Chapter Index





    Ch.26Chapter 26 – The Speckled Band

    “Hmm?”

    An unfamiliar ceiling.

    “……..?”

    No, a somewhat familiar ceiling.

    A bedroom that I seemed to have visited before stretched out before my eyes.

    “Are you finally coming to your senses?”

    As I was blankly looking around, I turned my head toward the voice coming from beside me and froze.

    “You were unconscious for days after being stabbed.”

    “Ah…”

    “We were worried you might have mental issues based on your final reaction, but fortunately that doesn’t seem to be the case.”

    I was frozen because Sharlotte Holmes’s soul partner, Rachel Watson, was sitting next to my bed with her chin resting on her hand.

    “Holmes is investigating with fire in her eyes since you got hurt. If it weren’t for her request, I wouldn’t even be able to enter this VIP room…”

    “Dr. Watson?”

    “…You know my name. Even though you’ve never met me before.”

    As I muttered that while staring blankly at her, Rachel Watson raises her eyebrows and asks.

    “I saw the nameplate on your medical coat.”

    “My coat is hanging by the door right now, which has nothing to do with me.”

    “I should also mention that your fingertips smell of disinfectant, there are stethoscope marks on your neck, and there’s a slight trace of a gunshot wound on your shoulder.”

    “…Hmm.”

    “And there’s also a medal of honor on your medical uniform. All of those are characteristics of Dr. Watson described in the case journals that have been selling well recently.”

    After hearing my explanation, she briefly looked herself over, then scratched her head quietly with a look that seemed to say “I guess so.”

    Only then did her appearance, which I was seeing for the first time since falling into this world, come into clear view.

    She had a neat and proper appearance that could be called the model of a London lady. Short brown hair with a slight orange tint. But also an unexpectedly dignified appearance from her background as a military doctor.

    Indeed, she was the Rachel Watson I had reviewed.

    “You’re using a familiar method of deduction.”

    After clearing her throat, she asked me that.

    “It’s the method of someone I’ve watched over and over again. I liked it so much that I’ve become able to imitate it somewhat.”

    I was actually quoting dialogue directly from the game, but since I couldn’t say that, I gave a vague answer.

    “You.”

    Suddenly, Watson’s gaze turned cold.

    “Tell me honestly.”

    “…Pardon?”

    “What are your intentions in approaching Sharlotte?”

    With her arms crossed and legs crossed in a way that didn’t match her image as a London lady, she looked down at me coldly and asked.

    “What intentions?”

    “Well, you’re garbage. You.”

    A statement that made my heart ache a little.

    “That’s a bit harsh.”

    “Is that something a person who approaches vulnerable women, replaces their entire life with himself, and then abandons them without looking back should say?”

    “……..”

    “And then you even enjoy watching the abandoned woman fall apart afterward.”

    But the problem is that from Rachel Watson’s perspective, all of this is the truth.

    “Human garbage.”

    “………”

    “Just die.”

    “…Is that something a doctor should say?”

    “Have an accident and become a vegetable.”

    Being berated with such a cold attitude from the most proper lady in London was truly strange.

    “……….”

    “I’m sorry, but that pitiful expression doesn’t work on me.”

    So as I quietly scratched my head while looking at Watson, she suddenly wagged her finger and whispered.

    “I already have someone I’ve given my heart to.”

    After saying that, she looked down at me with a confident expression, with one fang protruding from the corner of her mouth.

    “I’m sorry, but you’re not my type either.”

    “Hmph, you speak well. To me, who has followed an elite path that wouldn’t lose to most people…”

    “Because if you married a gambling addict who pours half of his military pension into horse racing, you never know when you might be kidnapped in his place.”

    Seeing her quite annoying appearance, I quietly leaked information from the original work, causing Watson to look at me with a stunned expression.

    “H-how did you know that…”

    “Moreover, the time on the betting slip sticking out of your pocket is weekend evening, perfect for a date. It seems you prefer horses to your lover.”

    “No, that’s…”

    “Or perhaps you have a hidden self-destructive desire.”

    “Shut up!”

    Looking at Watson who shouted with a reddened face, I whispered in a low voice.

    “Would you like me to destroy you? Dr. Watson?”

    “A-are you… threatening me now?”

    “Secretly holding hands behind Holmes’s back. It would certainly be thrilling.”

    Hearing my continued words, Watson, seemingly not immune to such talk, shuddered and stood up from her seat.

    “I was worried when Sharlotte quit magic stones and cigarettes… but as I thought, you’re garbage.”

    “Thank you for the compliment.”

    “Fine. Rude human.”

    So, I’m supposed to have a ‘fraudulent marriage’ with this righteous and upright lady in the future?

    “If you truly love Sharlotte Holmes even a little, it would be best for you to give her up and disappear.”

    As my vision was darkening at the absurd condition, Watson’s cold voice reached my ears.

    “And remember this.”

    “……….”

    “I will never fall victim to your games.”

    It was at that exact moment.

    – BANG!!!

    “Eek!?”

    The VIP hospital room door burst open, and a large woman entered.

    “……..”

    Suppressing the flustered nurses behind her with just a glance and emanating a chilling killing intent as she entered the room.

    “So.”

    She was also someone I knew well.

    “Which one of you is Holmes?”

    The culprit from “The Adventure of the Speckled Band,” Mrs. Grace Roylott, was looking back and forth between Watson and me with gleaming eyes.

    .

    .

    .

    .

    .

    An aggressive outfit that didn’t match 19th century London at all.

    A tyrannical and beautiful appearance like an Amazon queen, proudly displaying tanned skin and well-defined muscles.

    “I won’t ask twice.”

    With gaiters on her legs and a whip used for hunting horses in her hand, she asked again with a voice full of killing intent.

    “Which one of you two is Sharlotte Holmes…”

    Then, with a cold smile, Mrs. Roylott took a step forward.

    “No, never mind. There’s only one woman here.”

    “Y-you… what are you…”

    As Watson backed away sweating from the overwhelming atmosphere.

    “It’s me.”

    Adler raised his hand and said with a smile.

    “I am Sharlotte Holmes.”

    “…You look like a man no matter how I look at you.”

    “I was quite frail when I was young. My parents gave me a female name to try to twist fate.”

    After finishing that explanation, Adler whispered in a low voice to Watson.

    “My assistant, Watson. I’m sorry, but please step outside for a moment.”

    “…What.”

    “Since she’s a guest looking for me, I’d like to talk to her alone.”

    After considering his smooth words for a moment, Watson noticed his quiet gesture to send a telegram and stepped outside with cold sweat.

    “”…………..””

    A deep silence began between Mrs. Roylott and Adler.

    – SLAP!!

    “Tell me now.”

    What broke that silence was Mrs. Roylott’s murmur after she struck Adler’s cheek with all her might.

    “Where is my daughter now.”

    Despite the sound of someone taking a deep breath behind the door at that sudden action, Roylott grabbed Adler’s collar and asked the question.

    “Do you mean Miss Helen Stoner who caused a knife disturbance on the street a few days ago?”

    “What did she tell you?”

    “She said the weather has gotten quite cold lately.”

    “Are you trying to dodge the question?”

    A brief battle of nerves ensued between the two.

    “…Ugh.”

    “Holmes, you London police lapdog.”

    The tension escalated as Mrs. Roylott, who had grabbed Adler’s collar, climbed onto the bed and began to strangle him.

    “Urgh…..”

    Just as Adler was about to lose consciousness on the bed.

    – Crackle…

    “…Hmm?”

    Gray letters began to appear on Mrs. Roylott’s hand.

    [He is not Holmes, Roylott.]

    “…Hmm.”

    After staring intently at the message that seemed to have been written quite urgently despite its neat handwriting, she released her hand from Adler’s neck with a deflated expression.

    “I’ve wasted my time.”

    Then, rotating her wrist, she got off the bed.

    “Are you Holmes’s colleague?”

    “………..”

    “Then, tell her.”

    At that moment, a message appeared before Adler’s eyes.

    “To stay out of this…”

    “…This isn’t good.”

    “What?”

    After checking that message, Adler tilted his head with a serious expression.

    “You, when someone is talking…!”

    “Madam.”

    Just as Mrs. Roylott was about to explode with anger that she had been holding back at Adler, who had been making such an expression for a while.

    “I have a request.”

    Suddenly, Adler sat up in bed with gleaming eyes.

    “What…”

    – Crackle…

    As she tilted her head at the sight, Mrs. Roylott’s eyes widened as Adler’s eyes began to turn red.

    “…Please make me part of your collection.”

    Adler, revealing himself as a pureblood Vampire, was gently swishing his tail as he whispered.

    .

    .

    .

    .

    .

    > Rachel Watson…

    > Sharlotte Holmes…

    > Professor Moriarty…

    After finishing my statement at great risk, numerous messages began to appear before my eyes.

    [Plausibility Warning!]

    [The case of “The Speckled Band” has significantly reduced plausibility!]

    But at this crucial moment when the fate of the world hung in the balance, there was no time to pay attention to such messages.

    [If plausibility is not secured, the world’s erosion rate will increase!]

    [Current case progress: 56%]

    [Erosion rate: 5%]

    In this world, an increase in the “erosion rate” is quite fatal.

    That’s why in the current situation where my plans have gone completely awry after being unconscious for days just from a knife wound, I have no choice but to forcibly intervene in the case.

    “…Vampire?”

    “A pureblood one at that.”

    And the method is to become part of Mrs. Roylott’s collection.

    Having inherited some settings from the original work, she is London’s greatest collector and trainer of rare animals and magical beasts, who goes crazy at the sight of them.

    Seeing my true form would drive her crazy.

    “What are you plotting?”

    So as I diligently swished my tail, she asked with heat in her eyes.

    “I’m in a dangerous situation in many ways.”

    Her eyes, which had gently lifted my chin, trembled at those words.

    “…So, I’d like you to raise me without anyone knowing.”

    As I finished speaking, gray and black letters began to appear on my palm, making it tingle.

    “Alright.”

    But there was no time to shift my gaze there.

    – Click…

    Mrs. Roylott, who had taken out a speckled collar from the travel bag she had brought, whispered as she carefully put it around my neck.

    “Get into the bag.”

    “……Yes.”

    Feeling her tanned mana spreading around my neck, I entered the bag.

    “……..?”

    As the zipper closed and the light began to fade, I blankly stared and then quietly tilted my head.

    [Probability of being ??: 10%]

    What could this be?


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