89 – Adventure of an Empty House (1)
Oysters were a favorite food of everyone living in London. It would not be an exaggeration to say that everyone, from the highest to the lowest, ate meals made with the same kinds of ingredients every day.
As such, oysters were one of the few means of proving that everyone was equal, at least in principle, in this city full of wealth and poverty.
Many of London’s old restaurants, famous restaurants for the upper class, and many others started out as oyster bars that mainly served oysters. As can be seen, Londoners ate a lot of oysters every day and used to throw away the oyster shells.
The meal itself continued peacefully. No matter how picky Holmes was and how wary he was of Mr. Moriarty and Moran, he had no choice but to unintentionally soften in front of a delicious meal.
In normal times, one might have been sarcastic, wondering if it was bizarre to enjoy such luxury solely through a professor’s salary or a successful investment that was publicly known.
However, after hard work, luxurious champagne, fresh oysters, and various dishes cleverly silenced such comments for a while.
“There are only a few places open in the evening, so I come here often. More than anything… “It’s a place that women also enjoy visiting.”
“Watson would have been disappointed if he knew.”
“This is just a story between us, but if we had brought Miss Watson along, we would have had to buy half of the oysters we sell today.”
“It’s not wrong, master. “That witch eats like a pig.”
“Be careful with your expressions, Peony.”
“Yes, master.”
While the trivial chatter continued, Holmes couldn’t help but feel a truly strange feeling. Literally for a moment, everything felt peaceful and normal.
Of course, she knew full well that all of this was a hypocritical act at best. This place was by no means a place where peaceful daily life unfolded.
It was accurate to say that Holmes herself, Mr. Moriarty, who ate silently with her, and perhaps even Moran, who worked under him, had come too far to enjoy such happiness.
And in fact, Mr. Moriarty opened his mouth subtly, as if picking on Holmes himself.
“So, do you come to Baker Street often, Holmes?”
“I rarely come here usually, teacher.”
“Really? I guess I’ll come here often from now on, then. “Did she say Wiggins, the girl we met?”
Holmes did not answer. Instead, he pretended to focus on popping raw oysters with a fork as if to vent his anger.
She may have tried to ignore it, but for Moriarty, such a reaction only added to her amusement.
What a lovely disciple this was! If Moriarty had been living as an ordinary university student, she might have somehow tried to get Holmes under her wing by making him her doctoral student.
However, it had been a long time since he had chosen a different way of playing with Holmes, and he remained silent for a moment to subtly pick on his young disciple.
“Excuse me?”
The disadvantage, not the disadvantage, of being a smoker was that he had to smoke cigarettes all the time, and this was the same for Holmes.
I had a strong sense of self-control, so I never openly used drugs in public places, but I couldn’t help but smoke. Therefore, Holmes quietly took out a pipe and began filling it with leaves, heedless of the stares of those around him.
“You can feel comfortable in front of me.”
“That’s why I’m doing this, teacher.”
“Of course I know that too.”
“Tsk.”
Moran clicked her tongue next to her master, as if she was intentionally trying to listen to the prostitute-like woman on the street who was trying to smoke a cigarette in front of her master, but perhaps because of her shameless nature, she did not pretend to listen.
Given the times, it was not a good sight to see a woman smoking in public, so it was enough to be scandalous.
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Of course, considering the attire Holmes usually wore, Moran did not realize at that moment that it was already too late to make a fuss by just lighting a cigarette.
What I didn’t like more than anything was the owner’s subsequent reaction. Whenever a prostitute on the street took out a cigarette in front of my master, like a gentleman, he would light her own cigarette every time.
Of course, I knew that my master had no choice but to take out a cigarette, but I was displeased with the way that arrogant woman always pretended to take advantage of her master’s favor and enjoy it.
Ignoring Moran’s feelings, Moriarty struck a match as usual and leaned toward her. There is no need to emphasize that Holmes was already holding a cigarette in her mouth, waiting for her teacher to light it, as she should have done.
Because he had to light a fire, Moriarty opened his mouth as if to whisper in Holmes’ ear. Of course, Holmes, who was listening, had to keep puffing to keep the embers burning in the cigarette, and the whispers combined created a strange sense of tension.
“There are certainly many interesting things in Baker Street, Holmes.”
I don’t remember exactly. However, there was clearly a deep connection between Holmes and the Baker family in the vague memories of his past life that created the relationship between his current beloved student and Moriarty himself.
Maybe this is where detective Sherlock Holmes lives?
As such, while receiving regular reports about Holmes, I was filled with a very small but strange sense of excitement when I found out that a girl under her command named Wiggins was moving to that area.
So, in hopes of stimulating her student a little and playing a little prank on her student, Moriarty whispered.
“Now that I think about it, there was Madame Tussauds’ wax museum on Baker Street. Have you ever been there, Holmes?”
The museum created by Madame Tussauds, a wax figure technician who came over from France, was one of the famous attractions of Baker Street, and as its name suggests, it was a place to display wax figures of various celebrities that were difficult to distinguish from people.
Holmes responded coldly to what sounded like a lame joke.
“… “No, sir.”
“It would be nice to go later if I get a chance. Because it’s full of really human-like dolls. Some people like third-rate novels… In fact, they often say that there are real people on display there.”
“…… “Keep that in mind.”
Holmes seemed to have taken his prank seriously, and his eyes sparkled for a moment. He was truly a gullible child.
Of course, Moriarty himself never lied. Because such ghost stories actually existed.
However, no matter how much he did, he had never done the troublesome task of turning a living person into a wax figure, so Holmes was probably going to suffer quite a bit while toiling in vain for several days.
There was a time when someone was buried alive in a wall for several days. Was your last name Drood? Although he doesn’t remember the name.
Holmes quietly blew out a small puff of cigarette smoke towards Moriarty, as if the fire had been properly lit, so he also tried to light his own cigarette by discreetly striking a match.
However, as if trying to continue an invisible war of nerves, Holmes subtly took the cigarette from his hand and lit it using his pipe as a match, so he had to shrug his shoulders as if feeling embarrassed.
Of course, he did not forget to stop Moran from getting up due to sudden provocation.
After that, the meal ended seemingly peacefully. However, instead of taking the carriage, the three men and women walked to 221B Baker Street nearby.
I couldn’t help but feel curious about Mrs. Hudson, whom I heard about from the Wiggins siblings.
Of course, to some extent, it was a journey led by Moriarty himself.
At least he was not a memorable criminal, but the fact that he was a suspicious person with ties to the Baker Street was enough to attract James Moriarty’s curiosity.
In fact, he was reluctant to go with Mr. Moriarty, but this was also similar to Holmes himself.
The presence of a wife disguised as a philanthropist, who received reports on the movements of police and suspicious people, was a presence that was difficult to overlook.
Like any street in London, Baker Street had houses that were similar in appearance, and the only thing that distinguished them was a small flower bed or name plate on the veranda.
The building with the address 221B where Moriarty and his group arrived was also the same. It couldn’t be said to be very old, but it was an old-looking building, as it had been built more than 10 years ago, and it looked very ordinary on the outside.
Of course, as with the buildings on the streets of London, it was clear that the price of the building was anything but ordinary. Above all, since Baker Street itself was one of the wealthiest areas in London, it was clear that real estate prices were difficult for ordinary people to imagine.
Considering that most people in London live by paying rent, it was clear that Mrs. Hudson, who owned a building on Baker Street, was a suspiciously wealthy woman.
Of course, she could not rule out the possibility that Mr. Hudson was rich.
“It must have cost a lot of money.”
Moriarty muttered. Of course, considering the wealth he had, he was almost sarcastic.
However, loyally, Moran quickly whispered to the master the approximate prices of buildings in the area, hoping it would help him make his decision.
Thanks to using his savings to buy a home, Sebastian Moran was unintentionally well-versed in the average prices of mansions in London and its surrounding areas.
Unlike Moriarty and Moran, Holmes closed his eyes for a moment and focused on his sense of smell. It was a familiar smell, and I was able to recognize this smell faster than peonies.
The strong smell of Holmes’ friends, the medicine, was emanating from the building.
Meanwhile, the front door of the building at number 221B opened and a gentleman with a lot of luggage was coming out angrily. A middle-aged woman ran out as if she was trying to stop him in some way.
“Where are you going, what about the contract! “You can’t cancel the contract so recklessly, sir!”
“Take it all! Then, report it to the police! If only I could! I told you, Mrs. Hudson! This building is haunted! “I can’t stay here even for a moment longer!”
