The Great Demon Sherlock Holmes

Chapter 55: Intertwined

To counter the opening of the Demon Gate, the first King Felty, like a tyrant, ruthlessly shut down the burgeoning research into a new energy source—electricity; instead, he channeled all economic resources and talent into steam power.

This move effectively nipped a revolutionary research project in the bud. Even centuries later, many scholars still vehemently criticize this madness.

However, the Crusader soldiers stationed along the Redek Strait knew very well that without this drastic decision, there would be no booming development of steam technology, no steam-powered war machines, no high-powered combat armor, and no subsequent weapons of war.

The demons would not give humanity the time to slowly develop new energy sources.

Therefore, 70% of the Empire's history books contain the statement—"Without steam, there is no humanity."

And it was precisely because of the rapid development of steam technology that most of the land surrounding cities was requisitioned to build massive steam engines that powered the entire city. This overly rapid pace led to the separation of humanity from the natural world, and industrial production and acid rain further marginalized animals in the production process.

In this way, the sense of conquest inherent in human nature—the feeling of standing at the top of the food chain and looking down upon other species—gradually found no outlet.

And so…pets appeared! In a very short time, they swept through the entire upper class, then entered the lives of almost everyone with an unstoppable momentum.

A strange phenomenon even emerged: the lower the social class, the more they liked keeping pets.

The specific reason is probably a love and yearning for life that the wealthy lack.

Therefore, the pet market in London's Lower Town is much more vibrant than in the Upper Town.

At the corner of Baker Street, there are several pet supply shops, and even at the junction of another block, there's a pet hospital, and it's not cheap.

At 6:30 in the morning, Sherlock arrived in this area, braving the light drizzle.

Pet shops generally open early, because if the little guys staying there aren't cleaned up in the morning, the whole place will reek of urine.

"Jingle-jingle..." The wind chimes behind the door rang out melodiously, but this sound had absolutely no effect on waking the shop owner, who had been forced out of bed that morning.

He saw Sherlock walk in and could only manage a forced smile.

"Sir, what do you need?"

"A warm cat bed, not too big, but enclosed, preferably with curtains, to help a little guy less than two months old get through the winter."

Sherlock gestured to indicate the size of his ideal cat bed as he spoke.

He probably had some strange quirks—a penchant for stuffing things into enclosed spaces, as evidenced by the criminals stuffed into suitcases.

Now, he wanted to find a more enclosed cat bed for the kitten, one that was fluffy inside so it would be warm to curl up, and also sheltered from the draft.

Soon, the shop owner found a few that looked decent. Sherlock chose one that was a deep yellowish-brown, similar to the kitten's fur, thinking it would help it adapt to having a home more quickly.

...The rain outside the shop showed no sign of stopping.

London's weather has an inexplicable stubbornness; regardless of wind, rain, snow, or hail, the fog will absolutely not dissipate until noon.

Fog, homeless people, chimneys, bells, and faith are indelible marks on this city.

And on this hazy morning street, amidst the patter of rain, a carriage slowly appeared... its frame extremely simple, without any decoration, not even a bright color, simply pushing aside the morning mist, stepping through the puddles on the road, and stopping at a carriage stop by the street.

Rightly and orderly, even without other vehicles or pedestrians on the road, it still adhered to the most negligible traffic rules.

Immediately afterward, a bespectacled man stepped out of the car. He was not tall, and his age was perhaps under thirty, or even in his forties, or perhaps fifty.

Everyone who saw him would likely experience a momentary disorientation regarding his age, because few could imagine that someone who looked relatively young could possess such calm eyes. Calm as if he had weathered countless years of hardship, unmoved even by a demon opening its b****y maw before him.

Fortunately, as he straightened up, the reflection in his glasses obscured his prematurely aged gaze, leaving it shrouded in a white mist.

And in this process, a black umbrella was opened over his head, preventing a single drop of rain from falling on him.

“Master, you have about fifteen minutes. If you're late, it might cause unnecessary panic among the reception staff.” The person holding the umbrella was a young woman, no more than twenty years old, tall and slender, considerably taller than the bespectacled man beside her. She wore the most traditional maid's attire, her appearance extremely clean, even somewhat aloof, so even with her eyes lowered, she gave off an unapproachable aura.

“I just happened to be passing by and wanted to take a look. I haven't seen any small animals in over ten years.”

“After all, you used to have an allergy to fur.” Facing her master, the young woman's icy expression finally softened into a smile.

“I've gotten better over the years. It's just that those people are overly cautious.” The man's expression was indifferent, but his tone was quite amiable.

The master and servant walked towards the first pet shop across the street.

“Ding-a-ling~” The wind chimes rang again.

Even the shop owner was somewhat surprised. On this rainy morning, customers were coming in one after another. Could this be a sign of a lucky day?

"It's all packed for you. Just use water to clean it. Have a nice day!" The shopkeeper smiled and handed the packaged cat bed to Sherlock, then, forcing a stylish smile, addressed the two customers who had just entered: "You two are here early. It must be cold outside. Do you need any help?"

As he spoke, Sherlock turned around, looking at the cat bed with satisfaction…like any lower-town resident about to furnish their pet's new home, a small sense of warmth and relief.

But just as he passed the door,

he slightly turned his head, glancing at the short man beside him… then casually raised his gaze to the young female servant folding her umbrella, like a passerby instinctively glancing at a pretty woman.

The girl's eyes were expressionless, as were Sherlock's. For a fleeting second, their eyes met.

The door opened and closed, seemingly signifying that they would never cross paths again.

"What's wrong?" The young man seemed to notice his maid's slight unease and asked.

"Nothing, just an ordinary person." The girl placed her umbrella on the ground, watching the water droplets dripping from its ribs, and replied respectfully and gently.

The pet shop owner's smile remained obsequious…

He hadn't heard the conversation between the two customers. He only noticed that their clothes weren't cheap, and their every move exuded an air of refinement uncommon among lower-town residents. Most importantly, the maid, while not stunningly beautiful, was becoming increasingly pretty…

This made him think that these two must at least be nobles, and he could make a good profit from them.

…However, to his disappointment, the maid simply stood quietly at the door, while the short man merely entered the shop, glanced at the kittens through the cages… without touching them, not even getting close.

After three to five minutes, the two left.

"Strange people…" This was the shop owner's final assessment of the two.

...The carriage began to move forward, and inside, the man and his young female servant sat facing each other.

Even though the window wasn't open, the man's glasses still gleamed with an inexplicable white light.

"Tell me about that person from earlier," he suddenly asked.

"That person?"

"The one I met in the shop," the man said. "Normally, even if you encounter the Pope or an archbishop, you wouldn't give them a second glance." The girl was silent for a moment. As a servant, she naturally dared not disobey her master, but regarding that lower-town resident who had passed by, she didn't know what to say, or even why she had glanced at him. At the time... it was just a subconscious reaction.

"Just an ordinary imperial citizen, with a very low contract level. I was probably just a little distracted at the time," the girl said humbly.

The man before him didn't seem to think much of it, or perhaps countless thoughts were flashing through his mind in an instant. In any case, he nodded. "You must be tired after traveling all this way to London. Get some rest once you're settled in."

As he spoke, he glanced at a corner of the carriage. The thought that he was only 26 years old, and that he would meet a woman next month; that they would spend their lives together, yet have never met, filled him with a profound sense of absurdity.

"We'll get off at Auckland Cathedral soon. There will be special personnel to meet us. All the security personnel are carefully selected, and their whereabouts are absolutely confidential. You can rest assured, my master."

"Outside of the [Cathedral District], let's not use overly formal titles."

"Then I'll just call you Mr. Artemory?" the girl asked tentatively. She couldn't very well address him directly as His Highness.

Upon hearing the name, a flicker of annoyance crossed the man's eyes, but it was well concealed by his glasses. He shook his head slightly. "The surname 'Etimore' is too conspicuous. It needs a slight change. Let's call her... Moriarty."

He scrambled the alphabetical order of the name...

"Yes, Mr. Moriarty," the girl replied with a radiant smile.

The carriage drove further and further away, disappearing into the lingering dawn. Rain fell from the sky, soaking the deserted street and washing away all traces...