Operation Red Book

After saying this, Mycroft turned around and opened the door.

Moriarty stood at the door with a bottle of wine and two tall glasses in his hands, smiling.

"Two glasses." Mycroft glanced at Moriarty. "Aren't you going to buy me a drink?"

"Mr. Holmes's carriage is downstairs, and your coachman said you have exceeded your time limit," Moriarty replied calmly.

Mycroft turned his head to look at Holmes, then looked back at Moriarty deeply, and walked out without saying goodbye.

Moriarty turned and saluted to the leaving Mycroft, then walked into Holmes' room.

"Did you hear it?"

Holmes' head was buried in the thick quilt, and his voice was muffled.

"I heard everything. In fact, the bottle of wine was placed on the coffee table in the living room."

Moriarty opened the cork of the wine, and the purple-red wine flowed along the wall of the glass into the transparent tall wine glass.

He raised his hand to look at the wine in the tall glasses and placed one of them on Holmes' bedside table.

"I just don't understand, is this correct?" Holmes' voice came from under the quilt.

"There is no right or wrong in this world, only various desires and interests."

Moriarty shook the tall wine glass in his hand, and the purple-red liquid flowed smoothly down the glass.

The refreshing aroma of wine cunningly entered Moriarty's nose, making this wine fanatic instantly overjoyed.

“Then why do people want to go to heaven?”

Moriarty drank the wine in his hand.

"I'll leave this tall glass for you. I'll take the rest of the wine."

"You are so cunning, James. Didn't you say that this bottle of wine was prepared for me who was injured?"

Holmes crawled out from under the quilt, grabbed the wine beside him and drank it in one gulp.

There was still a smile on Moriarty's face, but one could clearly feel the anger emanating from him.

"This is a gift from Count Vincent Waite. It has a mellow taste and rich aroma. It would be a waste to give it to you. I'd better take it."

With that, Moriarty put on his brown coat and picked up the remaining wine and glasses.

Holmes reached out and grasped Moriarty's wrist, preventing him from leaving.

"You took the wine I gave you. As a British gentleman, you can't be so rude... James, how are you going to make it up to me?"

Moriarty looked at Holmes's raised eyebrows and smirk, and said in a gentle and calm voice: "How about I invite you to the ball hosted by Mrs. Emerson in two weeks."

"Why would I go there? It's boring. If I don't go, you can give me a compensation gift instead."

"I heard that the place where Mrs. Emerson held the ball was at McMillan Manor, where Mrs. Emerson's daughter was brutally murdered."

"Oh my god! Oh my god! I heard this rumor when I was a child..."

Holmes' eyes sparkled and he excitedly drew back the quilt.

He was about to get out of bed, but Moriarty quickly pushed him back onto the bed.

"You don't have to get out of bed to thank me. Just get some rest. I'm going to say goodbye to Mrs. Hudson."

Moriarty opened the door and was about to walk out when he suddenly stopped, looked back at Holmes, his tone still calm.

"Who says God is necessarily good, and who says the devil is necessarily evil? People want to go to heaven, but it is just a legend of mankind."