Half an hour later, Sherlock returned to his apartment on Baker Street.

He didn't waste time stuffing the young man named Andrew into his suitcase, because he didn't have a suitcase with him today.

He didn't tie it up either, and dragged it to Scotland Yard because it was too far.

He just told the other party that when it was time to go to work tomorrow morning, he would pick the nearest police station, and then find a policeman who seemed to be smarter, and explain all the crimes during this time to others.

Then put on the attitude of 'kill or chop, you're welcome', and wait for a group of people to press you to the ground, and that's it!

Oh, and you'd better be good and don't make any moths out of it.

Otherwise, he will talk to you personally......

I have to say that Sherlock is quite good at talking in certain situations, which is not ...... After saying this, he separated from Andrew, believing that Andrew was a good boy and would not cause trouble for himself.

And Andrew really doesn't make any mess...... As he said before, he would rather face decades in prison, or even the death penalty, than face his contract demon again, and even more so the guy who called himself a detective.

Oh yes, that guy said something weird before;

Why did the demon flee back to hell...... Will it be better?

......

Opening the door to the apartment, Sherlock took off his coat and lay down comfortably on the couch.

Tentacles slowly crept out of the shadows of the room, like twisted snakes, clung along the armrests of the couch to Sherlock's shoulders, gently licking behind his ears.

He closed his eyes and stroked them with a slight smile, feeling the strange intimacy......

The last time in a dream, the little tentacles melted into his body, he found that those tentacles in the dream began to appear in the real world.

But not summoned through the Void Rift, but ...... A state of inexplicability.

They will crawl slowly out of some shadow, or faintly emerge in a corner with a faint outline, perhaps a flash of light, a frightened glimpse at the edge of the line of sight, but when you turn your head to look for it, you can't find anything.

In short, these little ones are like their own realm, beginning to overlap with the real world, but they are very arrogant and maintain a strange mystery, like to curl up out of sight, or wander in the shadows, entrenched, wriggling, waiting......

Sherlock looked up slowly, and a tentacle had rolled up a pillow and stuffed it into the gap between his neck and the couch, just right.

He twisted his body again, found the most comfortable position, and entered the dream with a faint smile on the corner of his mouth in the entrenchment of his tentacles.

......

The sand and scorching heat were as always, but probably because of being in the field, Sherlock didn't feel too uncomfortable.

He got up, stepped into the wind, and then looked up into the distance in the near-boiling scene around him.

That's where the steam train just passed in the real world.

Some tentacles crawled around him, and five carrion dogs stood with their heads held high not far away, waiting to be ordered.

Obviously, during the time that he was away, these little tentacles had parasitized a few more demons for themselves.

In the past, they were supposed to only be able to carry an upper limit of two, so in the process of continuous hatching and splitting, these little ones are also slowly growing...... It's just that they seem to have a cute obsession with carrion dogs, and they don't know when they get tired of it, so they will try to parasitize other kinds of demons.

The demon corpse on the ground had been completely devoured by the tentacles at this time, making the whole street look less chaotic, but there were still a lot of tentacles crawling, like living steam pipes.

Sherlock stretched lazily, then prepared to leave for the direction of the train.

But he had only taken a few steps......

"Huh?"

He was stunned for a moment, because in his thoughts, he still seemed to feel that something was going on.

Following this feeling, he slowly turned his head and looked at the corner of a collapsed building, and then he was a little surprised...... Saw a horse!

A horse with a pitch-black body.

This pitch black doesn't describe the color of the hair, but rather it's a bit like it's been roasted in a fire for years, completely carbonized, but still strangely retains its proper shape.

The eyes and four hooves were always glowing with faint sparks after the wood was ignited, and from time to time some cracks could be seen on the body, and a trace of flame light appeared in them, and the tail was like a silk thread of ashes that had gathered up and down, swinging gently, scattering fine dust, and then being swept away by the wind.

At this moment the horse stood alone, scraping the ground with his forelegs, occasionally snorting and spewing out a puff of smoke.

And what surprised Sherlock even more was the horse's back....... There was even a carriage pulled.

Forehead...... It turned out to be a horse-drawn carriage, the kind that can be found everywhere in the streets and alleys of London, except that the carriage has been infected with the blood of hell, and the whole has a feeling of corruption and rust.

Sherlock was pleased.

After the last time the tentacles fused with themselves, all the tentacles in the entire realm had established some kind of strange connection with themselves, at least they were no longer just crawling around on instinct, but could sense their own thoughts and needs.

Whether it's lighting a cigarette for yourself or getting this carriage, you can reflect this.

After all, when the territory is bigger, you can't still walk with your legs every day, right?

What a sweet bunch.

So Sherlock walked to the carriage and sat down, and although the interior of the carriage was mostly weathered, it was very strong and sturdy, and began to run forward without a driver, like the legendary ghost carriage in the market.

And in the process of running, the tentacles on both sides of the road began to emerge from the cracks or shadows of the buildings, and they were clustered together, more and more, more and more densely, like a black tide with some kind of devouring attribute, accompanying the surroundings of the vehicle, rushing towards the direction that Sherlock had just looked at.

And it was at this time, in a long ruined street in Hell, that the Eye-Gouging Demon finally climbed down the weathered train viaduct.

It doesn't have much strength, it's not fast enough to be trampled off by Sherlock in the real world, and it's even more pitiful after losing the support of fear, having just finished this section of the road and almost exhausted all of its strength.

So, it found a small pile of rubble that was relatively safe, and was ready to hide in it and rest for a while.

But I'm just about to drill into it......

"Boom-boom-boom-"

In the distance, there was a dense roar!