Watson looked at the girl in front of him. No, Nightingale has long since become a strong woman who can fight head-on.

In the past year or so, she has seen her change little by little, and her constantly honed state of mind has made her more and more silent, and she used to crouch down and cry because of the number on a casualty report, but now she can already put down the corpse in her arms, and resolutely rush to the other imperial soldiers who are still alive.

Never in the entire history of the Holy Saint has anyone saved so many lives like her.

But she never smiled again.

Maybe it's because she knows that Sherlock died for her, and that guy's life is like a thorn in her heart, making her sad and blame herself, but irreparable.

This time, however, Watson saw her smile.

Watson smiled too.

The whole barracks was filled with cheers.

He wanted to smoke a cigarette, but the eyes in his pocket had already been smoked in the past few days of imprisonment, he looked at Nightingale, who was still full of anger in the last second, but now he was laughing and crying into a tearful person, and he couldn't help but feel a lot of emotion in his heart, thinking that Sherlock was really a bastard, and he died without a word, and then after everyone got used to the world without him, the meteorite fell into everyone's sight like a meteorite.

Does he think it's handsome to pretend like this?

Well, this guy seems to have always been conceited, arrogant, pretending, and unreasonable.

The chains in their hands were tugged, and the ascetics and servants apparently felt that they had given Nightingale enough face, and they shouted to Watson to hurry up.

Watson didn't struggle, but followed the other party's pace with more interest, and said with a smile: "I hope you can do it lightly, if I die, it will be a big deal." ”

……

General Patton's direct orders enjoyed the highest standards of execution in the expeditionary force.

Regardless of consumption, regardless of supplies, they marched towards the gates of hell, in the sky, almost all the airships in the theater of operations were lifted into the air at the first time, all the soldiers gave up their post-war rest, and those war armors were almost not repaired, and they were all moved to the convoy again, in all directions, as if a sudden general attack had begun.

In General Patton's front office, a huge map of the expedition was unfurled, and the general, whose fame had resounded in the empire for nearly 30 years, but who had rarely set foot in his homeland, began to personally direct this massive rescue.

Sherlock is back!

He didn't die, but under the pursuit of the demon tide, no one can guarantee that he will always live.

All the reconnaissance airships were almost all gathered over the gates of hell, but there was no way to land, because no one dared to approach the huge black shadow, and they could only hope that the guy would hold on until the rescue force arrived.

There was some noise outside the door.

There was also the dull sound of something huge hitting the ground.

The door to General Patton's office was pushed open, and Baskerville stared at those plain cold and merciless eyes, suppressing the emotions in his heart:

"He's back?"

General Patton nodded with a serious expression.

"I'll pick him up!"

"Good!"

Extremely simple conversation, and in the next second, Baskerville rushed directly out of the command room, and in the heavy snow outside the door, a huge demon stood like a lighthouse in the sea.

A tiny figure leaped up, clinging to the massive body to the demon's shoulder, and then his hound stretched out his hands and hissed off the thick armor attached to his body, smashing them all to the ground, causing the entire camp to feel the vibration under their feet.

A gust of wind howled, and in an instant the Baskervilles had disappeared into the white snow.

"Assemble!"

Major General Ulysses walked out of his humble barracks with his spear.

In fact, before he walked out, his team of veterans was already ready to go at the door.

Compared with the integrated troops, even if his 100-odd people enjoy no matter how special the equipment ration is, it is impossible to compete with them in terms of combat power, but in the area of rapid marching, no team in the entire expeditionary force can catch up with them.

The route of attack into the direction of Hell's Gate has not yet been planned, so there needs to be a guide to lead the vast troops in the rear to take the fastest route through the snowy region that no one has ever set foot in.

This veteran corps is naturally the best candidate.

That's when it happened

"Take me!"

Nightingale appeared next to a chariot, and the old veteran looked at her, and without much words, she made a 'come up' gesture.

Then he said to the bespectacled old staff officer next to him: "I will tell the troops behind in a while, hurry up and don't lose it." ”

In the side hall of the Cathedral of the Holy Light in the holy city of Jerusalem, Moriarty sat on a chair, looking up at the moonlight in the sky, motionless, with a remote telegraph next to him, and the loudspeaker kept transmitting messages from the front-line reconnaissance airship, and some blurry photos were depicted by the telegraph with a black and white rubbing pen, but the face of the hateful guy who desperately ran away could still be seen in the picture.

With a bang, the door behind him was pushed open, and it slammed into the wall.

No one dares to slam the door in front of the pope today.

Probably with the exception of Her Highness the Holy Maiden.

Letitia. Mrs. Hudson hurried in, not interacting with the Pope at all, grabbing a few photographs on the table, panting and staring, not knowing whether it was anger or surprise.

"All the troops that can be called on have set off, and we can't do anything now but wait."

Moriarty seemed to understand the other party's mood and said lightly.

"But I'm a little puzzled as to how the news could suddenly be known to the London radio station, and now the whole city knows that the guy is still alive.

If the rescue operation fails, there will be no place for the military's face. ”

"The civilian radio station told me about it?" Mrs. Hudson was also stunned for a moment, she had just heard the news that the bastard had returned, how could a civilian radio station know so quickly?

But in the next second, she seemed to know who was doing it.

In this world, the only person who can get first-hand information from the military, can deal with the London government and civilian radio stations so quickly, and is so concerned about Sherlock's safety, is the only one left.

In a bar, soft music was flowing slowly, and Erin had a bottle of good wine in front of her, but she didn't seem to be in any mood to drink, just quietly looked at the cherry red liquid in the glass, not caring at all, this short period of alcohol volatilization was enough to feed a family of three for several months.

No one knows Erin's age, in fact, only she knows that she is 35 years old.

In the past few decades, it may be luck, or it may be that I really have some ability, anyway, I already have everything I want to have.

Money, connections, credibility, information networks, and this high-end bar throughout the empire.

A few years ago, the self-employed aristocratic scientist has now become the emperor of the empire, and the scientific research projects he has invested in have become an indispensable combat resource for human expeditions.

She knew she was an insatiable businessman, but at this point, she didn't know what else she could pursue.

So after having too much, I finally returned to the original and easiest problem.

I'm a woman, and she's quite old.

It's time to find a man, too.

Erin. Adler's way of finding a man is simple, and that is. Look at the right eye.

And she doesn't have to marry the man who sees the right eye, marriage is just a ridiculous act of tying two people together, but she must see the man in the right eye has himself in his heart, and she can never forget herself, even if she is lying in the same bed with someone, and what she thinks in her heart is 'It would be nice if the person lying next to her was Miss Irene.'" ’

It is useless to tie up a person's body.

What she wants must be the soul of the other party!

This outlandish idea may not be understood by most people, but Erin doesn't care what other people think.

"Miss, the radio stations of the Diocese of Midessa and the surrounding six districts have all been completed, as for the remaining radio stations that are not planned to be under the control of the government, they have all been bought, and 115 newspapers are printing the news of Mr. Sherlock's return overnight, I believe that tomorrow morning, this matter will be known to all the people of the Empire."

Erin nodded, finally picked up the glass and took a sip.

Since Sherlock's death, she seems to have lost the meaning of life, and she has already achieved material satisfaction, but the sudden death of a rare man who sees the right eye causes her heart to be empty all the time.

Sometimes, she even thinks that she should retire, find a small cottage by the sea, and live quietly like this.

It wasn't until the news of that guy reappeared that the old woman felt that it was indeed too early to retire now.

Now that he is back, then everyone needs to know about it, the military, the government, all the generals of the front-line expeditionary force are under the pressure of all the citizens of the empire.

Sherlock must be rescued, and nothing can happen.

She didn't care how much of a sensation it would cause, Sherlock had to come back anyway.

So, within a few hours, this news, which should have been confidential, spread to every corner of this world.

In a soul visualization device production base of the Institute of Life Sciences.

Catherine finished the first batch of facility safety reports, and finally sat down in her chair tiredly, rubbing her sour brows.

A cup of tea was brought to her.

At this time, drinking coffee can indeed cheer her up again, but after the momentum has passed, it will only bring more turbulent exhaustion.

Therefore, the secretary next to him understands his own needs very well.

In fact, in the past few years, he seems to have figured himself out.

"Looks like we're going to leave work a little earlier today." The burly secretary said softly: "I know a very good restaurant, ginger soup is particularly well boiled, and it is perfect for relieving fatigue." ”

Since the last dinner, the secretary always seemed to want to invite him, even though he had made it clear that everything he had to do with him was limited to work, but he still enjoyed it.

"Next month's building materials still need to be inspected, so I don't have time today." Catherine responded.

But what she didn't expect was

"I'm done with it."

“.” Catherine looked up and looked at each other with some surprise.

"Those are not simple reconciliation sheets, they are very tiring, so can you reward me for having dinner again?"

Catherine had no emotions.

In fact, she didn't know what she had been doing all this time, busy, exhausted every day, but she didn't have any joy in receiving the goods.

Sometimes she wondered if it was because Sherlock had died, which affected her mood, but she quickly realized that Sherlock had nothing to do with her from beginning to end, he was just a passerby in her life, and she definitely wouldn't like that kind of person.

I'm not young anymore, and it seems that I should try to fulfill my father's last wish, although I have never loved, and even have a good impression of anyone.

But isn't marriage just a situation?

"Okay."

Catherine replied.

Outside the window, the night breeze was still blowing, Catherine tightened the collar of her trench coat, and a newsboy on the street shook the newspaper in his hand, not knowing what he was shouting, and the traffic was whistling by, everything was so normal.

But suddenly, Catherine was stunned for a moment, and then she looked back, her ears seemed to have heard something, and she walked towards the newsboy behind her in disbelief.

"Miss Catherine?"

His male secretary looked a little puzzled, and then saw the woman of his dreams pick up a newspaper, as if he had seen something, and suddenly, he froze in the gorgeous lights around him.

This incredible return is spreading like an uncontrollable tsunami across all strata of the Empire.

But as the focus of everything, at this moment, he is still running wildly in the demon tide.

"There's a third-order one in front, fucking hide to the left, to the left!!" Sherlock yelled, "You seem to be a little slow!" ”

"Don't stand and talk without back pain! I've slept for more than a year, I haven't replenished any nutrients, and I've been running away with you for so long, do you think I have a nuclear reactor in my stomach, and I can never know that I'm tired? ”

"Nuclear reactors?" Sherlock frowned, as if he felt like he had heard the term in another world: "What is a nuclear reactor?" ”

"Huh? What? ”

"What you just said!"

"I didn't say it, you heard it wrong."

Crimson muttered, forcibly picking up some speed.

And just above their heads, some airships were still hovering, and the people above looked at the magnificent scene below, constantly shouting in their hearts: "Hurry up! Hurry up! ”

No one noticed that on one of the airships, which had arrived, were transporting small black boxes that were supposed to be destined for the place where the Light was laid.

And in these black boxes, there are rectangular black bricks, as if they suddenly received some signal, and they lit up one after another!

(End of chapter)