Superintendent Lestrade disliked Sherlock Holmes.
In addition to the two reasons mentioned before, there were, of course, a third, a fourth… and many more points that followed.
Even after the detective caught the murderer who had raped and killed the Superintendent's daughter, and proceeded to skin the man alive in front of him, Lestrade still hated Sherlock.
This was because the Superintendent could clearly sense that this man was not catching criminals for the sake of justice—he wasn't even doing it for the money.
Whenever Sherlock came to "deliver the goods," he habitually left the criminals in an indescribable condition.
While criminals had no human rights, they couldn't be allowed to simply die in prison, and they certainly couldn't be displayed on the execution grounds in such a horrific state that it would 'disturb the public mind.'
Dealing with such messes cost a lot of money, which significantly reduced the bounty Sherlock received each time.
But he continued to do it with relish!
Lestrade seriously suspected that Sherlock was catching criminals for the purpose of venting, amusement, or some other disreputable reason.
"If it weren't for the tiny bit of gratitude my daughter's soul might hold for you, I'd have listed you as the most heinous criminal long ago!" the Superintendent cursed, suppressing his anger.
Sherlock smiled nonchalantly: "Come now, you know perfectly well how many troublesome criminals I've dealt with for you over the years. Plus, you can't put me in the same category as criminals.
I've never violated Imperial Law—at least, you've never found any evidence."
Lestrade was choked with fury because he was right!
Indeed, there was no evidence that Sherlock had ever committed a crime. Yet, the Superintendent knew in his heart that this man was absolutely the most terrifying and wicked criminal! What he did was definitely more monstrous than all the death-row inmates locked in the underground cells combined!
But frustratingly, no one knew what he was truly after!
No one knew where he came from, his age, his past experiences, or even if the name [Sherlock Holmes] was real.
They only knew he claimed to be a detective, living in a small rented room on Baker Street.
Every so often, he would show up at the police station with that large, blood-soaked leather valise, exchanging the terribly unlucky criminal inside for a meager bounty.
That was all.
And if you asked him what he did on a daily basis, or questions about his ideals, goals, or why he became a detective, he would simply shrug with a matter-of-fact attitude and reply with a smile:
"Life is too dull. I just don't want my mind to rust, and I might as well find some fun while I'm at it."
A few more minutes passed in silence. Lestrade didn't ask any more questions, knowing the scoundrel before him wouldn't elaborate.
It wasn't until the Blue Tune cigarette was almost burned down.
Clip-clop clip-clop clip-clop~
A sequence of footsteps suddenly echoed in the corridor outside the reception room, growing nearer.
Superintendent Lestrade and Sherlock looked over simultaneously. Following the sound, a tall nun and a small, stooped old man appeared at the entrance of the reception room.
It was Miss Katherine and the Worshipful Priest.
Lestrade immediately stood up and respectfully gave a slight bow.
Sherlock, however… remained seated.
His gaze fell upon the modified, form-fitting nun's habit, as if he recognized it.
"Let's go, Mr. Holmes." Katherine ignored his cold and disrespectful attitude in the presence of Church officials, lifting her chin to meet his eyes. "…Time waits for no one."
The sunset light pierced through the gaps in the carriage window. The dust motes floating in the air looked like bizarre microscopic organisms, making one instinctively want to hold their breath.
Sherlock sat in the carriage, with thick woolen blankets beneath his feet and seat.
He never expected to travel in a Church carriage this way, and even less did he expect the nun he had encountered earlier to hold such an elevated position.
Looking out the window, the crowded square was still filled with people.
This was the Lower District.
As far as the eye could see, there were porters carrying wooden crates, barefooted newsboys shouting loudly, and a few scantily-clad women in the alleys beside the tavern.
Their business must not be good this month, or they wouldn't be soliciting customers this early.
The carriage axles were equipped with shock-absorbing technology, making the ride incredibly smooth.
Along the way, after passing several district checkpoints and gigantic cog-driven lift-gates, the noise gradually faded, and the convoy arrived at the Upper District.
The streets became wide and flat, and the architecture on both sides was solemn and orderly. Intricate metal pipes clung to the walls like carefully trimmed ivy, glistening in the weak, setting sunlight.
About half an hour later, just as the sun completely vanished, the gaslights flickered on, and the carriage finally stopped.
The night air was a little cold. Sherlock, slightly sleepy, stepped down from the carriage.
In front of him was a clean little street. Perhaps because it had already been locked down, there were no pedestrians around, only security guards patrolling in steam armor.
The heavy metal clanking against the flagstone pavement muffled the occasional hiss of high-pressure steam venting.
"Officer!"
Upon seeing the carriage, a security officer quickly rushed over. His mechanical arm was clasped in a fist over his left breast, and he half-knelt before Katherine.
This was the mandatory gesture of respect from a Church subordinate to their superior. However, the steam armor was so thick that even kneeling, he was still considerably taller than Katherine.
"Worshipful Priest."
He then respectfully saluted the thin old man who had just descended from the carriage. But in that brief moment, his gaze unintentionally crossed over the old Priest's shoulder and caught sight of Sherlock behind him.
The gaslight overhead cast Sherlock's shadow exceptionally long, and at that very moment, Sherlock took out a cigarette and lit it.
The security officer's eyes nearly popped out!
Even with his superior right there, he couldn't help but bellow:
"NO SMOKING HERE!!!"
——————
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