[Zhongyingmei] Love wife crazy demon

At the end of the 19th century, the air in London, England, could hardly be called fresh. The pollution caused by industrialization made this ancient city shrouded in fog for many years.The harm to human health caused by this polluted smog was already worrying at that time, but no matter how terrible the damage to health was, it was definitely not as good as another smog that was secretly spreading underground in London—opium Smoke mist.Even the boss of the opium den sometimes feels that the air in his own territory is too dirty, so he goes outside to breathe in the smog.

The Indian ran an opium den in Swan Gate Lane, and the business was very big.From upstairs to underground, there are a total of four floors of the building, enough to accommodate hundreds of people at the same time.The further down the room, the darker and more crowded, the basement could be called a den.He had just returned from the outside tonight, with a pistol in his waist and a dagger in his arms, and he went up the stairs quietly.Although he was the owner of an opium den, he never tried the stuff that brought him huge sums of money, and instead, like many of his countrymen, he was addicted to chewing tobacco.By the time he got to the second floor, he spat out a mouthful of the juice and rushed into his living room-office to find his always-full glass.

But he was surprised to find that there was a person sitting on his sofa, a man in a suit and leather shoes and a short coat that he had never seen before.The Indian stopped involuntarily, pulled out his gun vigilantly, spat out the tobacco residue in his mouth, and said in a vague voice, "Who is your Excellency?"

"I think even in this era, you may have heard my name." The man sat on the sofa, facing the black hole of the gun, but his attitude was still leisurely, "James Moriarty."

The Indian had a vague recollection that he seemed to have indeed heard the name, from some underworld figure whom he awed.He tilted his gun slightly, looked behind him, and was still vigilant: "Who sent you here?"

"I always come and go whenever I want, and no one can stop me." Moriarty raised his hand, but he felt like laughing.He couldn't help laughing every time he spoke, not only because his accent automatically changed to a pure British accent in this world, but also because Tony left a place for him when he created the world.

"Why don't you sit down and talk, sir?"

-

After defeating Ultron, Tony did not wake up because of this, but was affected by the ability of the Mind Stone and fell into a dream created by himself.Because he was still wearing the vest of the Rubik's Cube, Moriarty couldn't enter Tony's dream, and with the help of Banner, he managed to separate part of his consciousness and came here.

Although the problem to be solved was very serious, after coming to this world, Moriarty has always been in a happy mood.The dream created by Tony is almost exactly the same as the one he experienced, except that there is no past where they met and loved each other, Professor Moriarty and Tony in this world are pure enemies, other aspects can be said to be a tacit understanding.Therefore, he quickly integrated into this world and found a part that could be used.Borrowing the identity of "Professor Moriarty of Mathematics", he easily obtained some resources from some people, and after a few days of observation, he came to this opium den.

In this world, Tony is the great detective Sherlock Holmes, who is in the prime of his life and already has quite a reputation.John Watson no longer lived with him, having married and moved elsewhere with his wife.During the few days when Moriarty entered the dreamland, Tony just accepted a new commission and temporarily disappeared from 221B Baker Street.It was after inquiring about the content of the commission that Moriarty came here, planning to take the opportunity to do something.

——He knows that Tony has no memory of reality now, just like his original condition.The face now meant nothing more than an enemy to Tony, and Moriarty had to undo the impression the Mind Stone had made of him and reawaken his memory.

As for the case itself, Moriarty was actually quite interested.Tony's client was a young married woman, Mrs. St. Clair of Lee.She and her husband, Mr. Neville St. Clair, had been married some years before, and there had been a close relationship between them, and they had two children.Although unemployed, Mr. St. Clair has always been affluent, with investments in several companies.A few days ago, he claimed to be in London on business, and promised to bring back a box of building blocks to his youngest son. However, on that day, he was dragged away by his wife who happened to be in the city, and his whereabouts are still unknown.

It was on the third floor of the opium den in Swan Gate Lane that Mrs. St. Clair saw her husband being dragged away.Realizing that something had happened to her husband, she rushed into the opium den, but was stopped by Indians and failed to go up to the third floor.When she searched the house with patrols later, her husband had disappeared, only a cripple who was used to begging on the streets of London was in the room, and there were some traces of murder.The toys that Mr. St. Clair promised to bring back to his son were on the table, and there were bloodstains on the window sill. Behind a curtain, his complete set of clothes was found, ranging from coats to socks and watches. Only one piece was missing. The jacket, which was later also found after the high tide, was full of heavy coins.

If it were in the 21st century, such a case would not be difficult to solve. As long as fingerprints and footprints are measured, combined with surveillance video, even if you don’t know where Mr. St. Clair went, you can guess who the murderer is.But now is the nineteenth century when technology is not so advanced. Due to the limitation of investigative methods, Moriarty and Tony can only solve this case by pure reasoning.This increased difficulty made Moriarty very interested. He was also collecting clues, and even went to the prison to see the beggar who was suspected of murder.He didn't come to this opium den until he had a guess in his mind, and sat in this room only a few floors away from Tony, who was also investigating the case.

"What advice do you have for me, Professor Moriarty?" The Indian said with a thick accent, and did not follow his suggestion to sit down, his eyes still full of vigilance, "I heard that people like you People here are dedicated to advising the big guys, and it's rare for someone like me to just hear your name."

"—I came here for one of my enemies." Moriarty was not worried that he would reject him, with a leisurely expression, "Perhaps you have heard of his name, Sherlock Holmes..." The name made him want to laugh again, wondering what Tony's expression would be when he regained his memory, "According to the information I got, he is planning to cause trouble for you."

The Indian's vigilance was slightly lowered: "I have indeed heard of his name, a famous detective in the city of London. But why did he come to trouble me? If you are referring to the case of Mr. St. Clair , I think no matter how capable he is, he will have to return empty-handed in the end.”

"Don't talk too early, Amir." Moriarty smiled. "Do you think this case is difficult?"

The Indian held back his anger: "I thank you for your kindness, Mr. Professor, no matter what, you reminded me that if there is a chance, I would like to help you with something. But I think I have the ability to deal with this kind of thing , even if you are a detective, if you don't get accurate clues, you will fail in your reasoning. Those policemen are all rich and rich, and Mrs. St. Clair is a weak woman. They don't remember too much. I have carefully cleaned the upstairs room, and now you can even openly invite Mr. Holmes to come in to investigate the case..."

Moriarty shook his finger: "Be careful, Amir, what if someone hears your confession? You haven't confirmed my identity yet. You're wrong about one thing. It doesn't take much to solve this case." It’s not necessary to go to the scene to check... More clues may not be better, how to find useful parts from the clues is the most important thing. Isn’t Mr. St. Clair the murderer who caused him to disappear?”

The Indian couldn't help taking a step back, and when he realized what he was talking about, his face immediately turned ugly: "...I don't understand what you mean, professor."

"I can deduce this, and Mr. Holmes can." Moriarty shook his head and sighed, "Even if you don't go to check the scene, just based on the information published in the newspaper, there are too many doubts... When Mrs. St. Clair witnessed her husband being dragged away, Mr. St. Clair was dressed normally except for the lack of collar and tie around his neck. From Mrs. St. Clair's discovery of her husband to the time when she finally broke into the house with the police, there was only one Less than 10 minutes passed. If Mr. St. Clair was indeed dragged away and killed against his will, as his wife said, how could it be wrong for a young, strong, able-bodied man like him But the clothes he took off were undamaged, and there was no trace of fighting in the room except the blood on the window sill. Why did Hugh Boone, who was suspected of committing a crime, kill Mr. St. Clair? Their status was very different, their lives The environment is also very different, and it is impossible for the intersection to happen. The only possible reason seems to be for money. But Hugh Boone, as a beggar in the city of London, may not easily commit murder for small money. In the shirt that sank into the water What was found was also a large number of scattered small coins, which were obviously the income of his begging... Was it really murder that happened in that room in just a quarter of an hour?"

"—Then, maybe they conspired, and Mr. St. Clair had some secrets that he didn't want his wife to know, so he begged him to hide himself." The Indian said cunningly, "It's also possible."

"What secrets can there be between a respectable gentleman and a dirty, ugly beggar in an opium den?" Moriarty retorted. "That house was Hugh Boone's own dwelling, not opium smoking. Mr. St. Clair has never had such a bad habit when smoking. It can be said that the only secrets that he does not want his wife to know are almost only lovers. This escape? He doesn't rely on his father-in-law for food, and Mrs. St. Clair is even weaker. There is no special relationship between him and Hugh Boone. Even if he wants to choose a lover of the same sex, he must choose a good-looking Only those who can see it... from the time Mrs. St. Clair was stopped by you for the first time to when she came back with the patrol, there was only two or three minutes. This time may not be enough for Mr. St. Clair to change his clothes and sneak away Downstairs. If he escaped along the river bank, why are there no footprints on the river bank? If he jumped into the water, it was high tide at the time..."

The Indian was tongue-tied: "...Maybe he just died, the body was washed away by the river..."

"—Maybe—he—was—was—dead—" Moriarty repeated the sentence after drawing out his voice, "If he was thrown into the water after death, it is impossible for him to die in the house." There was no sign of struggle or struggle, only voluntary, and if he jumped into the water voluntarily, to avoid being discovered, why did you and Mr. Hugh Boone bother to hide it, preferring to let him jump into the water? Hugh Boone was imprisoned as a murderer on his back? How deep is the friendship between you and Mr. St. Clair that you are willing to risk this step for him? You have to pay for your life, Hugh Boone What's the secret between you and St. Clair?"

Cold sweat broke out on the Indian's forehead: "I don't know, I don't even know that Mr. St. Clair has been here, maybe you should ask Hugh Boone himself..."

"You visited Hugh Boone last night, and you sent a letter to Mrs. St. Clair today, reporting Mr. St. Clair's safety." Moriarty shook his legs slightly and raised his eyebrows, "You Don't you think that's weird, Amer? The only thing that can convince Mrs. St. Clair that her husband is alive is her own handwriting. How can Hugh Boone do that? Why is he in prison? To decide for Mr. St. Clair?—unless there was only one person in that room all the time... Hugh Boone, another version of Mr. St. Clair."

Cold sweat has soaked the back of the Indian.He dropped the gun, turned and closed the door.

"It seems that I can only ask for your help now, Professor..." He said in a low voice, his expression has become obedient, "I can't let people think that my place is not secret enough, and Hugh Boone promised to give me a lot of money for this." I have a lot of money... I am willing to help you deal with Holmes, all you need is an order."

Moriarty laughed.

"Then how about we go and see Mr. Hugh Boone tonight?"