Operation Red Book

The London train station in the evening has a stronger smell of burning coal than in the early morning.

The horrific murder that happened that morning was covered up completely by Scotland Yard. I don't know what method they used, but people who walked out of the station all claimed that it was just a defected spy who took the hostages.

This matter was just regarded as an after-dinner chat among Londoners, and it passed with laughter.

The train station, which was still on emergency alert in the morning, resumed operations after noon. By the evening, only a few pedestrians were left in the train station.

In the darkness on the far left side of the platform, Moriarty was sitting with his legs crossed, a stack of parchment lying on his crossed leg.

His brows were furrowed, and he kept muttering to himself, using only a charcoal pencil to quickly write formulas, draw diagrams and calculate on the parchment.

When he had filled a piece of paper, he would throw it at his feet. At this time, there were already a dozen parchments filled with mathematical calculations around him.

"This sir? This sir?"

The platform cleaner shouted several times with a broom in his hand, and then waved his hand in front of Moriarty's eyes, which woke him up from the mathematical formulas.

Moriarty looked up at the cleaner, his eyes were cloudy and lifeless, as if he had just woken up from a dream.

"Hmm..." Moriarty rubbed his brows and replied in a hoarse and sticky voice.

"Excuse me, what's the matter?"

"Sir, at noon today, you asked me to remind you before the last train arrives. Now the last train is about to arrive. You... these papers..."

The cleaner reminded Moriarty to look at his feet, and Moriarty finally came to his senses.

"I can handle these myself, thank you and please.

Moriarty gave the cleaner a few pennies and lowered his head to finish sorting the parchment.

After adjusting his clothes and hair style, he stood quietly waiting at the platform with his hands behind his back.

After a while, a steam train came towards the platform with a puff of gas. Most of the people getting off the train were middle-aged people wearing tall hats and ladies in gorgeous clothes.

They all looked tired, but still refused to lower their proud heads or bend their stiff spines.

As the passengers arrived, the train station became noisy again.

The shouts of the newspaper boy, the murmurs of the flower girl, the scolding of the old housekeeper, the laughter of the drunkard...

Moriarty waited quietly in the darkness. The noisy noise made his brows furrow and his eyes lightly closed, but the corners of his lips were not affected at all, and they were still raised in a polite arc.

When the noise gradually faded away, two figures slowly walked out of the car door in front of Moriarty.

"James, it's pretty noisy, isn't it?"

The mocking tone made Moriarty open his eyes suddenly, revealing a pair of emerald green eyes shining in the darkness, followed by short dark brown hair and a fair face with a slight smile.

The corners of Moriarty's mouth rose higher, and there was an obvious smile in his eyes.

He replied: "Isn't it? But there is no way, you came down too late, Count Vincent Waite."

"Sorry, it is my fault."

After hugging each other, Earl Waite stood in front of Moriarty. He was taller than Moriarty.

"Thank you for waiting, but I don't know why this train is so late."

"I just happened to experience making your train late, and it was a very interesting thing."

"Oh! Then I must listen attentively... Come to my mansion for tea. I have your favorite Chinese tea."

"Mr. Waite, I have told you many times that I don't like tea."

Moriarty tilted his head and spoke behind Count Waite.

"Sean, just keep it the same as always."

Count Waite smiled and turned sideways, and said gently to the figure behind him: "Sean, when you go back, take out the bottle of wine that the Duchess sent."

A short figure slowly walked out of the darkness behind him.

His figure and features were no different from those of an eight-year-old child, but his serious expression and cold eyes were inconsistent with this angelic face.

He was carrying a suitcase half the size of his body in one hand, and he exuded a gloomy temperament.

Every speck of dust around him told everyone to stay away. But when he spoke, he spoke in a childish voice: "As you command, Lord Earl."

A few miles away, outside 221-B Baker Street, Ivy and Joshua stood by at a loss.

Holmes in front of me was banging on the door and shouting loudly.

"Mrs. Hudson! Mrs. Hudson! Open the door and let's talk! Just talk!"

This farce had been going on for more than ten minutes, and passers-by were no longer surprised.

Joshua also heard a rumor: "He was kicked out by Mrs. Hudson again..."

Holmes punched the door a few more times, and the whole door shook twice.

The door suddenly opened, and an angry old woman with silver hair came out. It seemed that this was Holmes's landlord, Mrs. Hudson.

"Has the old man been executed?"

"Not yet, my dear lady, but I swear..."

Before the smiling Holmes could finish, Mrs. Hudson slammed the door shut again, almost hitting Holmes' nose.

Holmes continued to knock on the door vigorously. Ivy rubbed her tired legs, pushed Holmes away, and knocked on the door gently.

She cried out with a slight sob: "Madam, could you please let us stay for one night? We have come all the way here and haven't eaten for a long time!"

After a while, the door opened again.

Mrs. Hudson still came out with an angry face, but when she saw Ivy standing obediently at the door, her anger dissipated visibly, and she put on a kind smile in an instant.

She lifted up Ivy's cold hands and asked softly, "Where are you from?"

Holmes found the right moment, grabbed Joshua who was still confused, and pushed Ivy and Mrs. Hudson into the house.

In the warm living room, the fire in the fireplace is burning brightly.

Holmes squatted in front of the fireplace adding firewood. Ivy and Joshua sat on the sofa, each covering their legs with a thick red blanket.

Mrs. Hudson brought out two cups of hot cocoa, handed them to the two men, picked up the shawl on the chair and sat on the bench opposite.

Mrs. Hudson looked at the two of them with eyes full of pity. She asked softly, "Where are you children from?"

Ivy took a sip of hot cocoa, smacked her lips, and said, "My name is Ivy, his name is Joshua, we are children of a reconstituted family, and we originally lived in Manchester.

Our parents moved to New York a few years ago and we haven't had any contact since.

A few months ago, our grandmother passed away and our uncles kicked us out, so we had to come to London to seek help from our distant relatives.

Ivy glanced at Holmes who was picking up firewood: "That's him, Uncle Sherlock."

Holmes jumped up and turned around to retort.

Seeing Ivy's suggestive look, he tried to swallow the words in his throat, and had to lower his head with his hands behind his back: "Yes, these two little burdens came to me for help."

Mrs. Hudson glared at Holmes and said awkwardly, "Sherlock already owes me two months' rent. It's a question whether I can keep him."

"Mrs. Hudson! No, I've sent your husband to the toughest prison in Scotland, and you promised to give me free rent, didn't you?"

"My request is that he must be sentenced to death according to the law. He is still alive and well now!"

"There is too little evidence that your husband is trafficking drugs. I have tried my best to collect it. Even if you provide me with some other criminal evidence, such as murder, treason or something like that."

"What a mouth you men have! You promised it back then, but now you're going against your will! You men..."

The two of them argued until their faces turned red. Ivy and Joshua didn't know what to do for a moment. They both lowered their heads and sipped their fragrant hot cocoa.

When the two of them were tired of arguing and turned their backs to each other to catch their breath, Ivy carefully said to Mrs. Hudson, "Ma'am, can you please give me a few more days? Joshua and I will go out to find a job tomorrow and work together to pay your rent."

"You two, what can you two kids do?"

Mrs. Hudson looked at the two men anxiously.

"A boy so thin and frail can't even carry the load; a little girl with an oriental face...ah."

Ivy frowned, and Joshua took over the conversation:.

"Mrs. Hudson, please just give me these few days. If the rent is not paid in a week, we will leave on our own and not bother you anymore."

"By the way, Mrs. Hudson, you haven't had dinner yet, right? How about you sit down and I cook for you?"

As Ivy spoke, she stood up and took the shilling from Holmes' pocket. Before Mrs. Hudson could reply, she ran out, leaving the three people in the living room looking at each other in bewilderment...