The Great Demon Sherlock Holmes

Chapter 90: All Fools

His Highness, the Holy Son was proficient in almost all knowledge in this world, but he didn't understand love very well.

Sherlock, too, had only a vague understanding of love. He didn't even know whether his landlady's attitude towards him was a form of gratitude or blind infatuation after rescuing her.

Both exceptionally intelligent people seemed somewhat bewildered by this simple concept.

That's understandable. Love, no matter how capable someone is, is a fool if they haven't experienced it.

"Knock...knock...knock..." A knock sounded at the door.

Mrs. Hudson opened the door and saw Sherlock standing there. She immediately seemed pleased and was about to welcome him inside when she paused, startled. "What...are you hesitating about?"

"Hesitating?"

"Yes." Mrs. Hudson pointed to the messy footprints in the snow at the doorway. "Clearly, someone's been lingering here for a while. I know a thing or two about deduction, my dear detective."

Sherlock scratched his nose somewhat awkwardly, hesitated for a few seconds, then seemed to have finally made up his mind. "Actually, I came just to express my gratitude. Your cooking is superb, and I've never stayed in such a clean room before. Um, I mean...the rent I pay certainly isn't worth all this trouble, so..."

Sherlock's shoes were covered in snow, so he didn't go inside, remaining standing in the doorway.

However, before he could finish, he was interrupted.

“I can tell you’ve never been in love before… well, neither have I.” Mrs. Hudson laughed, covering her mouth slightly, seemingly trying to avoid embarrassing him. “Detective, I understand what you mean, but please don’t take away my goodwill towards you, okay?”

“But…”

“No buts!” Mrs. Hudson’s smile remained, but she adopted a very assertive attitude. “I don’t know what you’re worried about or hoping for, but I won’t waive your rent!

And my service to you, my goodwill towards you, tidying your room, making you breakfast, and what I might do in the future…” Everything you do is because I want to.

I won't ask for anything in return, nor will I interfere in your life. I won't cause you any trouble. If one day I don't want to do this anymore, I'll naturally stop. But until then, I just want to be good to you!

There's no particular reason; it just makes me happy, and you happen to deserve it.

So! Enjoy it! And don't get any presumptuous thoughts!

Do you understand?" Mrs. Hudson said, enunciating each word clearly. By the end, her smile vanished, replaced by a fierce expression.

Sherlock was momentarily stunned.

Just like when he first met her, this girl always seemed to be able to make him freeze for a few seconds.

Fortunately, he knew very well that if he said anything more now, he'd be in big trouble. Angry his landlady was far more terrifying than angering a second-tier clergyman!

"Then… thank you…" he quickly tentatively replied.

“That’s more like it.” Mrs. Hudson smiled again, then produced a breakfast box. “Today’s breakfast is oysters and pancakes. It’s my first time making them, but they should taste pretty good.” Sherlock nodded and took the box from her.

At that moment, the usually solitary Sherlock suddenly had the illusion of becoming that calico kitten, and worriedly thought:

‘If this continues, won’t I get used to being fed?’

“Oh, by the way, my birthday is coming up soon. I hope you won’t forget.”

“Of course not!” Sherlock was very glad that his memory was still good.

"Haha, don't be so nervous. I just want to warn you, don't prepare any gifts for my birthday. I don't want to waste money on unnecessary things… I'll choose the cake myself, prepare the ingredients, and of course, I'll cook it myself. All you have to do is have a nice dinner with me that day, understand?"

"Yes, ma'am, my landlady…"

…Sherlock boarded the carriage, and Mrs. Hudson watched her tenant disappear around the corner.

Then she went back inside, took off her apron, put on her thick winter clothes, and prepared to begin her day's work.

She worked two jobs… one as a sales clerk in a craft shop, working until two in the afternoon, then working as a waitress in a mid-range restaurant, working like that until about six in the evening.

She only had half an hour to travel, and she had to finish eating during that time.

It was hard work, but the pay was pretty good. That restaurant often saw wealthy men dining there with their girlfriends, and with a little skill in conversation, she could easily snag a hefty tip from them.

Sometimes, she fantasized about the day she could experience being waited on.

Sitting by the window, ordering some reasonably priced food with her crush, she'd dress up nicely, while her boyfriend, in a suit, would sit opposite her like a businessman… The waiter would surely look surprised, and within two days, word of their relationship would be out.

It was childish, but what girl hasn't been childish?

Oh, right, these past few days she'd suddenly realized that the guy sitting opposite her didn't necessarily have to wear a suit; that was a bit too pretentious. A long trench coat seemed like a good alternative…

Thinking this, she inexplicably chuckled, startling herself, and quickly and awkwardly patted her cheek.

…Baker Street in the early morning, the snow still clinging to the ground, the wind damp and cold. Suddenly, a group of nearly a hundred nuns in white habitation appeared on the long street, moving slowly in a grand procession.

Nun habitation is usually black with white trim, so pure white was a rare sight. Heads bowed, seemingly unfazed by the cold, they clutched sunflower pendants to their lips, as if kissing them or murmuring devout prayers. Their pristine white skirts billowed in the snow, creating a continuous, dazzling shimmer, like some kind of sacred banner fluttering in the wind.

In short, this dazzling procession moved at a steady pace through the snow and ice. No one knew who they were, where they came from, or where they were going.

No one dared to ask, instinctively keeping their distance. It seemed that the sheen of their skirts naturally exuded an aura of purity, sublimity, and solemnity; to approach would be to disrespect some great being.

No…

Not only were they unapproachable, but ordinary people weren't even worthy of remembering this scene. So, in the seconds after they passed, they were no longer noticed by anyone, as if they had never met.

Finally…

After walking for some time,

the pure white procession of a hundred people stopped in front of an apartment building on Baker Street.

With a soft, synchronized "whoosh…"

the people in the procession knelt down in unison in the snow, foreheads pressed against the backs of their hands, making a grand entrance, oblivious to everyone around them.

As if they were reverently welcoming something…