Miss Holmes, the Professor Is Not a Villain - Miss Holmes, the Professor Is Not a Villain chapter 118

118 – Turning the tables (3)

Like a married man whose wife took the children to her parents’ house, James Moriarty was able to spend time enjoying freedom in an empty mansion. .

Of course, this did not mean that he completely broke down his usual routine and entered a loose life. He opened his eyes at a time he had already become mechanically accustomed to, washed and shaved as usual, and ate a simple meal while wearing the everyday clothes that Moran had prepared for him before forcing him to leave the mansion.

However, Moriarty could feel quite empty. He felt as if one day he would indirectly know what it was like to be a man who suddenly lost his left hand.

It seems that she thought she was a rich boy who had to take care of her at times, because Moran stuck by her side like a nanny and helped her.

Moran, who had been with Moriarty for a long time and knew the appropriate line, would sometimes be right next to him and help him, but would always keep his distance just before telling him to stop because it was burdensome.

Moran’s vacancy was clearly bigger for Moriarty than he thought. But Moriarty thought that was all he could do.

However, without him noticing, even while he was eating, detailed differences were appearing. Unlike the meals Moran always prepared, Moriarty simply ate a few slices of bread for breakfast like a monk, and he was likely to do the same for lunch and dinner unless something special happened.

If Moran had been next to him, he would have freaked out and prepared a proper breakfast, and for the sake of his master’s health, who would skip meals if left alone, he would have force-fed him, but right now, no one dared interfere with Moriarty’s life. .

There was no lecture today, and there was no reason to go to school. So Moriarty returned to his study and concentrated on simple work for a while.

He suddenly felt like drinking tea, but he gave up and instead took out a bottle of alcohol and lit a cigarette.

His hum came out spontaneously. It was by no means a joy at having gained a moment of freedom by not having peonies. There was no way Moriarty himself could have felt such joy in the first place.

Peony was just a useful tool, and he could throw it away or replace it with something else whenever he wanted.

At least Moriarty thought so, and he was confident.

But he was waiting for his guest.

When he secretly thought about the draft of a paper he would have to present in order to maintain his proper reputation as a professor, or when he was thinking about the answer to someone’s request that had to be processed by next week, he only thought about one customer.

James Moriarty was very satisfied with his current life, and he could confidently say that he was feeling happy every day.

Compared to 10 years ago, when he was living a terribly boring life, now every day is enjoyable. And since last summer, every day has been more enjoyable.

Because he was able to meet again the playmate he had been waiting for his whole life, feel joy by playing with that toy, and enjoy the rewards of life.

Toys.

Yes, it is a toy. Sherlock, that boy was a great toy to Moriarty, a beloved student.

Everything was play. It was a childish game. But it had to be that way. Because the student he was playing with was still just a child.

Sometimes Moriarty wondered if it would be okay to test him properly, but then the fear of the child being truly ruined would stop him.

Of course, in the end, the toy called Sherlock Holmes was going to be completely broken, and when the play was over, he was going to throw it away without even looking at it anymore.

It was something that could not be helped, and it was a very natural fact.

No matter how much he provoked Holmes to prove that he was a villain, and even though he had just started the game properly, he could not even imagine his own defeat.

In Moriarty’s system, his victory was so self-evident that it was not necessary to prove it.

You may think it’s arrogant, but in Moriarty’s opinion, he was fully qualified to harbor such arrogant thoughts.

However, it would also be true that Moriarty would not feel regretful even if the only way left was for the child to completely collapse and die in a horrible, broken state.

In that respect, Sherlock, that child was very precious to him. Because he was like a fairy who gave him inspiration and a muse for artists.

If he hadn’t met that child, it was clear that he would have lived a more horrible and boring life.

Moriarty didn’t believe in fate, but he was sure that it was Sherlock, that kid, who had brought him into this interesting life.

Is it because she is a girl with fairy blood? Come to think of it, I heard people who study fairies, like Professor Moreau at the university, say that old fairies often used to inspire people. There are many fairy tales and artists’ paintings that romanticize fairies that contain similar content.

Of course, that really couldn’t have happened. There were more than one person with fairy blood, and Sherlock’s case was just a coincidence.

It was definitely not a normal accident. Of course, he knew it too.

Even when he faced Holmes, he always felt that tormenting the child was another form of pleasure.

Is it because she is a villain who is the detective’s nemesis?

Maybe that’s the case, or maybe it’s because of his innate bad taste. But I guess it was good.

Moriarty waited for Holmes again, and while she was wandering around the study anxiously without realizing it, she could see her own fairy, whom she had been looking forward to from afar, coming towards here from afar outside the window.

Moriarty himself, reflected through the window, was smiling broadly.

With his eyes sparkling like a child waiting for a Christmas present, Sherlock Holmes was striding toward his destination with a stern expression, without even feeling those eyes looking at him through the window.

Watson was not next to me. She couldn’t help it. Because I had to solve this problem alone. Is it the same for the other person?

Seeing as the horny wolf did not come out of the mansion, it was clear that the other person was also waiting for him alone. Well, he was lucky enough to escape, but he must have been hurt, so it wasn’t strange.

Still, I couldn’t help but feel a little exhausted because I was secretly anticipating that we would encounter each other. Considering the wolf’s nature, I thought he would be there to protect his owner even if his limbs were broken.

Even though he was heading towards the mansion without being able to hide his murderous intent, the faithful and horny wolf that always protected the man like his own life showed no sign of coming out, so this was a matter between him and himself.

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As he thought about it at this moment and tried to unconsciously feel a little pleasure, Holmes clenched his fist even more tightly and bit his teeth.

When I arrived at the door of the mansion, I didn’t even think about ringing the doorbell like I usually did. Instead, she literally kicked the door down.

– Boom!

The door was broken in two and flew into the mansion, and dust rose up in front of my eyes for a moment.

Ignoring it, Holmes walked inside. Then, as if they had been waiting, someone coughed on purpose and opened his mouth at the top of the stairs that started from the hall past the entrance and led to the second floor.

“No matter how rough our relationship is, it’s too rough, Holmes.”

“… Where are you?”

“Well, if you want to express a proposition, use the subject straight-“

“Ask again. Where is Sherringford Homes?”

“Come up, you are still a guest, so you should treat yourself well.”

With that, Moriarty turned his back and disappeared toward the study, as if he would no longer listen to what Holmes said, and Holmes, glaring at his back, followed in silence.

Even after arriving at the study, there was no conversation between the two.

It was a familiar study. It was a familiar place to work as an assistant after being tricked by James Moriarty, but today it looked like a huge gambling house.

Moriarty’s study was both a study and a place to welcome guests, so there were small tables and several chairs for guests, and Moriarty sat at the head table first.

As Holmes sat across from him, facing him, no, continuing to glare, Moriarty greeted his student with a friendly smile again.

“Still, it’s a shame you brought it up all at once, Holmes. I wanted to comment on how you went from a coincidence at Suicide Club to giving me a pretty big blow. Smoke it.”

Moriarty then took out a luxurious cigar from the cigar box placed on the table, cut it by hand, and then handed it to Holmes.

As if it was obvious, Holmes took it and asked for it, then took out his share again and thrust it into Moriarty’s face, asking for a cigarette in silence.

And as if it were natural, Moriarty lit his own cigarette, and Holmes helped Moriarty light his own cigar using the relit cigar as a match. The two people’s breaths were so close that they seemed to mingle, but they didn’t even move.

There were only two gamblers who were about to gamble.

After taking a cold puff of cigarette smoke, Holmes opened his mouth again.

“Let me ask again. Where are you?”

Instead of answering, Moriarty searched his inside pocket and placed a gold ring on the table for Holmes to see.

Even after seeing that, Holmes didn’t seem to react at all. Of course, I could tell at a glance that what was on the table was my older brother’s wedding ring.

But, still glaring coldly at the teacher, Holmes opened his mouth.

“Where is it?”

“To Duke Florizel… “You probably heard the story, right?”

This time, instead of answering the question, Moriarty took out two cards and placed them face down on the table. Moriarty opened his mouth again to Holmes, who did not even move a muscle.

“If it’s the ace of spades, it’s a death sentence, and if it’s the ace of clubs, it’s an executioner. Of course, if you want to save your brother intact, you will have to leave it up to luck, disciple.”