102 – Corpse Thief (1)
“Inspector Lestrade is quite a troublesome person. “He complained to me, and to be honest, it was a bit difficult, Sherlock.”
“There is no need to express yourself vaguely, Mycroft. I know very well that just trying to have a conversation with someone is a stupid person and gives me a headache. “Me too, but my brother must be so embarrassed.”
“…… “Sherlock.”
Mycroft, who was having a hard time dealing with Inspector Lestrade, who had raided the suicide club but was unable to achieve any results, pointed out his younger brother’s tone, but did not deny the meaning behind it.
He didn’t show it because of his relationships with people and his social position, but Mycroft also felt like a parent dealing with a young child when dealing with people who lived with a little less intelligence.
Still, as his older brother and guardian, he couldn’t help but point out his younger brother’s sophistication, and Holmes responded with a wave of his hand.
“Okay, but it’s one of the few words you can use, so I’ll be careful with my mouth. So what do I need to know?”
“… The owner of the mansion located on the outskirts of London that burned down is Anthony Tidkin. He is 50 years old and is known externally as a successful businessman leading a mid-sized company, but he is one of those who is being watched due to his history of running several gangs in North London.”
“I see. So, you mean he was once a giant? Oh, by the way, I remember seeing it in my archives, and he was a suspect in the Lydia Hutchison murder case 10 years ago. Of course, because there was no evidence, he was released without charge. “He was quite a big man, although he is now reduced to M’s subordinate.”
Although he did not mention it directly, he was clearly likely to be related to many more incidents.
Of course, since this was an inference based on the case data collection that Sherlock Holmes personally collected, the limitations were clear.
In order to directly investigate events from decades ago, most of the evidence has disappeared, and we can only infer indirectly through distorted newspaper articles and magazine columns.
However, considering that it took a while for Holmes himself to remember the name, it was no exaggeration to say that he was a suspect in a crime that was now out of date.
Even if he had an organization of a certain size, wouldn’t he have suffered an ugly defeat from his teacher?
Then why did Mr. Moriarty save the man? Is it because he is a puppet or some kind of power he has?
He wanted to think about that, but Mycroft’s words forced him to stop for a moment.
“…… However, Sherlock, I am not yet a complete believer in your ‘Napoleon of Crime’ hypothesis. “If there really is an entity that unites London’s criminal groups, it’s a situation that even the government can’t do anything about.”
Holmes could not help but bite his lip for a moment at his brother’s cold words. The hypotheses he always presented to his brother Mycroft could be broadly divided into two.
The former was the ‘Napoleon of crime’ hypothesis mentioned by Mycroft’s brother. Only Holmes himself could figure it out clearly and intuitively. Because it was a truth that could only be discovered through certain assumptions.
Someone was uniting the criminals of London and the disparately divided organizations into one and ruling them.
There was no need to emphasize the latter. That Napoleon’s name was James Moriarty.
Of course, my brother didn’t even bother to mention the latter. Even if such a being existed, it couldn’t be called Professor Moriarty. It was a cool-headed judgment, so even she and Holmes couldn’t complain.
However, it was true that her brother’s reaction stimulated her competitive spirit.
“…… You have to prove it one by one. Anyway, okay, now I have to go to the University of London. “Anyway, is that druggie really trustworthy?”
“Sherlock.”
“Okay, watch your mouth, Mycroft. “Anyway, I’m glad that old man is on drugs, I thought I was going to hear some bullsh*t again.”
At the same time, Holmes quietly turned his head from looking only at Mycroft to a corner of the drawing room. Mycroft couldn’t help but sigh a little, knowing the meaning of his brother’s gaze.
There, Watson made eye contact with Holmes, smiled awkwardly, and secretly distanced herself from an old man who was checking whether she was breathing properly with her finger.
Although Watson was often criticized by Holmes as a goldfish, a boorish pig, or a walking pornography, she was a decent medical student and had already accumulated enough knowledge to graduate immediately from university.
Of course, the fact that Watson had the brains to do so was more of a mystery to Holmes than anything else, but this could not be denied.
To Watson, the old man who fell asleep while smoking her opium looked bad enough to worry about whether she was alive. She was wearing a suit, but her shirt was wrinkled here and there, indicating that she was a single mom, and her sleeves were clearly marked with dirt from her meals, probably because she hadn’t washed them properly.
He had a stocky body of medium height, and even while he was sleeping, he was hugging his old rifle like a lover, giving him a glimpse of a hunter’s side. However, he smelled strong of opium, and he was sleeping while drooling while intoxicated with opium. Was close to a clown.
The old man half asleep on the sofa is Alan Quartermaine.
He was a hunter sent directly by Her Majesty the Queen to guard Mycroft Holmes.
Of course, the sight of such a hunter smoking opium in a corner of the drawing room without even properly tidying up his dirty white beard was a good sight to raise doubts about whether anything was going right in England.
Holmes frowned, unconsciously recalling his first meeting with that trustless old man.
The era was a new era of exploration, and naturally, in the name of colonization and exploration, Britain sent numerous explorers to various remote areas, including Africa.
Allen Quartermaine was the most famous of these, and was also a renowned hunter.
Although Holmes was naturally cynical toward politicians, he had no choice but to admit that even if only 10% of Quatermain’s saga was true, he was an excellent hunter.
Even Watson, who heard Quartermaine’s dispatch from Mycroft, secretly looked forward to it with his eyes sparkling.
Holmes secretly hoped that at least a useful worker had been brought in for this job.
And when he came face to face with the famous hunter Sir Alan Quartermaine, he realized that he still had a long way to go. Because it was clearly foolish to judge and expect people based solely on reputation.
The first impression wasn’t that bad. It was better to live alone and not be able to dress properly than to face a well-dressed gentleman.
More than anything, the medium height and stocky body itself showed that he was a hunter.
It also smelled of opium. If he was a drug addict, he was at least a trustworthy person.
Of course, it was Holmes’s own prejudice as he was a fellow drug addict.
But then, upon seeing Holmes and Watson, Sir Alan Quartermaine, blushing like a father who had seen his daughter walking naked down the street, screamed at Mycroft Holmes.
“Microft! Ruler… Didn’t you say you were friends with her sister? But why is everyone like this? “Since when did London turn into a den of satanic devils?”
“Is there something wrong, Lord Quartermaine?”
Even Microsoft was taken aback for a moment. But the old hunter shouted, gesturing at Holmes and Watson with his trembling hand, like a missionary who has discovered a group of pagans burning crosses and churches.
“I… What is this, young ladies! What a disgraceful young lady! Anyway, people these days don’t know anything about morality and don’t even pray to the Lord properly, so it’s like this! Damn it, damn it! This… Hey, Miss Holmes! That’s Miss Holmes, right? If it were my daughter, she would have just broken her legs, but what are those clothes for a grown woman! Oh my, a grown woman showing off her legs like that! Then you can’t use it, huh?”
“…… “He was very rude from the first moment.”
Holmes responded coldly to the old man’s reaction.
Of course, from the moral point of view of the Victorian era, where piano legs were covered with cloth simply because they were considered obscene, Sir Allan Quartermaine’s reaction, although a bit excessive, was not wrong.
Watson always secretly suspected that Holmes was a lecherous pervert, and Mycroft also always secretly sighed at his brother’s eccentricities.
Holmes’ attitude of greeting an old man while wearing trousers in public was unusual. Above all, the pants were not just men’s clothing, but the kind that were tight enough to expose the leg line.
Of course, Alan Quartermaine’s reaction was also unusual.
Holmes was already having a headache thinking about working with that old man. It felt like I was injecting cocaine.
