The Great Demon Holmes

He tried waving his hand and silently recited the pronunciation, hoping to summon his contracted demon back.

However... there was no response at all.

It seemed that he couldn't open the void rift in the dream.

So there was no way. The window couldn't be opened, and he couldn't throw this little creature out. He couldn't move objects or stuff it into a teacup. He couldn't chew it in his mouth either, as it might cause a backlash and harm himself.

Thus, he could only let it roam freely in this dream room.

But suddenly... Sherlock seemed to have noticed something.

He stared at the spot where the worm crawled, squinting his eyes tighter and tighter, gradually moving two steps closer, fixating his gaze on the connection between the walls and the floor.

There... there was a very faint... color.

Sherlock swallowed a mouthful of saliva.

Today, his mind had already experienced a shock, but at this moment, he keenly felt that the second shock was about to come!

And this time, it seemed to be more powerful and grand than the first one!

The dream room, which had remained completely white for nearly thirty years, unexpectedly had a hint of color!!!!

He forcefully suppressed the shock in his heart and looked at the worm still crawling. Its fleshy body continued to move along the corner of the wall, probably not even knowing what it was doing, instinctively wriggling in one direction.

But wherever it crawled, the whiteness was wiped away.

That's right!

Wiped! Away!

It was as if the entire room had been covered with a layer of white dust, sealing off its original colors. However, this little worm acted like a small cloth, wiping away the white dust bit by bit!

The further the creature crawled, the longer the colored trail it left behind. Sherlock's breathing became heavier.

In this way, after hesitating for a long time, he finally bent down and lightly tapped the colored area with his finger.

It was the seam between the wall and the floor, where the edge of the wooden floor had a gap. Sherlock exerted a little force.

The floor material revealed a tiny gap when pressed.

This kind of floor couldn't withstand detailed scrutiny. It was obviously of poor quality, the kind that could easily swell when soaked in water. But in Sherlock's eyes, there was a momentary burst of ecstasy.

It moved!

The colored area, the white seal, was lifted?!

"Huh... Haha!!" He tilted his head and laughed, appearing somewhat erratic.

This space, which had remained unchanged for thirty years, unexpectedly moved like this!

Although he didn't know the reason, he couldn't help but start to imagine. If he waited a few more days and the worm crawled past the sofa, would the sofa become soft again?

If it crawled past the window, would he be able to see the scenery outside?

If it crawled past the door, would the door be able to be opened?

Could he finally leave?!

The more Sherlock thought about it, the more excited he became. He looked at his contracted demon again. The tiny worm was still crawling... Recalling the words of the old priest, it seemed that every person in hell had a contracted demon that matched them. This demon would accompany them for their entire life after the consecration ceremony.

So... was his contracted demon meant to unlock the seal of this room?

After unlocking it, what would he face?

These unknown puzzles made Sherlock's scalp itch and impatiently paced back and forth in the room. However, the little worm moved slowly at an infuriating pace, and Sherlock didn't dare to startle it. He was afraid that if he scared the creature, it would play dead on the ground, or worse, if he directly grabbed it, it would wipe everything like a cloth, which might backfire.

In this way, several hours passed. The little worm finally climbed up a wall and then crawled across the window!!

A two-centimeter-wide white mark on the window was also wiped away and began to turn transparent.

Sherlock almost lunged at the window in a 'pounce' motion, pressing his eyes against the transparent trace.

After thirty years...!

He finally saw the view outside the window!!

That view...

A boiling...

A bizarre... crimson... unimaginable London! It presented itself before his eyes!

Within his line of sight, everything was burning—houses, steam pipes, a distant church, and a bell tower that was almost reduced to ashes but still swung and boomed with a bronze bell. The mist in the air had turned into descending smoke and the streets were the same.

Everything was ruins and ashes, as if gigantic bloody scars were writhing madly, threatening to tear apart the entire London in a terrifying and chaotic manner.

However, amidst this burning madness, there were no flames... only a scarlet and eerie boiling...

Sherlock gazed in shock at this astonishing glimpse through the gap. Shock and excitement reverberated through his mind like an avalanche.

Then... he slowly shifted his gaze to the sky.

In an instant, the grand and terrifying sight of the blood-red London sky ferociously rushed into view!

A massive sun... at least, a terrifying celestial body burning like a sun! It crossed the endless cosmic void and descended upon this small city, like a setting sun, hanging upside down.

Within the scorching flames capable of incinerating everything, there were countless twisted tendrils, stirring the flames into viscous magma, causing nauseating limbs that stretched for billions of kilometers to writhe frantically.

Sherlock watched... watched...

Like an inexperienced youth seeing a fresh and pristine body for the first time, he experienced a glimpse of the strange world beyond the window, along with shock and excitement in his heart.

He remained motionless.

Stiff as a sculpture.

...

That night passed in this state of eager anticipation, restlessness, and the overwhelming shock of not knowing its significance.

The morning light raced along Baker Street and eventually broke through the window on the second floor of 221B, splashing onto Sherlock's face.

His eyelashes trembled slightly, and he quickly opened his eyes.

He vividly remembered the magnificent and bizarre scenes he witnessed throughout the night. What kind of dream did he have?

He recalled the old priest's explanation of the "Dream of Awakening" and couldn't help but realize... Did he truly dream of an entire world?!

He sat on the sofa, contemplating, but unsure of what he should contemplate. Hours passed until he finally exhaled a breath.

He glanced at the clock.

Then, he got up and straightened his wrinkled clothes.

Sherlock was sometimes a very rational person. Instead of indulging in baseless speculation, it was better to wait for his contracted demon to crawl through the entire room and unlock all the seals. It was estimated that he would gain new clues then...

During this break, Sherlock naturally had some of his own matters to attend to.

He had to report to a "Security Management Agency" jointly established by the government and the Church.

It was a new job arranged for him by the old priest. Apart from a more generous salary, the more important aspect was the opportunity to access cases that commoners could never touch, including several related to the Church.

As well known, the greater the power, the more rampant the evil, and naturally, there would be more thrilling mysteries.

Sherlock couldn't refuse this.

So, he approached the wall, opened his luggage, and took out a set of black woolen fabric overcoat with a standing collar. He also rummaged through a large package and found a round-brimmed hat, using force to smooth out the wrinkles on the edges...

This was the most formal set of clothes among his entire wardrobe. He rarely wore it when committing... ahem, when solving cases. Thus, it had never been stained with blood.

Finally, he remembered to shave his beard...

Sometimes, one must pay attention to appearances.

A few minutes later, in the mirror, his face, which usually appeared somewhat disheveled, surprisingly exuded an elegant charm of an old-fashioned British nobleman. Combined with the overcoat and the round hat, Sherlock was somewhat surprised. He felt that he no longer needed to spend money when gathering information from barmaids.

He pushed open the door and descended the stairs.

When passing by the ground floor, he put on a gentlemanly expression, contemplating whether to greet the landlord. As a new tenant, leaving a good impression on the landlord was extremely important.

Just as he was about to knock on the door...

"Meow~~~"

The unique cry of a young cat caught Sherlock's attention, and he turned his head to see a small kitten, probably only a month or two old, emerging from behind the staircase.

It had a calico pattern, its body not even the width of two palms, and its tail swayed lightly behind. This indicated that it wasn't afraid of people.

"Are you hungry?"

Sherlock crouched down and rubbed its head. The little kitten didn't avoid him but gently rubbed against his palm.

"I'm sorry, I don't have any food with me, but when I come back, I might bring you some."

He said...

Just then, the door beside him creaked... and opened. Sherlock, still crouching, turned his head sideways.

Then... he saw a pair of fuzzy slippers, followed by smooth legs, knee-length pajamas adorned with knitted teddy bears, and a pair of slender hands holding a small bowl filled with cat food.

His gaze moved upward, to not so full breasts, slender shoulders, and a fair neck.

Finally, his gaze rested on a... not unfamiliar face...