Just when all of Jujutsu Society thought Sherlock would carry on the miracle he had created, your Uncle Sherlock, to absolutely no one's surprise, went straight back to slacking off.
Yes, you read that right. Sherlock returned to his old layabout ways, completing a few missions every day without fail and spending the rest of his time either grinding away at material for his final exams or fucking lounging around and shirking work.
To be fair, Sherlock's intermittent bursts of effort left all of Jujutsu Society with extraordinarily complicated feelings about this Humanoid Sorcerer, especially the Old Orange-Peels among the Higher-Ups. Their feelings toward him could hardly have been more complicated.
On the one hand, as Satoru Gojo's student, Sherlock naturally belonged to the Gojo Faction and could even be considered part of its innermost Direct Line. They really did not dare give him another chance to farm prestige like crazy as he had before.
On the other hand, these people could not suppress their own little schemes. After all, Sherlock was simply too useful.
As long as his opponent was not Special Grade, Sherlock took two minutes at most to finish them off. At that speed, if he wanted to, he could single-handedly solve the manpower shortage across all of Jujutsu Society.
Of course, the central problem was that your Uncle Sherlock did not want to!
In Sherlock's words, why risk your life when you had enough money? Dying before you finished spending it would be the greatest tragedy in life.
So no matter what arrangements those Old Orange-Peels among the Higher-Ups made, ever since that one burst of effort, your Uncle Sherlock had stubbornly insisted on doing only ten missions a day. Not one more.
Even his excuse was perfectly reasonable. He, Sherlock, was still a student and