60 – The teacher’s office is in the basement of our mansion
As he opened his eyes, James Moriarty realized that he had fallen asleep for a moment. Was it because he had a mild headache that he had no choice but to take cold medicine containing a little opium?
His head hurt, and for a moment he couldn’t fully concentrate. Even though he knew that eating opium was much less addictive than smoking it, he had no choice but to always be careful.
He was living in a time and country where there was no common sense that drugs would lead to addiction.
Decades ago, even when discussing whether it was okay to sell opium to the Chinese, it was the British who discussed whether it was okay to interfere with that country’s policy, not the harm of selling drugs.
Of course, no one denied the fact that drug addicts exist. But that was just a personal matter.
Many people believed that a strong-willed and proper person would not be addicted to drugs.
Of course, this belief, and the ignorance of pharmaceutical companies, doctors, and politicians who were unwilling to acknowledge the risk, was a good opportunity for Moriarty.
At the moment, it was good to catch the weaknesses of some upper-class people who did not know that they were addicted to drugs, or who were unwilling to admit it to themselves, at some of the stores that he unofficially ran.
As such, Moriarty slowly regained his senses, blinked his eyes for a moment, and slowly began to look around.
‘I need to reduce my medication.’
Soon he was able to come to a conclusion.
He was clearly in his office before falling asleep. He vividly remembered receiving a report from Moran that he had just finished silencing the bank robber according to orders.
It was a daily life no different from usual.
He gives orders, and Moran faithfully carries out the orders and reports. He was already a grown child, but Moriarty knew he was dreaming when he got to the point of fondling Moran himself, patting him on the head and sending him off to get back to work.
In fact, if he were an ordinary person, he might have felt afraid that he suddenly woke up in an unfamiliar place.
Moriarty was also embarrassed for a moment, but he soon calmly looked around and was able to conclude that this was all a dream.
It had to be that way.
He woke up alone in an unfamiliar basement.
The only reason I knew this was a basement was because of the small window on the wall on the far side. Through him, he could tell that this was the basement of some mansion or building because the sunlight was coming in.
It was truly a strange place. First of all, it was like that from the window. It was by no means an ordinary window. There were no glass windows, and there were dense iron bars as if they were designed to imprison someone.
However, the designer’s skill itself was worthy of praise. It must have been cleverly designed, because the sunlight pouring in through the small iron bars was enough to brighten the interior.
“If there was a psychiatrist, I would have received counseling.”
Moriarty muttered as he unconsciously looked back at the ridiculous sight. Of course, there were no proper psychiatrists or doctors in the world he lived in, so it was like a joke he told himself.
Superstitious people often tended to accept dreams as predictions or revelations about the future. This may have been especially true because it was an age where magic existed.
Of course, Moriarty was no fool, so he knew that the sight before his eyes was just a strange creation of his own brain.
Still, he had no choice but to admit that it was a slightly unusual dream.
When I often dream, I often dream of things that happened in the past as if they were being repeated. This was definitely the first time he had encountered a place like this that he couldn’t even remember.
I guess it was because of opium.
The famous British poet Coolidge’s anecdote about meeting Kublai Khan in a dream he had right after taking his opium and writing it down in poetry was famous.
It was so common for self-proclaimed artists in London to smoke opium in opium dens, citing this anecdote, that even Moriarty could not have known about it.
‘Chains.’
When he stood up, he was able to notice the presence of shackles on his ankles. Of course, it was possible because it was a dream.
Like a prisoner in prison, he couldn’t help but smile bitterly at the presence of shackles to prevent his movements.
What on earth does this mean?
Could this mean that even a slight sense of guilt remains in his subconscious? Of course, that couldn’t have been the case.
It was still a dream, so he calmly examined the shackles.
Then, he suddenly discovered that he was lying on the bed wearing quite an unusual outfit. The bed was large enough for four or five adult men to run around and play. If you saw the shackles on your ankles, you would be a prisoner in your dream, but it was literally a luxurious bed that was not suitable for a prisoner.
On the other hand, their clothing was poorer than that of street wanderers. It wasn’t dirty, but at most he had only one shirt on.
Strangely, right after I woke up, I felt weaker than usual. It felt like my energy had been sucked out.
Because it was a dream anyway, he didn’t pay much attention and focused on observing the shackles and the surroundings.
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Because it came with a fairly heavy iron ball, it was quite uncomfortable to move. However, I was able to get a glimpse of the strange consideration of the person who was shackled.
If you wear shackles made of cold iron on your ankles, you are bound to get hurt. However, the person who had shackled him had placed a soft cloth on one side of the shackles, as if to prevent this, so his ankles were fine.
The more I looked, the less I understood what my dream meant.
If you look around, this basement is equipped with various furniture, bookshelves, and even a desk, as if you are allowed to live freely except that you are literally imprisoned here.
‘Let’s go out.’
At first, he thought he would just lie down until he woke up, but he couldn’t help but feel curious about how far this irrational space created by his brain continued.
More than anything else, it was at best a dream. I was going to wake up soon.
It was clear that this basement was indeed a solid private prison. There was an iron bar in front of the stairs going up to the first floor, and another iron bar was firmly established right in front of the door.
But the dream was just a dream. There were numerous locks and keys lying discarded on the floor, as if someone had unlocked them, and Moriarty was able to easily open the iron door.
Of course, I had no choice but to move quite slowly. Since the shackles were still there, I had no choice but to move while holding the iron ball with a grunt.
I thought about cutting off my leg, but I didn’t have the right tools, and above all, I didn’t want to take that risk even in my dreams.
And when he unknowingly looked for tools, he was able to discover that the person who locked himself in this basement did not leave any blades or dangerous objects, as if to prevent suicide or self-harm.
Unconsciously out of breath, Moriarty finally climbed the stairs and was able to come out to the first floor. The hallway before her eyes looked like one of the richest mansions in London, except for the basement.
The more I looked at it, the more bizarre it was.
It seemed like a dream that symbolized the mansion of a murderer pretending to be a gentleman. And at that moment, he felt a stranger’s presence, and for a moment fear came over him.
Nevertheless, Moriarty, uncharacteristically comforting himself by saying that it was just a dream, turned his gaze towards the direction where he felt her presence.
In an instant, I was able to breathe a small sigh of relief.
There was a little girl standing there. It was a young girl. Perhaps it resembled the Holmes in her own memories.
At first, I thought it was simply a reunion with little Miss Holmes. But I could tell she was strange. Moriarty, unlike her other idiots, had a good memory, so she could immediately tell that the girl in front of her was different from the Holmes in her own memories.
Of course, the little fairy-like kid in front of her also resembled Holmes. It made me wonder if she was a relative or niece.
Even though it was in a dream, the existence of a girl who maintained silence even when facing herself, a strange man, was strange.
But soon Moriarty could tell that the girl was observing and studying him, just as he was herself.
The girl, who quickly grasped the situation like Moriarty himself with flashing dark blue eyes that resembled Moriarty himself, smiled slightly as if she was happy to see him, but then turned around and started shouting urgently as if she was informing someone.
“Mom! Mom and Dad are here! Mom!”
“What?”
No matter how Moria Tyra was, she couldn’t help but be surprised at that moment. Was that why?
He couldn’t even recognize that someone was quickly running behind him. By the time she noticed, she had already felt a strong impact on her head and lost consciousness again.
But I guess I can wake up from this strange dream.
Thinking like that, Moriarty slowly opened her eyes. No, she had no choice but to float. The sudden pleasure stimulated his nerves like an electric shock, so much so that he almost forced his eyes open.
“Wow! Sigh…… ! Ha… …. Ha… ….”
“Are you awake, teacher? This stupid furball hit me so hard I thought I was in big trouble. So why haven’t you given up yet?”
“Ho… Phew! Like… Holmes? Oh… “Miss Watson?”
When she came to her senses, she saw Holmes smiling seductively as he had just finished injecting a suspicious injection into her forearm. And she belatedly noticed Watson’s presence next to her, touching her thigh insidiously.
Every time the two women stroked him as if they were caressing him, he had to flinch involuntarily and twist his body to avoid feeling pleasure, just like drug addicts do.
Even Moriarty couldn’t help but be embarrassed as this strange dream, which was sudden and had never occurred to him before, continued.
More than anything else, he had no choice but to resist as a strange, squishy pleasure of a kind he had never felt in his life came at him as if it were trying to destroy him.
“This…” Like this… ! Pfft!”
“Master, the weak must obey orders. That’s natural, right? Yes? Bisil?”
“Mo… Peony, you! Whoop! Hmm… Chuuu…… “Chuck!”
He tried to raise his body, but the wolf’s tail tickled his neck and pinned him down on the bed again.
It was a peony.
A startled Moriarty tried to shout, but his resistance was meaningless as Moran covered his mouth with his mouth and craved his tongue like an animal.
It seemed like he could hear Holmes or Watson complaining next to him, but the feelings of embarrassment and pleasure that threatened to destroy his mind were already trying to drown him out, so he couldn’t pay attention to the rest of his senses.
The kisses and hand gestures of those who only wanted him were providing endless stimulation.
“Sigh! Ha… ha… …. That… stop… !”
“Are you thinking about old times because you haven’t woken up from the medicine again, sir? It’s already been done, so don’t confuse the past with the present. “I’m telling you to give up soon, right, kids dad?”
“Holmes is right. We should continue gambling today, Professor……. Is today a safe day or not? “We should all check it out together, right?”
While he was out of breath, he realized too late that all three people who attacked him were only wearing underwear.
And Moriarty fell into great fear as she saw Holmes slowly climbing on top of her, as if trying to eat her.
He looked at his underwear slowly going down as if to provoke him, and even though he tried to escape by looking at the dangling thread, he could not help but despair in front of the irresistible force that held him tightly, even if he tried to somehow move his body. Then, furtively, Holmes lowered his hand to his lower body.
It literally became dark before my eyes.
And immediately after that, Moriarty involuntarily lifted himself up from his desk, gasping for breath. When he felt his entire body wet with cold sweat, he realized that he had safely woken up from a terrible nightmare.
No matter how much it was a dream, it was a terrible nightmare that he never wanted to think about again, so Moriarty had to shake his head to regain his senses.
It was so absurd that it was like a bad joke, but it was such a terrible dream that if even one thing happened, it would really be hell.
What a terrible dream it was.
James Moriarty’s joy in life lies in creating riddles, destroying people through them, and ultimately winning by completely destroying an enemy like Holmes with his own brain.
Losing oneself in meaningless pleasure and living a life like a prisoner, far from reason, was clearly crossing the line, no matter how dreamy it was.
Moriarty, who was taking a breath and looking for the bell on his desk to call Moran again and check his work, was forced to go out the window when he heard a loud noise outside.
The sight of Holmes and Moran fighting against each other to the point that the surrounding garden was ruined came into view.
