The Great Demon Sherlock Holmes

Chapter 84: Leading the Way

How long does it take to break a leg bone?

One second…

So the middle-aged man only had time for a brief, sharp scream before the pain triggered his brain's self-preservation mechanism, causing him to faint.

At the same time, the three bodyguards at the door reacted instantly.

Two of them had already drawn their guns, while the one closest to the door leaped forward, baring his teeth and claws, lunging at Sherlock!

It must be said that hiring bodyguards with such quick reflexes in the Lower City is truly rare. In that sudden, one-second reaction, these men almost instantly recovered from their shock and made the most correct decision!

Oh, no, the most correct decision was to turn and run!

It seemed they had missed this precious opportunity…

Anyway, in that instant, Sherlock grabbed the broken leg bone and stabbed it at the bodyguard lunging at him in mid-air. The sharp bone spur, accompanied by immense force, pierced the man's face with a c***k, shattering his cheekbone, leaving half a nose and an ever-widening gash, piercing through the skull and protruding straight out from the back of his head!

This scene was utterly brutal. Even more unbearable was that the man didn't die immediately. Instead, he knelt miserably on the ground, clutching a piece of thigh bone, letting out inhuman screams, trying to pull it out of his face.

Sherlock ignored him, grabbing the man's hair and lifting him up to shield himself. His previous ruthless actions caused the two gunmen at the door to hesitate for half a second. Only then did the first shot finally ring out, but Sherlock simply and mysteriously sidestepped, completely concealing himself behind the man's body!

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bullets exploded, leaving gaping holes in the man's body. A violent spasm followed, and the man, his face pierced, finally managed a few kicks in mid-air, his utterly miserable release abruptly fading away.

However, the living room wasn't very large. Sherlock's figure had arrived in an instant after those gunshots, his speed so fast that the gunman at the door didn't even have time to think of retreating. A corpse riddled with bullet holes was thrown towards him, and behind the body, a utterly calm face finally emerged. A spurt of blood ran diagonally from his eyebrow down to his jaw, passing over a pupil that looked as if it had been soaked in blood.

Fear gripped the gunman in that instant. He forgot to scream, only feeling a heat in his chest. When he came to his senses, the gunman's hand had already shoved into his elbow, then seemed to grasp something. He couldn't describe the strange feeling, and the next second, Sherlock's other hand was also pressed against the gunman's face, his arms yanking in opposite directions! In that brief exchange, the man's body crumbled, leaving him limp and collapsed to the ground. The lingering fear in his final eyes remained.

Sherlock lowered his eyes, staring at the severed spine in his hand, then slowly turned to look at the last bodyguard.

The latter was already slumped on the ground, his body drenched in sweat mixed with blood spurting from what appeared to be a corpse… He held a g*n, but had no intention of firing it, finding the unarmed man before him terrifying, like a demon.

“Help…” Sherlock said softly.

“???” The gunman was clearly still in shock, staring at her with fear, not quite understanding the meaning of the word.

“I said, you can call for help, but you'd better call all your men over, otherwise I’ll have to go find them one by one.” Sherlock said, gesturing to a telephone hanging on the wall, then tossed the severed spine to the man, not even noticing the pistol he carried. He turned and walked towards the middle-aged man who had been unconscious from the pain from the beginning.

He stepped over two motionless corpses, crunching through the blood, and knelt beside the middle-aged man. He placed his fingers on the man's face.

Unlike those who have lost consciousness due to stress or brain injury, simply stopping their breathing can revive them within seconds.

With a convulsive struggle, the middle-aged man opened his eyes in terror. What he saw was blood everywhere, several corpses slumped limply on the ground, and the only surviving bodyguard struggling against the wall towards a telephone.

He didn't dare to think about what had happened, only staring with even greater terror at the somewhat unhappy man in the trench coat before him.

"You're awake, huh? Okay... let's continue with the question from before. Do you know where those who didn't pay back their money on time are being held?" The middle-aged man's muscles were spasming from the excruciating pain. He wanted to say "I know," but after opening his mouth several times, fear prevented him from making a sound. Terrified, he nodded repeatedly, trying to show that he knew, that he was still useful.

Sherlock was satisfied with the man's reaction:

"Although I'd like to hear it from you, the layout of this building is too simple. It's obvious it's in the basement, right?" The middle-aged man nodded frantically, managing to utter a few syllables: "Yes...yes..."

"Alright, lead the way."

"???"

"Oh, sorry, it seems you have some difficulty moving around." Sherlock said apologetically, then grabbed the man's hair and dragged him out the door, leaving a gruesome trail of blood as he was pulled along the ground by the man's one remaining leg.

The middle-aged man could only struggle, howling pitifully, gripping Sherlock's wrist with all his might to prevent his scalp from being ripped off.

"Don't forget to remind me when you need to turn. I don't like taking detours," Sherlock said leisurely.

"Up ahead...turn...left...Aaaaaaaaah!!!" Amidst his screams, the man could only force his voice to be clear.

"Oh, and I also want to tell you how upset I was when I got home today and saw all the awful things you guys did... So, can you please be quiet?"

"Ugh—" The person being dragged, clinging to their last shred of will to live, tightly shut their mouth, daring not to utter another sound.

...Meanwhile, directly below this building, in a spacious, soundproofed basement...

Several human traffickers were methodically stuffing unconscious people into wooden crates...