Then

"Huh."

Sherlock laughed suddenly, and then he didn't care about the extremely tense atmosphere at the moment, but said with a general happiness:

"I see, you also received a letter from the Ripper, right?"

Watson just stood there, no emotion was visible in his expression or tone, but he nodded calmly to the extreme.

He went so far as to admit Sherlock's conjecture:

"Yes, when I opened the door of this room just now, I found a letter by the door, I picked it up and put it in my pocket, you were still outside the door at the time, so I didn't see it, but other people should have seen it, but they didn't care.

Just now, when Ling and Hopkins were smoking outside, I took it out and read it.

To be honest, I know who the ripper is.

The old guy told me from the beginning that he used to be a very powerful character, he had killed a lot of people, and he was only good at killing people.

I just didn't expect that the killing he said turned out to be in this way.

And there is

The price he offered was really attractive. ”

He said lightly, and the scalpel in his hand spun lightly with his fingertips, and then landed lightly on Nightingale's shoulder.

It was only a few centimeters away from her jade-white neck.

Although the scalpel looked so thin and the blade was so narrow, no one could doubt that it could cut off Miss Nightingale's entire head in an instant.

But Watson obviously respected Nightingale to the point of almost kneeling down to worship just now, why did he suddenly have such a huge change after reading a letter?

Nightingale is the most beautiful person in the world, and Watson is a person who has an absolute pursuit of beauty.

And putting the knife on her shoulder, this is enough for Watson to apologize for his sins with death.

So. What was it about the letter that would have influenced him to this extent?

No one could have imagined.

Except for Sherlock.

In fact, Sherlock said just now that his evaluation of the Ripper is a person who has insight into people's hearts to the extreme.

Otherwise, this guy who has never appeared from beginning to end would not have been able to willingly degenerate so many people into hopeless murderers with the most ordinary letters.

Even a man like Hopkins can be seduced by him in the most delicate period of time and become a traitor who betrays his faith.

"Attractive price?

So. That old guy is going to teach you everything?

Make you the true inheritor of the Ripper? ”

Sherlock looked at Watson, and at the girl in front of him, but he didn't seem to care about the other party's life or death at all, he just said it very casually, and he didn't care at all about his words, which had frightened the people in the room to a certain extent.

In fact, most people, with the exception of Hopkins, don't fully understand the real horror of this sentence, but that doesn't stop them from making up countless jaw-dropping possibilities in their brains one by one.

Watson, on the other hand, hesitated, and there was a hint of struggle on his less emotional face, but finally, he nodded again.

Yes, for Watson, the only price that allowed him to put a knife on Nightingale's shoulder should be this

The letter said:

[As long as you kill Miss Nightingale, then you will become the next me.] 】

This sentence is a bit vague, but it is clearer!

Watson will or acquire the ability of a ripper, this ability may be by learning the killing skills possessed by the other party, or it may be by learning the other party's ability to perceive people's hearts, in short, Watson can be like him, hiding in the shadows, building a group of rippers throughout the empire, like a huge killer hive.

Although this sounds a little impossible, killing people also requires talent, how can you really learn when someone teaches you?

But unfortunately, Watson is also extremely good at killing

One day a year ago, Watson had a drink with Sherlock in a bar in Lower London.

It was the first time in his life that he confided in another person. He talked about his childhood, his experiences, how many people he had killed, what dreams he had, and his views on the world.

Although in Watson's opinion, he has always been just a small person, but his pursuit of beauty has always made him want to make this dirty world more beautiful.

A horse-drawn carriage of extreme luxury drove through the long street, and a refugee begging on the ground crawled on the side of the street.

A devout believer donated the month's wages to the church, and he tried to pray for the Holy Light to bless him and make his daughter's illness better, but he did not have the money to buy medicine for the girl.

Soldiers who have broken their legs on the battlefield return to their hometowns, but are left on the streets because they have no way to find work.

In the alley, the brave boy beat away a noble son who was raping, but the rescued girl cried and slapped her, because if she could conceive the other party's child, then her family could finally find a backer.

This kind of picture Watson often sees.

And these pictures. Not beautiful enough.

Watson, like Miss Nightingale, is a doctor, and doctors naturally have to treat diseases and save people, but a long, long time ago, Watson has discovered that the moment of smile that doctors bring to patients cannot make the world a better place, even if a person like Nightingale can bring hope to the entire empire, he can only use continuous travel to heal the wounds that the empire continues to heal and tear.

And this time the ripper incident reminded Watson once again of a letter that the old beggar had left for him when he was leaving, in the alley opposite his home.

The letter said. Only killing is the fastest way to change the world.

Oh, now it seems that this old beggar has had the habit of writing letters from the beginning.

In short, Watson didn't think there was any truth in this sentence at that time, but now, he really felt it, killing people. There's really a lot of magic.

Any sin, kill! It's gone! And the branches and leaves derived from sin will all wither and rot because of fear.

It's as simple as it gets, and it's as real as it gets.

So if you can really inherit the name of the ripper, build a perfect killer ecology, and plant it in every corner of the empire, then it should really be possible for this world to become more beautiful, at least, you can decide who can live and who should die.

And the key to this power is Miss Nightingale's life.

In fact, to this day, Watson still doesn't know why the old beggar killed Nightingale, let alone what he has done during this time, why he suddenly has to do so many things, and why he wrote a letter to himself at the last moment, ready to choose himself as his heir.

But none of that matters.

Because after everything is over, I will ask him personally.

The time came to 11:59.

Watson lowered his head and looked at Miss Nightingale in front of him, in fact, he didn't dare to look at the other party, let alone look at the other party's extremely beautiful eyes.

The most beautiful people in the world, and a more beautiful world, how to choose between the two, Watson can't find the answer, if from the perspective of the whole human being, it seems that a beautiful world is indeed more worthy of having, but Watson is not from the perspective of human beings, nor from the perspective of society, he is just from his own point of view.

That's why he was so entangled that he wondered if he used the life of the most beautiful person in the world to make the world a better place, and when that day came, how would he end his life to punish himself for the sins he had committed?

Well, that's all for later.

Because there were only 30 seconds left, Watson had already made his own decision in the time he had just made.

The knife in his hand began to move towards Miss Nightingale's neck.

"I'm sorry, please don't forgive me, beautiful Miss Nightingale." Watson said.

In this way, everything came so abruptly, as if in an oil painting, suddenly a color that did not belong here suddenly appeared, and the story shown on the canvas was pulled into an awkward and far-fetched direction.

Outside the door of 221B Baker Street, no one knew what was going on inside.

Because from beginning to end, less than three minutes have passed.

The old beggar didn't put up any resistance, he was covered in blood, and let the guards tie himself tightly with hemp rope, even though he was incapacitated in the first place, let alone shot at the moment.

And that's when .

Just listen to the muffled sound of "dong", the bell on the banks of the Thames rings far away and the sky over London.

This means 12 midnight and above.

All the soldiers seemed to be subconsciously stunned for a moment, because the time set by the ripper had arrived.

But nothing seems to have happened.

No one came to assassinate them, and no terrible demons suddenly appeared.

So, Miss Nightingale survived?

Should you cheer yourself?

Still, he should continue to hold on to his post until his boss comes out of the room and declares this hard-won victory.

People began to look at each other, a little dazed by the second strike of Big Ben.

Only the old beggar, who had just been tied, was left on the side of the road in great silence.

His only remaining eyes widened as he stared at the apartment at 221B Baker Street in the white light, as if he wanted to see through the walls to see what was going on inside.

I wanted to end the Ripper incident today, but it's too late, and I have to send it out in the morning tomorrow, and my brain is a little insufficient, so sleepy, I'm not going to accompany everyone, but! Tickets, please!

(End of chapter)