In the brief silence of those few seconds, too many possibilities that had never come to pass vanished into the quiet.
After displaying precisely the appropriate amount of terror upon first hearing that name, "Yeats" frowned and looked at the man on the bench with distaste and wariness.
In the end, he chose not to punch the man's dog head apart.
He merely replied coldly, "Sorry, I don't know what you're talking about."
"Hmm, naturally. To be honest, I'm not entirely sure either."
Sherlock held his pipe and laughed heartily. "After all, reasoning without conclusive evidence is merely a joke. It cannot even be called reasoning, only a slight conjecture I made for the sake of dramatic effect.
"Still..."
After taking a deep drag, he sighed regretfully. "If you aren't that gentleman, then this story is far too dull."
That fucking gentleman?
Who did he think he was?
Zoffy?
The corner of Huai Shi's eye twitched faintly. He truly could not figure out what the man before him wanted.
After all, he did not believe his portrayal of Yeats was flawless. If someone had a purpose, they would inevitably take action. If his opponent truly was Sherlock Holmes, then having his trail discovered was only natural.
But was the other man certain, or bluffing? Was he here to test him, or expose him?
What sort of intentions did he harbor in approaching him?
And if Huai Shi hesitated any longer, would he miss his chance?
Perhaps at this very moment, Golden Dawn, having received the signal, had already laid down a net from which there was no escape.
The facts proved that once a baby got wound up, it was hard to stop...
Should he just punch him apart after all?
And during the brief gap while Huai Shi pondered,