Operation Red Book

The train swayed from side to side, and the window curtains swayed with the train.

Flashing past the window were chimneys emitting billowing black smoke, row after row, each one tall and straight.

The sky was filled with black smoke, not even a hint of color could be seen. A river full of sewage separated the train from the rows of chimneys.

Steamboats of all sizes passed slowly by, and even the waves they created were jet black.

In the long and narrow aisle of the carriage, Ivy followed Holmes and kept looking out the window.

Every time she looked at it, she was deeply shocked by the scenes that had only appeared in textbooks and movies before, but every time she looked at it, her inner anxiety increased.

There were so many things happening one after another, and no one could believe it.

She pinched her hand quietly, and the intense stinging sensation made her realize more clearly: it was London in 1881, many mysterious things were happening, and she was in a lot of trouble.

Ivy and Holmes walked through two carriages and arrived at the dining car.

The dining car was crowded at this time. Men, women, young and old gathered together, talking to each other about what had just happened. The whole car was full of chatter and it was very lively.

The group of people saw that Holmes had not stopped talking yet, but when they saw Ivy behind him, they gradually lowered their voices, looking Ivy up and down with curious eyes while talking to the people around them.

"Ladies and gentlemen, is Mr. Matthew here?"

Holmes stood still, still with his hands in his pockets, his body swaying unconsciously back and forth.

Seeing that people were looking at each other and no one answered, he deliberately raised his voice.

"Mr. Matthew, Viscount Dalton's servant! Mr. Matthew, the first person to discover the scene! Is he here?"

"it's me."

A sharp and hoarse reply broke out from the noise.

A short figure appeared in the crowd. He was wearing a loose coarse cotton coat and a pair of tattered cloth shoes hanging on his feet.

His face was covered with wrinkles of varying sizes, and he had very few hairs on his head, which hung down randomly.

His eyes were bulging like a frog's. At first glance, they seemed dull and chaotic, but upon closer inspection, they contained a bit of cunning and ferocity.

He hunched his back, bent his legs, and moved slowly towards Holmes.

"Mr. Matthew, the conductor asks you to cooperate with the questioning. Please come with me."

Holmes changed his frivolous attitude, pushed Ivy behind him, and gestured to Matthew to come in.

Matthew walked forward step by step. Holmes told Ivy to wait there for a while and then followed closely behind Matthew.

"She looks like a street whore!"

After watching the two figures walk away for a long time, Ivy was about to raise her foot when a contemptuous middle-aged male voice like thunder silenced the entire car.

Ivy turned around, her mouth twitching and her almond-shaped eyes widened.

She stared at the bald man with his legs crossed. At this moment, the man was staring at Ivy's legs with lustful eyes and smacking his lips with ill intent.

"Excuse me?"

Ivy uttered these words from her throat, her voice terribly low.

"You are in the same room with a man and you are dressed so provocatively. You must have seduced him first."

The old woman next to her interrupted. She was half turned towards Ivy, raised her head proudly, and glanced at her sideways, her eyes full of disdain and disgust.

"Why would an Asian come to our country and kill people in our country? She should be hanged!"

A young man wearing a beret also spoke, his voice full of recklessness and complacency in his eyes.

Not only them, but everyone in the entire carriage looked at Ivy with strong curiosity and malicious speculation.

It seems that any little disturbance can bring the arrogance of the people of the "British Empire" to the maximum.

They slandered this foreigner with disdain to satisfy their curiosity and self-esteem.

Ivy was getting angry again. This had happened almost every day since she immigrated to Britain, and British society more than a hundred years ago was no exception.

Ivy suppressed her anger, straightened her body, raised her chin, and responded slowly:

"Isn't your queen a woman? If it was Her Majesty the Queen standing here, you would just be stroking your bald head and fantasizing about being a king."

Ivy slowly walked towards the bald man and sneered.

"I say, do you dare to say a bitch in front of the queen?"

Ivy turned to the haughty old woman again, bent down with her arms folded, stared straight at the old woman's face, and imitated the tone of the upper class.

"You should be ashamed of your ignorance ma'am, this is a school uniform that was personally decided by your head of state and is being followed across the UK.

So, you mean that all the students in this country are flirtatious?"

"You know who my dad is... Ouch! Ouch!"

"And you! British youth have really been the same for hundreds of years."

Ivy straightened up, walked towards the young man angrily, grabbed his ear, and ignored his screams of "Ouch, ouch".

"How do you spell the word respect? Ask your teacher. I don't care whose son you are. Even if a prince or princess comes today, you still have to be responsible for your rude words!"

After that, the bald man put on his bowler hat and silently lowered its brim. The old woman's chest was heaving violently due to anger, and the young man was red-faced, covering his ears and grinning.

Everyone else in the carriage also kept silent, and no one dared to look up at the little East Asian girl standing in the middle of the carriage.

This situation was exactly what Ivy had expected. She raised her chin even higher and raised the corners of her mouth proudly.

After looking out the window and then at the people in the car, she snorted and turned around and walked quickly towards the car where the incident occurred.

At the other end of the carriage, Moriarty watched the farce in the dining car with a grim face in the darkness.

His deep blue pupils emitted a cold light, and only when he saw Ivy happily skipping away did he slowly raise the corners of his mouth.

"This lady is a bit like him, just as unexpected."

Moriarty pondered and walked over.

The people in the carriage couldn't help but exclaim when they saw his hands behind his back.

It was a dark grey shoulder bag with large patches of blood on it. The bloodstains were jet black in colour and looked extremely horrifying.