The Great Demon Holmes

Chapter 8: The Study of Blood Character (3)

In just a few minutes, Sherlock found the clues that the constables hadn't discovered all day. Although he had his area of expertise, his efficiency seemed unusually fast.

"Perhaps what the Commissioner of the London Police Headquarters said is true. There's only him who can solve this case within 24 hours," Catherine reluctantly thought, but she didn't voice her thoughts. Instead, she focused on the matter at hand and asked, "YES? What does it represent?"

"I don't know," Sherlock stood up. "But I can sense that this word holds significant meaning for the killer. Also..." He paused for a moment, then walked to the other side of the corpse, bringing his face close to the space between the legs of the body.

To be honest, the posture seemed somewhat indecent, but Minister Bader, for once, didn't interrupt with any comment.

"Why were all the organs cut into pieces, yet the uterus remains intact?" Sherlock asked.

"Perhaps it's the killer's habit," Catherine said casually.

"No," Sherlock immediately dismissed her suggestion. "This killer is a serial murderer who has already brutally killed more than a dozen women in the Lower City. Such skillful knife work is rare. In the previous cases, the killer removed all the organs, including the uterus. This time, however, they deliberately left it intact while cutting the rest of the organs into four pieces... Furthermore, this killer doesn't usually take the victims' clothes."

Tsk tsk... Why did they change their habits when dealing with this lady?" Sherlock murmured to himself.

Observing his intrigued expression, Catherine quickly voiced a question that everyone present had. "You... seem to be quite familiar with this killer?"

"Because I have been following their activities," Sherlock said matter-of-factly. "This is what I do. I have some knowledge about all the murderers listed in the wanted notices. If things had gone normally, I would have started working on their case in four months."

"...," Catherine was momentarily speechless, even though his explanation made sense.

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"Well... What are you planning to do next?" she asked.

Sherlock put his hands in the pockets of his overcoat. "The killer is fixated on '4'," he began. "They inexplicably preserved the uterus. They took the victim's clothes. And the word 'YES' carved on the organs..."

He started slowly pacing in place, muttering under his breath.

This continued for a while.

Suddenly, he reached out and vigorously rubbed his neck and shoulders. "The best next step is for me to go home and get some sleep."

"....??" Everyone around was momentarily stunned.

Even the elderly priest, who had been emitting light snores in the distance, slightly opened his eyes.

"Go home... and sleep?" Minister Bader's tone finally showed a hint of fluctuation.

In the commoners' perception, the Executors of the Tribunal were generally emotionless enforcers, synonymous with bloody purges and brutal torture.

They were allowed to have marriages, although this was most likely a means to continue their noble bloodlines. However, even so, Sherlock couldn't ignore the identity of the victim in this murder case.

Because Minister Bader, the person before him, undoubtedly had feelings for his wife. Whether this feeling was possessiveness over his private property or something else didn't matter.

After all, his wife had been cut into pieces and strewn all over the place. And at this moment, Sherlock said he wanted to go home and sleep?!

"Watch your words! This is disrespectful to the clergy!" The young constable at the mouth of the alley almost immediately shouted in a low voice.

There was nothing he could do. It was his duty, to be a loyal, angry hound eager to display devout faith, or perhaps to be cannon fodder.

However, without receiving orders from his superiors, he could only stand at the mouth of the alley, seething with anger, afraid to step a foot inside.

Sherlock inclined slightly in a nonchalant manner. "Apologies, Minister. I have no intention of offending the clergy, yourself, or your late wife. It's simply that I no longer have a reason to stay here."

"What do you mean?" Compared to the taciturn Minister Bader, Catherine was undoubtedly the more communicative one.

"I mean that I have already examined the crime scene... Staying here any longer would be a waste of time. It's better to return to my familiar apartment and allow myself some comfortable solitude. It will aid my thinking process." Sherlock pointed to his temple with his index finger.

Catherine's brow furrowed. She understood the concept of a comfortable environment aiding in thinking, but...

"You have examined the crime scene already?"

"Of course," Sherlock replied. "My observational skills regarding crime scenes are quite good. I have observed every detail here. Um... for example, I can deduce that the killer is approximately 190 centimeters tall, male, with a sturdy physique. They come from an affluent background, are ambidextrous, have a high sex drive, and spent their childhood in the town of Rochester, enduring various unfair treatments or torment. They have a strong sense of revenge. They are strict with themselves but arrogant, enjoying the act of killing. They like to eat raw beef, reside in a large residence, possibly a mansion, adorned with numerous portraits. The interior decoration is exquisite, and they have a hobby of raising livestock. They have minimal body hair, prefer to wear tight-fitting cotton clothing, and have an old injury on their right rib..."

He spoke faster and faster, until the constable's suppressed growl erupted, "Commoner! You... You cannot spout nonsense in front of the clergy! You have no piety!"

No one stopped the constable's anger because, whether it was Catherine, Minister Bader, or the elderly priest, they all felt that... this detective was simply blabbering nonsense.

It made sense to deduce the killer's physical characteristics and personality traits based on the method of dismemberment, blood splatter patterns, and other such details.

But to deduce what the killer liked to eat, where they lived, what they wore, and even an old injury? Something just didn't add up.

Besides, you've only been standing in this place for half an hour.

Sherlock chuckled knowingly. He had anticipated this. Of course, he had no intention of explaining himself. However, judging from the situation, if he didn't clarify matters, he wouldn't be able to leave this place today.