Chapter 45

45. "H-help..."

I had always seen Sherlock sitting quietly, and although I had the impression that he was physically strong, I still thought he was someone who rarely exerted himself. As it turned out, he was incredibly strong. His arm wouldn't budge, and he nearly suffocated me with his hand over my mouth.

Only when I looked as though I was about to pass out did Sherlock let go. "Can't you hold your breath?"

It was true that when someone covered your mouth and made it difficult to breathe, taking a deep breath beforehand and holding it could increase your body's oxygen reserves.

But why would I need to use that knowledge here?

It wasn't as though he was going to smother me to death.

Most importantly, I hadn't even been speaking loudly.

How was I supposed to know Sherlock would physically mute me?

I was just about to speak when I saw Sherlock raise his hand and wipe it on my clothes. My words caught in my throat, and I could only stare at what he was doing. "..."

After lowering his hand, Sherlock asked calmly, "When did you figure it out?"

It didn't have much to do with when I had figured it out.

I didn't know whether it was a bad habit from my school days or something else, but when I came across a question I didn't understand, I wouldn't immediately ask someone. I would keep it to myself and think it through on my own. Only when I really couldn't figure it out, or when I had an opportunity to ask, would I consider speaking up.

Come to think of it, I might have developed that habit because I was afraid people would call me stupid, afraid they would say, "You have to ask about something that simple?"

All right, back to the beginning.

Actually, when Sherlock took me up to the deck that morning to observe "the scene where the body was found in the distance," I had a question.

Why hadn't he taken me straight to the original scene? Why keep me so far away?

That wasn't how a detective should logically behave.

I wasn't all that curious, though, so I hadn't paid much attention and had simply listened as though it were a story.

Afterward, Sherlock arranged for me to return to my cabin and rest up so I could queue to see the fortune-teller.

As far as I knew, Sherlock was a rational man of science and could not possibly be interested in a fortune-teller. He must have had a reason for making such a sudden arrangement. Sure enough, Sherlock soon showed me through his actions that he had only wanted to use the fortune-teller as a pretext to introduce me to Maren Flynn and thereby establish the body's identity and some of the truth behind it.

Judging by Maren Flynn's behavior, she was inextricably linked to the wealthy Talbot's death. Perhaps because she feared the inheritance wouldn't fall into her hands, or because of some other conflict of interests, Maren Flynn couldn't yet let "the wealthy Talbot's death" become public knowledge. So she found an actor or an accomplice to help her transfer the assets. What she hadn't expected was that Professor Moriarty, the Lord of Crime, and his associates had seen her every move.

The Lords of Crime had seized an opportunity to reveal the truth.

But Sherlock had interrupted the process.

That was how today's events had come about.

That was my guess.

Sherlock's reaction had indirectly confirmed that my judgment was correct.

I just thought that hiding the body and then trying to prove Maren Flynn guilty was a roundabout approach that took time and effort.

If Sherlock had done what Professor Moriarty did and put the body directly before the public, Maren Flynn, with her fake husband, might have become the prime suspect. Sherlock could then have questioned her about many details face-to-face and determined her guilt.

Was it because Sherlock didn't want to alert her? Was he worried that if the body were exposed, Maren Flynn would immediately come up with all sorts of evidence and excuses, making the investigation more difficult?

Criminal investigations weren't like mathematics, after all; they didn't have fixed methods of finding an answer. Even in the same case, relying on physical evidence or personal conviction alone could lead to many different solutions. There was no telling which would be the most effective, and it was hard to say whether an optimal solution even existed. So I could understand any explanation Sherlock gave for his actions.

Sherlock didn't seem inclined to pursue the question of when I had figured it out. Instead, he said, "Lanny, I did it because 'they' are here."

Not "he," but "they."

I couldn't react for a moment. I didn't understand what Sherlock meant.

"In several of the cases I've investigated, the events were the result of deliberate manipulation. From the explosion at the Workhouse to the university professor's clumsy alibi—"

Sherlock spoke calmly.

Those incidents that had seemed to mean so little to him had actually been on his mind for a long time.

When I realized that, I was both surprised and impressed. As expected of Holmes!

Sherlock continued, "Then, last month, the mastermind behind the serial suicides appeared and revealed the existence of the 'Lord of Crime' before he died. That confirmed it for me: there's a consultant behind these unusual cases, and the consultant isn't one person but a group of at least four."

I had seen in the comic that there were indeed five of them, so Sherlock's words immediately silenced me. I was afraid I might say the wrong thing and make him suspicious of me.

After a moment of silence, Sherlock's voice suddenly broke in. "Why aren't you saying anything? Do you know something?"

"!!!"

As soon as he said that, I jolted.

I joined the conversation in an even tone. "I was just thinking about something. The murderer wouldn't deliberately scare himself, stir up trouble, and do unnecessary work, so you suspect the Lord of Crime is pulling the strings this time too. But I was also wondering how you know 'they' are on the ship, rather than 'he.'"

"Besides the fact that the murderer wouldn't frighten himself, you'd know if you saw the body that the original crime scene wasn't on this ship. Lanny, you're very accustomed to inferring facts from what other people think. If you guess their thoughts wrong, you'll sometimes arrive at the opposite result. You'd better change that habit."

Holmes didn't like relying on personal conviction to establish facts. Most of the time, he deduced them from physical evidence.

I knew his habits and understood what he meant.

But that method had been so useful to me over the years that it wouldn't be easy to change in a short time.

"Why 'they'?" I brought the conversation back to the question.

"There were fibers from the thin cord used for maintenance on the body, and fur from a cashmere carpet of the sort found only in luxury cabins at the scene on the deck. Those two things come from people of different social backgrounds. Of course, it's also possible that this person was staying in a luxury cabin and went in and out of the ship's workrooms disguised as a crew member without changing

their shoes."

"So I also carefully observed the state of the security cameras when the body was placed on the deck."

I couldn't help exclaiming, "There are security cameras?"

"Obviously, someone tampered with them. That's why no one saw how the body was placed on the deck. Besides, I took advantage of that to move the body without being noticed."

"But how did you get access to the security department's cameras?"

I pictured Sherlock disguising himself as a security guard, concealing his identity and infiltrating the department without a hitch. But if the disguise were exposed, it would make Sherlock more suspicious in this matter.

While I was still thinking about it, Sherlock said, "Doesn't this ship belong to your classmate's family? I just had to tell them that if they didn't want a fatality on the Noah's maiden voyage, they should follow my lead."

That had probably put the entire Attwood family in his hands.

Now I could see why he had been able to hide the body so easily.

The owners of the entire ship were covering for him.

They didn't want an incident on the ship either.

The body was probably under the owners' watch now, somewhere very safe where it wouldn't be disturbed.

"So, are you planning to hide the body until the first port of call, then hand it over to the police? You can already narrow down the suspects."

"No. I'm going to force the Lord of Crime to show himself."

A calm, unhurried smile spread across Sherlock's face, conveying his firm resolve.

He continued, "When they learn their plan has been interrupted, they'll certainly come looking for the body. Or they'll find another way to prove Maren Flynn guilty. They won't let her get away with it."

He looked at me resolutely. "Watch, Lanny. When hot water starts to boil, its surface won't remain still. Even the tiniest bubble, insignificant as it may seem, is enough to be a clue. They—that Lord of Crime group—won't stop because of this. Once they make their move, we'll find that 'signal' in every step they take and seize upon their fatal weakness."

Sherlock spoke fluently and forcefully, with all the compelling charm of someone making a decisive choice.

The sharp thought flashing in his eyes also seemed to lay out the future course of the entire case,

But my attention wandered for a second. "Who's 'we'?"

"Me, of course, and you, who've heard the whole plan."

"..."

I wanted very much to say that my English was poor and I couldn't understand what Sherlock was saying.

I sighed and asked, "What if they find out about your plan beforehand and don't intend to show themselves?"

The voyage only lasted a few days, and this was already the second day.

Sherlock gave me a meaningful smile. "I have another way."

Sherlock always had a way to deal with difficulties. Although I sometimes found his plans hard to understand, I believed he could always find a way to solve the problem.

"..."

At that moment, I suddenly felt anxious for Professor Moriarty.

It wasn't that I was worried Professor Moriarty would be thrown straight into prison once his identity was discovered. Whether in the original novel,

or in Sherlock, Sherlock had no way to bring Professor Moriarty to justice through the law.

I was just wondering: if Sherlock discovered Professor Moriarty's identity and the professor immediately gave up his university post to devote himself entirely to criminal consulting, would I ever get to see Asteroid Mechanics?

When I heard Professor Moriarty talk about it that time, it had been like seeing a teaser for a fascinating article and waiting patiently for the author to start writing it. Now I felt as though it would never be started at all.

Just as I was reflecting on life's unpredictability, I suddenly received a call from Watson.

Skipping the greetings, Watson told me that Moriarty was writing the formulas for Asteroid Mechanics, but he had a low fever and wasn't well enough to continue the calculations. He didn't want to simply lie in bed recovering, though, and hoped I could come over and help with the calculations.

The moment I heard that, I felt as though my whole sky had brightened.

Professor Moriarty really was a grinding emperor.

Admiration for him welled up in me.

I had never imagined I would get to see a draft of the legendary Asteroid Mechanics.

And he really had been working on it all along, and even wanted to invite me to help.

Of course, I understood perfectly well that these calculations would naturally be based on Professor Moriarty's work. I would merely be following his line of thought.

In terms of writing a book, I would be doing proofreading at most.

But the excitement I felt was no different from that of a novice painter helping the greatest historian in human history, Leonardo da Vinci, carry his paints, or a music lover tuning an instrument for the legendary musical sage Beethoven. Professor Moriarty's mathematical talent was plain for all to see, and accepting his invitation now felt like standing on the shoulders of a giant to view the whole world.

I even had an absurd thought: if I could stop Professor Moriarty from continuing to run his criminal network, might I get to see Asteroid Mechanics published sooner?

It was only a passing thought.

How could an ant shake a tree?

In any case, I happily accepted the invitation.

How could I pass up an opportunity like this?

I agreed, but I hadn't expected Sherlock to put aside the matter of Maren Flynn and want to accompany me to Professor Moriarty's cabin. Whenever I saw the two of them together, I felt as though they were about to fight. I had intended to refuse, but then I remembered the subtly harmonious atmosphere between them in the preview comic.

That made me wonder again: could this be the opportunity?

There were many people in Professor Moriarty's cabin. Mrs. Hudson and Mr. Watson seemed to be waiting for me and were enjoying tea and refreshments at Albert's invitation. The warm, harmonious atmosphere delighted me. I could already picture Moriarty and his associates won over by the kind, loyal, friendly Mrs. Hudson and Mr. Watson, protecting them and shielding them from harm in the future.

Albert glanced at Sherlock behind me before asking, "Would you like to see William?"

"Yes."

Only then did it hit me.

Professor Moriarty had invited me again and again because he absolutely needed my help with the calculations. Yet I had thought it was something bad and kept refusing, nearly missing this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

As soon as I entered his bedroom, I was moved by the formulas on the three large white

boards standing there—Professor Moriarty was deriving Newton's law of universal gravitation from John Kepler's three laws.

As everyone knew, Newton's law of universal gravitation, from the late seventeenth century, described the gravitational force between all objects, while Kepler's three laws, from the early seventeenth century, provided a foundation and evidence for planetary motion, helping people understand how planets moved within the solar system.

Deriving the law of universal gravitation from Kepler's three laws made it possible to better describe the interaction between celestial motion and gravity. It was a collaboration between scientific fields that closely connected astronomy and mechanics.

I was halfway through reading when I saw that Professor Moriarty had annotated the side with the mathematical principles of ordering and zero structure.

Was Professor Moriarty going to apply a "system of differential polynomials" to the derivation of the law of universal gravitation from Kepler's laws?

All sorts of mathematical concepts immediately flooded my mind.

Just then, Professor Moriarty's voice sounded beside me.

We weren't very far apart. I was reading the whiteboard closest to him.

Before Professor Moriarty spoke, I heard a weak laugh.

He joked, "Lanny, aren't you going to touch my face like you did last time?"

He was this ill, yet he was still in the mood to tease me.

It felt as comfortable as being with an old friend.

I suddenly realized that I seemed to have been a little too distant with Professor Moriarty. I didn't always need to draw such a clear line in our relationship.

To outsiders, wasn't he simply my professor?

But just as I was about to speak, Sherlock's voice came from the doorway, low and deep. "So the two of you are that close?"

Sherlock's sudden voice made my heart skip a beat.

Before I could speak, I noticed in the mirror by Professor Moriarty's bed that Sherlock, Watson, Mrs. Hudson, and Albert had been standing in the doorway for quite some time, though I didn't know when they had arrived. And the atmosphere had quietly changed without my noticing.

I had originally thought there was nothing particularly special about what Professor Moriarty had mentioned.

Wasn't it the sort of thing that could simply go in one ear and out the other?

But never mind the scrutiny in Sherlock's eyes or the unmistakable surprise in Watson's and Mrs. Hudson's gazes—even Albert's gaze was sharp as a blade, as though it would turn my back into a hornet's nest.

I suddenly realized, belatedly, that I seemed to have done something utterly outrageous, excessive, and inconceivable to Professor Moriarty in the past—why had I wanted to pinch his face back then?

For a moment, I felt more sweat running down my back than when, as a young fool, I had gone up on stage to address thousands of important figures and major media outlets.

Scheming as Albert was, he chose that moment to call me out by name, half serious and half joking, with a hint of a smile. "Mr. Lanny, did William's face feel nice?"

H-help...!