Chapter 22 Execution of Sherlock Holmes!

"Execution of Sherlock Holmes!"

The headline on the front page of the newspaper was printed with this sentence.

Luna picked up the newspaper, "Hasn't it been announced yet whether it is him or not?" "

Humans like this feeling. If one of the suspects is a righteous hero who has solved a mystery, then everyone hopes it is him." Gold said lightly, "Because watching a hero fall from the altar is a spiritual enjoyment for humans." "

Why?" Luna asked.

"I don't know." Gold said softly, "Because their nature is mixed, half angel and half devil."

"Probably so." Gold said, "They desire justice, but they don't believe that anyone can be purely righteous."

"This will make you look very despicable." Gold drank the black tea slowly.

Watson observed the friend brought by Luna. Luna said that Gold could be trusted completely, but he couldn't help but consider another thing, that is, whether Luna could be trusted completely.

He did not doubt the nature of this girl. After all, he had never seen any god in the mysticism who would make such conditions to his believers. However, he doubted Luna's understanding of human society.

Whether the helpers she found could make things better or worse was still debatable.

Luna blinked and looked at the newspaper. Many media people had already described this crime vividly. Then her eyes fell on a letter.

"Sherlock Holmes has an improper desire for girls." She read the contents of the letter. "He has raised a girl who is suspected of having intellectual problems in his apartment."

Luna tilted her head and carefully thought about the meaning of each word.

"Girl with intellectual problems." She chewed, then raised a hand and pointed at her temples. "Are you talking about me?"

"You can understand it so quickly, which shows that you can integrate into human society very quickly." Gold encouraged kindly and gently.

Watson had to say in his heart that if the relationship between you is applied to humans, you will be beaten eight times a day.

But Luna was satisfied with this compliment.

"Who wrote this letter?" Her eyes fell, "I think I've seen this name before."

She turned the newspaper in her hand over and handed it to Watson.

Watson saw the name.

"That governor." He said, biting the cigarette butt hard. He visited him several times later. After the guy apologized publicly, he was demoted.

But after that, there was no teddy bear following him. What followed him was the ubiquitous condemnation. Of course, Watson expected that the voice that followed him like a shadow came from his heart, the voice of conscience.

But he obviously didn't have that.

After the teddy bear and Luna's memories were repaired by the powerful inertia of human common sense, his perception of the incident became that after he handled the case, an ignorant novelist exposed the incident in the newspaper, which made him like a rat crossing the street.

In his perception, Holmes was the friend of this third-rate novelist and the source of material.

Watson took a deep breath. Although he wanted to ring the guy's doorbell and give him a few uppercuts, so that he would have to go to work with a bandage for the next few days, there was undoubtedly something more important now.

The letter from the governor was just fueling the rumor.

But it was true that everyone around knew that he and Sherlock Holmes had taken in a girl with intellectual disabilities.

Although it was not polite to say so, Luna should be seen as a mentally retarded girl in the eyes of the world.

Luna sat on the other side, looking at his expression seriously, put her hands on her knees, and blinked her heterochromatic eyes.

"So Miss Luna." Watson tried to sort out a primary task, "Do you have a way to prevent Holmes' memory from merging with Jack?" "

It seems to be the power of lavender liquid." Gold reminded, and began to eat a piece of cake with his fingertips.

"Do you have a way?" Watson asked.

"No," Luna shook her head, "If I could deal with it, I wouldn't hate lavender."

"Lavender is some kind of medium." Luna explained vaguely, "For the human spirit, it is like a prism. A prism can refract sunlight into seven colors of light, so lavender can also dissociate the human spiritual world and piece it together with some other parts, and then their main body is not aware of the problem."

"You said that Jack is a human being." Watson crossed his fingers, leaned forward and asked, "Can humans do this?"

"Only humans can do this." Gold said softly, "Only humans can understand humans."

"We can't piece it together accurately, and there is no way to make it seamless, because we are not human beings, and we will never become human beings." Gold said, she stared at the top of Luna's head, "Just like we all think that Luna is an absolute strong man."

"And humans," she spread out one hand, stretched out her fingers one by one, and sneered, "say she is a mentally retarded girl."

"I think the matter of the mentally retarded girl can be put aside for now." Luna said dissatisfiedly, "Sooner or later, I will let all humans remember me. I am the greatest holder of wisdom eyes and the master of all truths."

"And she is a mentally retarded girl." Gold touched her head, as if he was stroking a little rabbit.

Luna raised his eyes, "Doesn't the mentally retarded girl conflict with the previous one?"

"It doesn't conflict with humans." Gold raised a finger and smiled with curved eyebrows.

Watson felt in his heart that Gold did understand humans better, but it was only from her perspective.

He suddenly remembered something.

Gold, it sounds like a homonym of gold. Their names were all given by humans. Although Gold was unwilling to reveal her nature and real name, looking at her graceful and elegant appearance and friendly manners.

Is she the legendary King of Plenty?

However, how can the King of Plenty claim to be the most suitable to deal with Jack?

Watson raised his hand and pressed the solar plexus with the base of his palm. He had to try to reason, not because he was so good at this, but because he still had friends who needed his help.

Mycroft Holmes promised to try to smooth over public opinion.

"But this is not easy to do." Mycroft said, and he put out the cigarette in his hand. "Dr. Watson, this development is really in line with human preferences."

"They really like such stories too much, to the extent that even if they are false, they still want it to be true."

Humans like to see the noble fall into dust and the righteous fall. What an exciting double life it is. During the day, he is a famous detective in London rumors, and at night he is the most vicious and perverted murderer.

Jack is Holmes.

This conjecture alone is enough to cheer up the citizens whose lives are empty and boring.

Have you heard that Jack is Sherlock Holmes?

With just one sentence, you can become a star in the pub.

Jack the Ripper is actually Sherlock Holmes.

Such a front-page headline is enough to make any newspaper earn a lot of money.

People can't stop.

The more it is banned, the more fanatical they are, and once the discussion is banned, they will definitely think that this is the truth, and make up more interesting shady plots and conspiracies, and discuss more fiercely.

This is much more interesting than caring about the injustice of the girl

. It has to be said that Jack the Ripper is a big villain, and a big villain who has a thorough understanding of human beings.

Disgusting, but difficult to defeat.

"I heard that you have sex with them before killing them." The jailer lit a cigarette and asked curiously, "Then how many people have you had sex with?"

The gray-eyed man sat silently in the gray cell, he looked at his hands and the monotonous floor.

Under the premise that he is very likely to be Jack the Ripper, countless people have asked him this question.

In this prison, their lives are more boring.

Compared to the truth, blood and sex are more popular and more eternal.

Sherlock Holmes couldn't answer this question.

There seemed to be some fragments of murder in his brain, and he did not rule out the fact that he was Jack the Ripper.

People can also have sex while sleepwalking, and he knew that this had been confirmed.

However.

He raised his eyes slightly and looked at the jailer standing at the door with a curious look on his face.

"I don't know." He spoke, his vocal cords were unfamiliar and hoarse from long-term use.

The jailer was obviously very interested. The young man had not spoken for three days. He thought he would not answer all the questions, but he actually spoke.

"It is difficult to remember things in sleepwalking." Sherlock Holmes said, he raised his head, and looked directly at the jailer with a pair of gray eyes. It

was really uncomfortable to be looked at directly by this guy, the jailer thought, he took a deep puff of cigarette, and thought with disdain in his heart, do you want to blame it on dreaming? It is said that this can reduce the punishment. He has a brother in a high position, and he should have arranged this set of rhetoric.

He laughed, "You can tell the judge about this, but it's useless to tell me."

"You've been here for four nights, and you haven't moved at all when you sleep at night." The jailer said contemptuously, "Are you going to sleepwalk tonight to pretend?"

He didn't have sleepwalking. Sherlock Holmes trembled slightly, as if he had crawled out of ice water.

He was not sure whether he had sleepwalking, and now he should not have sleepwalking.

But those scattered fragments did appear in his mind.

Has he ever encountered something that science cannot explain?

Is there such a thing?

He put down his hand and leaned against the wall gently, and then he felt the wool on his back hooked on the rough wall. He reached out and touched it, and then he touched a small dent on his coat.

What is this?

When did he burn his coat?

No, he didn't burn it himself.

The cover-up of human common sense in the brain began to recede layer by layer.

He saw the gray and white inner London, and then saw a girl with heterochromatic eyes standing on the empty street.

"Luna." He whispered a name.

Her name was Luna, which was the name he gave her. She was the king of the other world, the thirteenth king, and the first prey that the Ripper missed that night.

Luna, he silently chanted this name in his heart, and he suddenly felt a certain connection reviving in his body, as if he could vaguely see a pale golden crescent moon.

Her blessing really enveloped him again the moment he thought of her.

Sure enough, within three days of leaving the king, the memory of human beings would be almost corrected invisibly, and so was he. Although Luna's rash agreement was fragile, it could also protect her well, so that no human could remember her forever.

Luna, the king, the other world, the believer, the Ripper, all the information instantly receded under the cover of common sense.

He knew that in order to remember this information, he could no longer drink water.

He licked the white dead skin on his dry lips and lowered his eyes silently. Since all the information had returned to his mind, he would definitely be able to find the man before he died of thirst.

No one here cares about the truth.

However, the truth was far more exciting to him than blood and sex.

"Can you give me the newspaper?" he asked, looking at the jailer, taking out a large coin from his pocket and handing it to the other party