208 – Fall (2)
Jane Watson was originally a person who was far from silence. He was a witch by birth, so he was very sociable, except that he was often put off by people’s unfounded fears. He also enjoyed conversation with other people, was interested in many topics, and hated monotony above all else.
Thanks to her outstanding appearance, and her beauty that often charms people as if she were casting a spell just by keeping her mouth shut, it was easy for her to talk to people, so it may have been natural for her to do so. Of course, Holmes, who was far from her sociability and whose personality was closer to the eccentric side, often sarcastically called Watson a noisemaker, but Jane Watson and her silence were very distant.
But for this moment, Jane Watson had no choice but to remain silent. She hated this uncomfortable silence so much, but that didn’t stop her from breaking it as hard as she usually did.
There was a ‘murderer’ who confessed to her murder right before her own eyes. She sat so sadly. Jane Watson could see the guilt and self-destruction in the killer’s eyes, and without realizing it, she felt pity for him.
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Her ‘killer’ was her own friend. She was his very dear friend, and she was a colleague with whom he shared a common goal.
Jane Watson, as Holmes clearly acknowledged, was a very good person. Therefore, when her friend calmly confesses and admits to her murder, her compassion and empathy for her friend’s pain take precedence over her fear.
But Watson had to deny that feeling again. If she accepted it, she would be admitting that Holmes’s confession was true.
“No… Are you kidding? No matter how much Holmes, you… Something like that… That’s a really bad joke. “No matter how I am, it’s not funny.”
“Watson, I understand your heart… No, I’m not sure. Because I am not you, because I am not a good person like you. But… Watson, it’s true. You know that I hate saying stupid things like lies. What… Strictly speaking, it might not be murder, but neglect. But for me at least… It’s the same as murder. Yeah, I… “You’ve got blood on her hands again, ha!”
At the same time, Holmes was fiddling with his white and beautiful hands without even realizing it. But once again, the guilt of that day, a dozen years ago, seemed to be creeping up from oblivion.
At this point, he was disqualified as a detective. Clearly, at this moment, he was not Master Moriarty’s opponent, but was closer to him.
What really scares me and makes me hate myself is when I have those thoughts… Rather, I felt a sense of relief, even if only slightly, in that I felt the same as Mr. Moriarty. But he didn’t show it.
No, I tried my best to look away and focus on the conversation with Watson.
“Uh… Slit? Holmes, there is no reason for you to do such a thing. “If I knew you, there was no need to do such a thing!”
“Thank you for speaking so highly of me, Watson, but I am clearly a monster. If you were more just than anyone else, you would not have compromised. But I… Yes, I thought too rationally, and I thought there was nothing I could do… “I stood by.”
“So why!”
Holmes smiled bitterly at Watson’s interrogation. If you think rationally, he had no reason to answer Watson’s question. It was foolish to get caught up in what had already happened, and doing so would diminish the meaning of the inevitable sacrifice.
But Holmes did not want to do this to his friend.
“… Fred Forlock, the only hand I have at the moment… Maybe the strongest card… I was being suspected by my teacher. Of course, it was still just a minor suspicion. However, depending on the outcome of this incident, the direction of that suspicion could have changed. So… I stood by. “I weighed Douglas’ life against my means of opposing you.”
“Holmes.”
“No, that’s an excuse. I know, Watson. If I had tried harder, I might have found a way to avoid sacrificing either party. But I didn’t. Because I felt there was no reason to do that. Me… I am… Although I said I would stand up to Teacher Moriarty, in the end I was no different from him… “He’s such a villain.”
For the first time, Watson felt unfamiliar with the friend in front of her. She was a friend whom I had known for less than a few years, even if you add up the time before she lost her memory. To call her a lifelong friend who knows everything, I felt that she was objectively lacking.
However, even during that short period of time, Watson knew how well she and Holmes were compatible, and she instinctively knew that they were friends who would remain together for the rest of their lives.
It seemed like the girl in front of her was not the Holmes she knew. The girl, who seemed to be trying to hide her face with her hands trembling with guilt, was a young girl whom Watson did not know. A girl that probably only James Moriarty knows.
So Watson had no choice but to hand it over from above. Although he was stimulated by his friend’s weakness, even Watson could not unconditionally emphasize justice in Holmes’ remarks.
“Ho… Holmes! Calm down, okay… It’s not your fault! I trust you, Holmes, and you didn’t neglect it on purpose, did you? On the contrary, I would be disappointed if you didn’t feel guilty. “But no!”
“I’m a murderer, Watson.”
Is it because my mind has become weak due to guilt? In the arms of Watson, who hugged him as if comforting him, Holmes began to quietly confess to himself the terrible past that he could not tell anyone.
Jane Watson was clearly a good listener and friend. As he calmly listened to the confession, he just hugged his friend tighter as if to comfort him.
After hearing the story, Watson had to be careful to open his mouth. Holmes’ current condition was clearly not normal. Something is broken somewhere!
Although the human mind was not Watson’s area of expertise, he instinctively knew that it was not a good idea for doctors of this era to approach it as they did with madmen.
More than anything, his friend’s condition seemed very dangerous.
“Holmes, it’s not your fault! All… “It’s all Professor Moriarty’s fault, you’re not a villain!”
“… Yes, I guess so.”
“Home… increase?”
For a moment, Watson could not help but stutter as he watched his friend coldly making a promise to himself, like the Holmes he knew. It was definitely a positive thing to feel energized, but such a sudden change could not help but cause concern.
However, Holmes smiled slightly at Watson as if he was really okay.
“Don’t worry, Watson. Because it won’t break or anything like you worry about. Yes, I can’t until I finish what I have to do.”
“What if it’s over?”
“Huh?”
“Ah… no.”
Watson couldn’t ask more.
But he couldn’t help but think of the terrible assumption that perhaps his friend would kill himself after everything was over.
Watson, as his friend, could see that at the end of the confrontation between Holmes and Professor Moriarty, he had to find a way somehow.
“Is that so? Okay. Then… I’m going to go for a short walk, you don’t have to follow me. I’m really fine, Watson. It’s because I need to think alone for a while. “Do you believe me, Watson?”
“… “Come back before it’s too late.”
Watson could not bear to stop Holmes from stepping out.
But if he had known that his friend’s destination was Professor James Moriarty’s drawing room, he would have stopped him.
James Moriarty couldn’t help but be a little puzzled, even as he welcomed his student who immediately came to visit him, as if responding to his playful letter.
Because I didn’t yet know what happened between Porok and Holmes, I couldn’t know the exact circumstances. However, the disciple who found him was strangely closer to a disciple who wanted comfort, rather than a detective who was angry at provocation and angry at an evil villain.
So Moriarty was able to make a reasonable inference right away.
“You overlooked Douglas’ death.”
“… “Yes, I did, sir.”
“It’s not bad. Well, it wasn’t a bad thing that you tried to save him because of your sense of justice, but it seems like you’ve grown a little. Yes, it would be inefficient to bother trying to save him.”
Holmes trembled for a moment at Mr. Moriarty’s words, but avoided his face and looked down at his teacup.
As if to be considerate of his students, he even deliberately let Peony go outside, so there were only two people in the drawing room, the teacher and his student.
It was a truly bizarre scene. They were enemies, destined to be enemies, but at the same time, there were two murderers sitting here in London who could understand each other.
So, for the first time, Holmes had no choice but to ask as a different being.
“Teacher… “Is it okay?”
To this, Moriarty, as her senior and teacher, responded.
“That’s foolish, Holmes. “You’re an adult now, right?”
“But…” ….”
“Don’t concern yourself with useless things, Holmes. It’s pointless. There are more important things to you. You have a goal of catching me, right? All you have to do is make me have fun like that. That’s why I have you as my student, and as a detective, it’s your job to catch me like that. “Isn’t that right?”
James Moriarty spoke his truth.
There were no emotions whatsoever regarding Douglas’ death. The reason I bothered to deal with him in the first place was for the sake of perfection.
To that extent, it seemed unsightly to him that his disciple, who was supposed to please him, was clinging to a useless death at best.
But at that moment, he did not feel the strangeness of Holmes’s eyes flashing and staring at Moriarty himself as if he would forever be in his eyes. In the first place, worrying about such ‘stupid feelings’ was just a waste to him.
“Yes, that’s right. What I have to do is… “There is only one teacher.”
“It’s better than when I came in. That’s a nice look. “I’m looking forward to it.”
When the return letter, which was buried in guilt and seemed like it could end his life at any moment, finally returned to the way he knew it, Moriarty seemed satisfied and got up and started looking for an invitation to hand to his disciple.
Holmes continued to look at the teacher’s back with red, sparkling eyes.
It was only when an invitation was placed in front of him that Holmes was able to take his eyes off his teacher.
“What is this?”
“A typical social club invitation. “It’s up to you how you take it.”
– Red Head Club.
The envelope of the letter given by James Moriarty had such a phrase engraved in luxurious gold.
