Chapter 82: A Business Deal
1153 Words
Sherlock walked over, his fingers lightly tracing the keyhole.
The scratches were extremely rough, almost as if the lock had been forcibly broken, completely disregarding whether anyone was inside…
A home invasion robbery?
Unlikely. No one would commit a robbery in broad daylight, making such a commotion.
He pushed the door open, landing on the carpet inside. The tangled fur fibers were trampled like broken weeds.
Three people, four people, five people…
One of them was nearly two meters tall and weighed over 140 kilograms.
Looking further into the house, Sherlock's gaze swept over everything he could see.
At the same time, virtual lines began to appear before his eyes, rapidly sketching nonexistent phantoms, as if past events were replaying before his eyes.
After one of them entered the house, he carelessly kicked over the chair closest to the door with considerable force. The chair slammed against the wall, bounced back half a meter, shattered flowerpots, and knocked everything out of the cupboard. The cupboard doors were wide open, and the two men began ransacking the place, presumably searching for valuables. Meanwhile, the tall man casually sat down on the sofa, leaning back with his hands comfortably behind his head. Inexplicably, a few stray hairs were visible around his head.
Not head hair, but shorter, finer body hair, likely growing on his forearm or chest.
Considering the cold weather, no one would be wearing such light clothing… so…
In about two seconds, Sherlock's mind conjured up the most fitting image.
Just last month, he had seen such a person who, even in the coldest weather, liked to unbutton his shirt to expose his chest, because there was a gruesome scar there. For someone who roams the downtown area, making a living with fists and violence, this was a display of power.
Yes, it was the debt collection agency.
That night, they came to see Mrs. Hudson once, and I happened to run into them. But that time they were noticeably more polite; they didn't even knock repeatedly, just waited 'amiably' at the door.
This meant Mrs. Hudson wouldn't frequently evade debts, so the debtors would naturally maintain a certain level of respect. In their own words, the company was operating legally; they just wanted to get back the money that was rightfully owed, nothing more.
Using violence wouldn't get them any more money; instead, it would incur medical bills and damage the company's image.
Only a fool would do that…
So what's wrong with these guys today…?
Suddenly barging into a client's house, ransacking and smashing everything!
Moreover, there were obvious signs of struggle and dragging near the entrance, indicating that his landlady had returned and been forcibly taken away by these people in a rough manner… While it hadn't escalated to a full-blown fight, it was certainly not polite. In less than a month, this company's attitude towards debt had suddenly become so extreme; something must have happened in between.
Of course, Sherlock wasn't concerned about what had gotten into these guys; he was only concerned about his landlady, and also… he still hadn't found something.
The smell… that faint smell of blood he'd caught earlier.
He hadn't seen anything related to blood in the room, not even in the kitchen or bedroom.
That meant the blood wasn't coming from inside the house!
Sherlock's expression grew increasingly serious. He must have realized something, or perhaps he had already suspected something, but was still clinging to a sliver of hope, unwilling to believe it.
But finally, he walked out of the room with somewhat heavy steps and headed towards the stairs leading to the second floor… The wind from the long street blew through the porch, carrying the icy chill unique to snow. Sherlock didn't go upstairs, but instead went to the back of the stairs.
It was an openwork area, usually used to store unused furniture or items.
But Mrs. Hudson didn't put anything in that corner, and neither did Sherlock, because a kitten lived there, less than six months old. Its black, white, and yellow fur indicated it wasn't a purebred. Its parents might be lost, or they might be dead; in any case, this corner behind the stairs was its home.
A few days ago, Sherlock had bought it a cat bed; otherwise, it might not have survived the winter.
The cat bed was still there…
Although it was a little flat, as if someone had stepped on it.
Sherlock paused for a second, then bent down and lifted the curtain of the cat bed.
"Meow~" He imitated the kitten's meow.
However… he didn't receive that childish yet fierce response.
Only the stench of blood finally became clear.
In his sight lay a small, weak body, almost folded in the opposite direction, lying quietly in its cat bed… Sherlock knew its spine was broken, ribs protruding from its body, the seeping blood staining its fur red, and without the protection of its living body heat, it was already showing signs of solidifying in the cold…
Sherlock watched quietly for a while, then got up and went to his room.
He opened the door and went inside. Several tentacles tried to reach out to help their master remove his clothes and hat, but after taking just one step forward, they suddenly froze.
The tentacles in the surrounding shadows were all frozen, curled up, afraid to move, even seemingly… trembling.
Sherlock remained silent. He went to the coffee table next to the sofa and picked up a small card.
This was handed to him by someone from the debt collection agency a while ago. He'd just tossed it here casually; thankfully, he wasn't in the habit of tidying up.
[Crawford Capital Company]
There was a phone number on it…
…
“Hello, this is Crawford Capital Company. How can I help you?”
A very pleasant female voice came from the phone.
Sherlock sat in Mrs. Hudson's living room, his tone extremely calm. “I have a very large debt that I need to discuss with you.”
“Large?” The voice on the phone hesitated, because the word 'large' was rarely used to describe debt. “Is this debt repayment or a loan?”
“That's not important, beautiful lady. Please tell me your company's address. Oh, and please have your boss, the debtor, and the debt collection staff all present. Believe me, this may be the most expensive deal your company has ever made.”
Sherlock said calmly.
After receiving an affirmative answer, he hung up the phone and left the room.
The setting sun was gradually losing its color, and darkness was slowly encroaching on everything around him.
He turned and glanced at the small, slightly raised mound of earth beneath a tree at the edge of the long street.
Just that one glance.
Then, he pulled his trench coat tighter around himself and disappeared into the night…
- Writer
