153 – Stand still (4)
On the day that permission was given from Microsoft Holmes, Watson went out early in the morning dressed neatly.
The dissection itself was not the first. As I had already told Holmes, she only had a medical license, but she already had the knowledge to practice as a doctor, and she was a witch who had participated in dissection practice on several occasions.
Among other things, she often stood on duty at the medical school’s morgue, where bodies for anatomy practice were stored, and even though her seniors used to freak out, she was able to easily eat a simple meal next to the dead bodies. It was also familiar.
Of course, the simple meal was limited to Watson’s own standards. Her often foul-mouthed seniors would make baseless accusations against her, calling her a pig. It was an unfair accusation for Watson.
It was completely common sense that eating 10 pieces of sandwich was a simple act of satisfying hunger.
But even Watson, who she was so familiar with, couldn’t help but feel nervous in her own way. Since she had agreed to meet with Holmes at the morgue, her steps felt a little heavier as she walked alone today.
Watson was familiar with her body, and although not as good as Holmes, he also read various literary works for culture, so she naturally included the bestsellers of the era.
From noble mtl dot com
Watson was accustomed to adventure novels that were often dark and full of blood and slaughter, as well as bizarre writing that provided cheap satisfaction for a penny.
However, unlike the poor depiction of her in the imaginations of her writers, what she had to face were the horrific corpses that arose in her reality.
She couldn’t help but picture in her mind the bodies she hadn’t even seen yet, without even realizing it. This was not difficult, as newspapers and magazines often provided lengthy descriptions or bizarre illustrations of torso corpses to attract more attention.
Above all, because Watson himself had considerable knowledge about the human body structure through various dissections, she would draw pictures in her imagination in even more detail even if Watson did not want to.
“There you are, Watson. Let’s go in. And… Don’t be too nervous. Do what you have to do. Oh, but don’t eat the sandwich.”
“I… “I’m not always like that!”
“Thank goodness.”
When we met with Holmes at the appointed place, her friend joked about her harsh words as usual. Only after reacting did Watson realize that it was her friend’s own consideration.
She joked as if telling me to act like usual, and when I responded, the tension and fear disappeared for a moment.
She was silent again until she went to the underground morgue.
At the door of the morgue, a middle-aged man who appeared to be a manager and Mycroft Holmes, whom they had already met several times, were waiting for the two women.
Because we already had a conversation with each other, things like territoriality did not occur. In fact, the manager seemed tired of everything and just nodded a few times in a businesslike manner and opened the door.
He didn’t join us, as if he didn’t feel like going in, so naturally the three of us, the Holmes siblings and Watson, were able to enter the morgue.
“Ugh!”
As soon as he entered, Watson let out a small scream without realizing it, even though he was probably more familiar with the corpses than anyone else in the room.
The smell of blood. The smell of blood and death, unfamiliar even to Watson, tickled the tip of his nose as if strangely threatening.
The huge morgue, which was originally supposed to store the bodies of victims of numerous crimes or unrelated people on the roadside, was emptier than expected.
Watson had no choice but to know the reason, even if he didn’t like it. There were only a few corpses occupying the space that should have been full, but they all had one thing in common: limbs and no heads.
These are all torsos that are causing a stir in London these days.
“30 Minutes. Anything more than that is difficult. “You know, right?”
While even his friend Holmes was silent after seeing the scene, the business-like voice of Mycroft Holmes was heard.
He checked his pocket watch toward his younger brother and his friend and opened his mouth as if to cheer them on, telling them to hurry up and do what they had to do.
As if the sound of the pocket watch lid closing was the starting point, Holmes stepped forward first, unable to hide his slightly nervous expression, and Watson followed belatedly.
It was terrible. No, it was terrible.
Even my friend, who would not blink even if he saw a dead person or a ghost, hesitated for a moment in front of such an unfamiliar and foreign sight.
Watson was scared, but it felt like he was dreaming. To that extent, the shapes in front of him that were supposed to be ‘humans’ were giving him such an unpleasant and terrible feeling.
Torso was originally an expression referring to old sculptures found with broken limbs and heads. No matter how much they imitate human shapes, they are still just sculptures made of stone, so people were often able to find beauty in such unfinished shapes.
However, the torsos in front of me were all made of blood and flesh, and were made of unfortunate people who were once alive and breathing, and who were sacrificed by someone.
The feeling of seeing a statue made of a human being was difficult to describe in any unpleasant expression.
Above all, Watson seemed to be able to detect some terrible malice in the mocking cuts.
Anger toward the person responsible for this terrible incident rose once again. However, Watson couldn’t help but feel guilty at the same time.
He knew in his head that it shouldn’t be like that. However, emotions can sometimes become infinitely terrible.
Even though he knew that the man was a terrible being, the feelings and desires he once had had not yet disappeared.
Does Holmes feel the same way?
However, both Watson and Holmes had to find the right information. I had to prevent further misfortune and judge the man.
Watson began to slowly examine his body as if conducting an autopsy. He paused for a moment at the first question that came to mind.
However, because Holmes nodded as if asking a question, Watson cautiously opened his mouth. He had to be careful. He was even worried that it might be foolish to ask what was obvious.
“Maybe… Investigators and the hospital deliberately… “Have you been embalmed?”
“No, Miss Watson. As far as I know, there hasn’t been any chemical treatment, other than a brief autopsy. They… “All just as they were found on the Thames.”
“But… “Why hasn’t there been corruption?”
“It’s magic.”
Holmes answered Watson’s question. However, as usual, he did not sound confident, so he had no choice but to unconsciously turn his head to his friend.
Only then did Watson realize that he was a witch. I could feel faint traces of his magic power. He seemed to be, as Holmes said, magical.
Yes, it was visible. Watson wasn’t sure.
Is it really magic?
I had never heard of such magic. Examining the bodies, Watson found that strangely enough, they were all indistinguishable from those who had just been murdered.
He did not simply slow down corruption.
“This…” “I’ve never heard of magic like this.”
“… It might be possible with the fairies who are now gone. Because they were the true masters of magic. Or not…… Have the devil worshipers finally succeeded in summoning a devil?”
“What?”
At that moment, Watson, who could not tell whether Holmes’ words were a bad joke or serious, had no choice but to ask back sharply.
Then Holmes shrugged his shoulders. Of course, she still had no confidence on her face. However, she pointed out the common wounds on her corpses.
“It was made with a sharp weapon. Maybe… “It’s like a razor blade.”
“You can be sure, Watson. Look at what’s left of this fellow’s head here, poor Edwin Drood. Strangely, one side is clean, but the other side has whiskers. “He died while being shaved.”
“So the culprit is a razor?”
“That could be possible. However, she may have disguised herself as a devil worshiper. “Why did you cut yourself like this and pretend to collect blood?”
Watson did not answer. No, she couldn’t answer.
Holmes also concentrated on observation, as if it was not something she particularly wanted to do, and Watson also continued her simple autopsy work.
30 Minutes was clearly too short. But somehow, her own friend Holmes took care of it without saying much to Mr. Mycroft Holmes, and when the time came, they exchanged a few words and went out, taking Watson with them.
“Now… “What are you going to do?”
So Watson had no choice but to ask cautiously.
And as always, her friend answered.
However, as always, the moment she heard it, she was taken aback and had no choice but to ask back.
“I have to go find the vampires, Watson.”
“… What?”
