Operation Red Book

The hustle and bustle in the Florence Welfare Home did not affect the underground, and the underground, which was full of secrets, remained extremely quiet.

Grace was still hanging in the air, she closed her eyes tightly, letting the soft white feathers fall on her body.

Ivy and the others stared at the dazzling beam of light in amazement. Holmes was also stunned by the scene before him and momentarily neglected Morris who was ready to make a move.

Morris slowed his breathing and concentrated his strength on his waist and legs. He rolled his eyes to confirm Holmes' condition.

"Drink!"

Morris shouted, pushed away Holmes's restraints with all his strength, and ran towards the nearest iron gate quickly with his calves.

When Holmes came to his senses, Morris had already run down the dissecting table.

"Damn it!"

Holmes swore under his breath and stretched out his long hand to grab Morris by the sleeve.

Unfortunately, the fabric on Morris' body was as slippery as soapy water and easily slipped out of his hands.

Holmes looked back at Ivy and the two children who were standing there in a daze, then turned around and quickly followed.

Morris twisted and turned in the corridor, passing through a door or knocking over a pile of glass jars.

Even so, Holmes gritted his teeth and followed closely behind Morris.

"Hahahaha!"

Morris grinned, and his sharp and piercing cry echoed in the small space, like a monkey wandering in the mountains.

Holmes's head was covered with sweat. He took out the pistol from his waist and raised it.

But just as he was preparing to shoot in the room, Morris slipped into a door and disappeared from Holmes' sight.

"Shit! Fuck!"

Holmes cursed through gritted teeth, but he still dared not relax and was always alert to his surroundings.

A flash of cold light appeared on the left, which was caught by Holmes' peripheral vision.

He quickly squatted down to avoid a cold scalpel.

The scalpel flew over his head and stabbed steadily into the wood in front of Holmes, and the handle was still trembling slightly.

"This is my territory, prepare to die!"

The strange, ghostly cries disappeared into the surrounding darkness, echoing back and forth.

Countless scalpels flew over from behind, each emitting a cold glow, and all flew towards Holmes.

"Dingling tangerine peel——"

Holmes turned sideways several times, deftly avoiding the attack of the scalpel.

After several rounds, several silver scalpels fell to the ground.

Holmes was already out of breath, and his body had some minor scars.

He pulled out the scalpel stuck in his shoulder and dodged the hidden weapon flying out of the darkness.

"It's not a solution to continue like this. It's too time-consuming."

Holmes raised a large piece of wood to block several silver knives, thinking secretly in his heart.

He calmed down, slowed his breathing, and focused.

The movements and sounds in the darkness were captured by his ears, and the determination of direction and prediction of movement gradually took shape in his mind.

"Got you!"

Holmes threw away the wooden board and kicked the scalpel flying in the air back.

After landing, he turned around on the spot, stepped onto a worn wooden stool, used the force to fly into the air, and kicked the other scalpel hard into the distance.

"Ah! Ah-"

There came a painful wail from the darkness on the right. Holmes patted his trouser legs triumphantly and said in a high-pitched voice:

"What do you mean your territory? I'm here and it's my territory."

There was another noise in the darkness, and a fat figure flew into a curtain. Seeing this, Holmes quickly followed.

Passing through curtain after curtain, the scene around him made Holmes dare not think too much.

He held his breath to block out the stench.

Morris slipped into a wooden door and locked it quickly with a "click".

When Holmes heard the clear sound of the lock being locked, his heart sank at first, but in the blink of an eye it became clear again.

He clenched his teeth, frowned, and stared at the wooden door not far away.

His hands swung wider and his feet moved faster, as he prepared to hit the wooden door that was just a few inches away with all his strength.

"Boom!" With a loud noise, the wooden door fell down.

Thick dust floated in the air, choking Holmes and causing him to cough a few times.

Holmes waved away the dust in front of his eyes, and in a daze he only saw Morris's fat body squeezed into the passage leading to the storage room.

"Hey! Don't run!"

Holmes' pupils tightened and he began to panic.

She rushed to the front of the passage in one step, but unfortunately Morris's feet had already sunk into the dark passage.

By the time Holmes leaned in, Morris had already escaped and was half the distance behind.

“Hiss, ha…”

The movement pulled the wound on his shoulder, and he flinched back in pain.

Holmes groaned and dragged himself weakly to sit on a chair beside him.

“Just run. I wonder if he can escape the snipers outside… ah! It hurts so much. What a lousy knife.”

Holmes frowned and touched the knife wound on his shoulder. The wound was very deep, cutting through the layers of flesh, and even the white bones inside could be seen.

"Strange, wasn't he shot as well? How come he ran faster than a rabbit?"

Holmes muttered to himself, taking out a cigarette and putting it in his mouth, thinking constantly about the bandage wrapped around Morris's arm.

"When he kidnapped that little girl, he used his left hand, right?"

Holmes's brows became more and more furrowed. He rummaged in his pockets but could not take out the box of matches.

"Shit! Mother fucking..."

Holmes spat the cigarette out of his mouth in annoyance.

The cigarette rolled to the ground, slipped into the darkness in the corner, and was stopped by a wooden box.

Holmes felt something strange and walked over to pick up the cigarettes and square box in the corner.

He felt around again and again in the dim light, and after confirming that the small box of cubes was made of matches, he became very excited for a moment.

But before he could put the cigarette back into his mouth, Holmes' smile suddenly froze on his face.

He fumbled with the matchbox in his hand again and again, and suddenly he was filled with questions:

"Matchbox? Morris's? He should be using a silver lighter to light his cigarette with that stinky aristocrat..."

Suddenly, a memory flashed through his mind like a bolt of lightning piercing the sky.

He ignored his physical fatigue and stood up suddenly.

"At lunch, the old nun asked me to borrow a match to light my cigarette. It was her, Ms. Maggie!"

The appearance of the old nun finally filled in the fragments in his mind.

The context gradually became clear in his mind, and the truth of the whole Florence incident finally surfaced.

“Hahahahaha! From beginning to end! She didn’t show up from beginning to end, not at all, hahahahaha!”

Holmes laughed wildly, his cheeks flushed, and he looked as if he would suffocate in the next moment.

Suddenly, gunshots were heard in the distance, and Holmes gradually stopped laughing.

He clenched the pistol at his waist and ran quickly towards the autopsy room.