The Great Demon Sherlock Holmes

Chapter 59: All Is Well

No one would have imagined that it would snow in London in November.

However, just a few days ago, on that morning, fine snowflakes began to fall without warning. Perhaps these tiny white particles reflected the light around the clouds, making the fog over London clearer.

This was one of the clearest days of the year… The snow reached its peak at nightfall, adorning the streetlights and the sparse trees with a silvery sheen. The Thames River, illuminated by the lights of the giant clock tower, looked like a dream. Even more miraculously, despite the snowfall, the temperature wasn't that cold. The silvery-white particles melted into damp patches the moment they touched the street, making the air on the long street exceptionally fresh.

Sherlock came down the stairs carrying a two-pound bottle of wine. The little calico cat emerged from its brand-new cat bed, meowing sweetly at Sherlock in a soft, yet fierce, voice, before drowsily scurrying back into its sweet dreams.

"Knock, knock, knock..." The detective knocked on the landlord's door.

This bottle of wine was a gift... because of the landlord's last dinner, as a tenant, you have to reciprocate. This exchange of gifts proves that you've gained the landlord's approval and can stay here for a very long time.

Although it seems a bit tedious, it's an essential part of social etiquette.

Because owning a property in London is harder than witnessing the mayor commit a******y again, most people need to rent, often for decades, living and dying in this rented shelter.

In this situation, the relationship between landlord and tenant becomes exceptionally delicate, even resembling a kind of kinship beyond blood ties.

"I've noticed you're always in your room. You seem like a very busy person." Mrs. Hudson brought some peas to the table, a common vegetable at this time of year.

There was no meat at this meal… a commoner from the lower city couldn't possibly have meat every meal, but the landlady's cooking was quite good. Sherlock even considered asking for a rent increase in exchange for the right to come downstairs for meals each day.

“My job requires thinking, so sometimes I lock myself in my room,” he said with a smile.

Of course, what Sherlock mainly did in his room these past few days was sleep…

or rather, expand his territory in Hell.

Those tentacles clearly possessed an extremely terrifying reproductive ability. Under the protection of the domain, they could easily burrow into the bodies of those demons who dared not move, turning them into living nests to nourish themselves, and then growing more tentacles, making the land of Hell their own.

And this method of multiple division also made the expansion of the domain faster and faster. At this moment, the entire Baker Street in front of Sherlock had become his territory, and he was even about to occupy the two adjacent blocks.

In other words, if he wanted cat food right now, he could simply use his mind to open a spatial rift at the street corner over 500 meters away, have a corpse dog secretly grab a bag of cat food, retreat back inside, run to his side, open another spatial rift, and hand him the cat food.

He could get a whole twenty-three pence for free without a sound.

Of course, Sherlock is a law-abiding citizen; he would never do such a thing!!

He was just somewhat complaining about why the cat food couldn't travel through the spatial rift…

…Besides, during the expansion, our detective also encountered some trouble, namely… his tentacles seemed only capable of burrowing through low-level, small demons, and the few corpse dogs he parasitized weren't particularly strong enough. This resulted in him being somewhat helpless when encountering a few slightly larger reptilian demons during his invasion of the Pulmos district.

Those demons, whether insensitive to fear or simply of slightly higher level, capable of withstanding some of the domain's power, weren't motionless within the domain; they retaliated.

Whenever the tentacles approached, they rolled and bit wildly; when the carrion hounds pounced, they sprouted sharp spikes to fight back.

This drastically slowed the expansion rate…

Sherlock was quite troubled by this.

Furthermore, he discovered that his tentacles had a limit to the number of demons they could parasitize; they could only parasitize three very weak demons. Any more, and the smaller tentacles would rebel.

Was it because his contracting ability was still in its initial stage?

He couldn't know the answer yet; he could only slowly increase the compatibility between himself and the tentacles to verify it.

The peas tasted as rich as ever, delicious with the pasta.

Oh, Italy is a place name, but he didn't know where it was. After the empire unified, most countries changed their names.

"Haven't those debt collectors come looking for you lately?" Sherlock poured the landlady another glass of wine and asked. “No, they’ve quieted down a lot lately. I have a feeling some big day is coming.” Mrs. Hudson was a cautious yet easygoing person. In the few days they’d spent together, she had become quite open with Sherlock about herself.

After all, as long-term neighbors, some things can’t be kept secret…

“Actually, I’ve been wanting to ask, why do you need to borrow money at high interest rates? You don’t seem like the kind of person who needs a lot of money to get by,” Sherlock asked.

Rather than actively trying to deduce and guess, sometimes, getting the other person to open up about things through conversation allows them to experience life more fully.

Mrs. Hudson took a sip of her drink, her eyes, already slightly tipsy, fixed on the cherry-red liquid. She hesitated for a moment:

"Actually, I'm not a wife. I'm not married." She spoke slowly, her voice tinged with obvious apology. "I only lied to you to avoid some trouble. I hope you understand. Besides, I really need the money."

Her face began to flush, and in the gaslight, she seemed to possess the naivety of a young girl…

"Don't think I've always lived alone. I have family.

My father is in the hospital… He's a steam pipe worker. A year ago, he lost consciousness in an accident and hasn't woken up yet.

That's when I borrowed money from loan sharks to pay for his medical bills…

Oh, and I have a younger brother. Five years ago, he was drafted and sent to the front lines to transport supplies… He shouldn't be in too much danger. But he hasn't written home for two years.

I've been paying the phone bill, 15 shillings a month… I'm just an ordinary person; I don't need a phone for anything. I just hope that one day, when he calls home, I can answer it.

And tell him everything is alright…"