Operation Red Book

Morris no longer cared about the pain of being burned by the flames. The countdown to death was long and short.

Torment, regret, pain and fear intertwined and finally broke out at the moment the fuse burned out.

"boom--"

A loud bang woke up the entire August Street, and the owner of the bakery on the street jumped out of his quilt in fright.

He smacked his lips twice sleepily, drank some cold water at the bedside, and turned over and lay down again.

Half a minute later, the bakery owner jumped out of bed in a hurry and rushed out without even changing out of his pajamas.

In August, many residents had gathered on the street. Some wore coats, and some wore only slippers. They all looked towards the end of the street.

The white roofs of Florence had disappeared, and from the street all that could be seen was thick billowing black smoke and some flickering orange-red flames.

The black smoke drifted high into the sky, forming a sharp contrast with the moon hanging in the sky and the pale, transparent clouds.

The residents stood in the street in shock for several seconds, and the store manager's lips had already turned blue.

Fireworks barrels exploded in his brain, and he seemed to understand something, but also seemed not to understand.

"Children!"

Not caring about anything else, the store manager roared in a deep voice and ran towards the welfare home at the end of the street crying all the way.

When the store manager ran over breathlessly, the Florence Orphanage had become a dark ruin.

The rubble was piled up together, and the police and some residents were taking turns delivering water to put out the fire.

"Sheriff—my children—Henry—they—ah—"

The store manager stopped a policeman with a gun, grabbed his hand and started howling like a ghost, and refused to listen no matter how the policeman explained.

His mustache drooped down, lifeless.

"Hey, listen to me first!"

The police were really helpless and slapped the store manager on the forehead, almost making him lose his balance.

The store manager blinked his moist eyes and looked at the policeman in front of him as if he had just woken up from a dream. The slap finally calmed the store manager down.

"The children are all there!"

The police pointed to a nearby Indian restaurant filled with sleeping children of all ages.

Some of the children were still sleeping soundly, while others were lying on their beds, rubbing their eyes blankly.

"Ah--kids--ah--thank you, Sheriff--"

The store manager hugged the policeman with tears of gratitude, and the mustache on his lips curled up again.

"It's all right, it's all right. We counted the number of people and all the children are here, except for the two children who ran out just before the explosion and were slightly injured."

"Mr. Holmes and a chaplain named Grace are with them."

The store manager jumped up from the sheriff's arms with a start, his eyes wide open, tears filling up at a speed visible to the naked eye.

"Over there, over there, the wounded are all over there!"

Fearing that the store manager would get emotional again, the police quickly pointed to the medical tent in the distance.

The store manager suppressed his overflowing emotions and gave the policeman a good hug.

He then ran towards the medical tent screaming ferociously, scaring the surrounding police officers so much that they pointed their guns at him.

"Wait, I know him, let him in."

Holmes appeared in time to stop the police officers from using violence and pulled the store manager, who was already in tears, into the tent.

Emily sobbed softly in Inspector Lestrade's arms. The wounded gathered in the middle, with two people lying on a simple stretcher:

One is Ivy with a bandage on her head, and the other is Henry with all the clothes on his back burned off.

Grace stood in the corner expressionlessly, without any emotion in her eyes.

"How can it be so—my little Henry—Miss Grace—how come you suddenly become so pretty, and won't you be near me?"

The store manager ran towards Grace in the corner crying, but when Grace ignored him, he turned around and hugged Emily and Inspector Lestrade.

"Ivy has some concussion and hasn't woken up yet. Henry has some burns on his back and hind legs. They will probably leave scars. He just took some painkillers and is now asleep."

Holmes held his forehead and sighed as he told the store manager about the situation at the scene.

"Everyone else got out in time. The culprits Morris and Aldridge had already died in the explosion. All the evidence at the scene was gone."

"Also, Joshua... Mr. John Watson failed to get out before the explosion. We don't know where he is now. Scotland Yard is doing its best to search for him wherever he may be..."

Holmes frowned and looked at the messy Florence Orphanage, and the gloom in his eyes became heavier.

"Ah—Mr. Watson—I just met you today—"

As soon as he finished speaking, the store manager rushed out of the medical tent, picked up a shovel beside him and rushed into the ruins filled with black smoke. The sounds of ghosts howling and wolves howling echoed throughout the ruins.

"All the sins are borne by me alone."

Grace spoke softly in the corner, her voice gentle but without any emotion.

She allowed the police to handcuff her with metal handcuffs, and walked into the carriage at the back with her head lowered and her back bent.

The children woke up from their sleep and finally realized the reality before them and started crying.

Groups of children were making so much noise that the inexperienced police officers on the scene were extremely busy.

Fortunately, there were enough residents of August Street who heard the news and came to take the initiative to take care of the children.

Some strong residents also took off their coats, picked up shovels and worked with the police to clear large pieces of rubble.

"Why don't you stop him? I told you to keep them by your side!"

Holmes dug the ruins angrily, shouting Joshua's name loudly, and also took the time to vent his anger on Inspector Lestrade.

"The children have become disobedient after being with you for too long." Inspector Lestrade retorted unconvinced.

"Mr. Watson—I have found you at last—you are still alive—"

A deep, long whistle rang out in the night sky like an air raid sirens. The policemen around dropped their shovels and ran towards the direction of the sound.

Holmes threw the shovel in his hand heavily to the ground and picked up a brick.

"This disobedient child, I need to find a harder weapon to smash him to death..."

Holmes pushed aside the circle of policemen and looked at the little gray man who was being held up by the store manager.

The little gray man's chest rose and fell, and he was still breathing faintly.

Joshua was lifted up by the people, and falling from him were dozens of envelopes and documents that could incriminate Morris.

Holmes chuckled and threw the brick away.

His gaze continued to fall, and it was not just the documents that Joshua was protecting.

At the bottom is a photo of Morris with the dignitaries, and on top is an old photo of four people.

The figure in a suit standing next to Morris looked somewhat familiar to Holmes.