Chapter 15 Let's just say this is a kind of public welfare.

"My dear brother." Mycroft Holmes let himself sink deeply into the easy chair, holding an exquisite walnut pipe. This is his study in the club. The walls are all tall bookcases, which contain all kinds of books. He always arranges his living place comfortably.

"You look very bad. It seems that the little girl is really not easy to deal with." Mycroft said leisurely, "So is there anything I can do to help you?"

"I am your brother. If you want any help, I will certainly do my best." His eyes looked at the micro-expression on his brother's face, and then his face darkened. "Of course, I guess, it may be some kind of trouble that seems to be useless even if I do my best."

Sherlock Holmes picked up the towel and wiped the water drops on his face vigorously. He saw his eyes red from vomiting and exhaustion in the mirror. He felt very nauseous, and the feeling of nausea kept lingering on his body, making him almost unable to stand, so he rushed into the bathroom again.

Sometimes he really admired Watson, he was naturally compassionate and rarely thought too much about things, so he could really treat the girl as they said, just as a young girl who was inexperienced in the world and carried a heavy fate.

This was certainly not Watson's fault.

In fact, it was not Luna's fault either. For a creature with such power, Luna's nature could be said to be quite good.

She had no obligation to be responsible for her own life.

It was just that he had thought that when he faced such a choice, he would not feel such pressure and fear.

"I've warned you," Mycroft's voice came from outside, "don't try to understand their common sense."

"Don't reason based on their common sense. It's not good for your spirit." The brother's voice sounded calm, but there seemed to be some emotion hidden under the water. "Of course I didn't expect you to listen."

"But I guess those so-called kings didn't force you to make a choice, right?" Mycroft said, "I'm not going to say anything more, but you probably didn't come here to find a place where you can pollute the toilet as much as you want." Holmes

held the edge of the sink, watching the water droplets fall into the white pool and then flow into the sewer. Where will it appear next, the Thames or the sea.

"Or should I find a doctor for you first?" asked Mycroft. Then he heard his brother's slightly hoarse voice, and the gray-eyed man twisted the water tap with his slender fingers, "I'm afraid the doctor can't do anything about it."

"So," Mycroft sat up straight, "can we start discussing it?"

"If I'm not mistaken," he said, picked up a piece of chocolate, broke off a piece, and handed it to his brother, "you knew her nature before the girl?"

"Yeah." Holmes nodded, "It seems that we can also infer why I walked into the white fog and why she met me."

"It was all arranged by those kings." Mycroft lowered his eyes, "Really?"

"Can you test your guess?" he asked.

"Now there is a good opportunity." Holmes said. He lit a cigarette, took a puff, and leaned on the sofa. Except for the messy wet hair sticking to his pale skin, he seemed to have returned to normal. "Grand Duke Duby, if my inference is correct, when I know his purpose, he will also know my purpose. I just need to find him and then determine whether he has obtained my information to verify its authenticity."

"You are really familiar with their rules too quickly." Mycroft said, "This is not safe."

"Of course, it seems meaningless to talk about safety now." Mycroft said, hiding himself in the shadows and concealing the expression on his face. "As far as I know, the pentagram represents instability and aggression in semiotics, and the hexagram represents harmony and stability."

Mycroft took out a deck of tarot cards from his pocket, which he got from somewhere, took out a card and handed it to his brother. "Is this the answer?"

Holmes turned the card over. On the card was a girl with light golden hair in a white dress blowing a horn made of flowers. A crescent moon hung under the light blue sky, and under her feet, countless small light golden shadows followed her walking on the sea.

"Judgment." Holmes read out the word above, "I don't think this is right."

"And the next card is the World." Mycroft said slowly, "Thirteen kings, six are light in nature, and six are dark."

"The remaining one is Luna." Mycroft said, taking a puff of cigarette, "Is that so?"

"She told a story today." Holmes said, he raised his hand to take a puff of cigarette, closing his eyes slightly, "Do you remember the stories our grandmother told us when we were young?"

"Goblins, fairies in the lake, utopia?" Mycroft asked, "I remember you didn't have much interest in it at the time, you didn't try to find four-leaf clovers, goblins' gifts, mushroom barriers or Pan's labyrinth in the mountains like our neighbors' children."

"She said that for thousands of years, they have been hoping to return to their hometown." Holmes said briefly.

Of course, Mycroft understood the weight of this sentence. "Did she say anything else, like the road would be full of flowers?"

Holmes nodded. "Yes, she was repeating those bedtime stories."

"It must be something more than those bedtime stories." Mycroft said.

"Thirteen kings are on the throne at the same time, and use thirteen keys to open the final door." Holmes replied, "Another thing is that if the nature exceeds existence, it will be classified into that world."

"My dear brother," Mycroft broke off another piece of chocolate, the cross section was very uneven, "I'm afraid these things can't be attributed to the police."

"Did she say what would happen next?" Mycroft asked.

"It will be put into a bronze coffin, waiting for the illusory resurrection." Holmes said, the cigarette in his hand burned out, turned into snow-white ash, fell on the carpet, and dissolved with the dust.

"This is a trap." Mycroft raised a finger. "They use human curiosity to find someone who can help Luna, and then this person will be sealed forever, or even erased from human common sense, becoming an existence that may have really existed or may just be the protagonist of a story."

"Humanity's understanding of him will be stripped of reality and attributed to fiction." Mycroft spit out a few words. "They preserved the mystery and returned to their long-missed hometown."

"I said, they have lived too long," Mycroft. "In addition to taking advantage of their own nature, they have also reached the level of perfection in taking advantage of humans."

Holmes nodded. "Time is really a good thing."

He half leaned on the armrest of the sofa, quietly looking at the patterns on the ceiling. He raised one hand to cover his eyes. The collar of his shirt was undone by several buttons, revealing his fragile neck. He tilted his head back and finally let out a breath. "Luna is the end."

"The new moon represents time, and the rabbit represents reproduction." He whispered, "The end also means the beginning, so the crescent moon, which symbolizes war and bloodshed, and the rabbit, which symbolizes spring and reproduction, appear on the same person. The pentagram, which represents aggression, and the hexagram, which represents stability, also appear on her body at the same time."

"That's my inference," he said. "When I stared at her, I felt like I was looking at the unfathomable death and the ever-changing future at the same time."

"And her current understanding of herself may still be examining and peeping, and as a result, she doesn't have the second level of ability at this level, so she is not the reigning king, and can't do what they want with them." Holmes analyzed. Mycroft didn't answer, but continued to break the chocolate and crush it into semi-melted, unbreakable pieces.

"In the legend, the end is always associated with judgment, that is, the girl must be able to distinguish between guilt and innocence." Holmes said, "But she doesn't seem to have this ability now."

Mycroft nodded, "Then the problem is very simple now, right?"

"Do you want to continue?" he asked.

Sherlock Holmes closed his eyes silently.

He was 28 years old this year, and it was a bit too early to talk about being forced to stare at death and the end.

Time is indeed a good thing. He has indeed witnessed how these creatures with endless years can easily make humans think they are shrewd and unfathomable.

But being young also has its advantages.

For example, there is still enthusiasm in the heart.

"Actually, I am mentally prepared." Mycroft's voice came faintly from the other side, "When you started tracking down James Moriarty, I thought there was about a 60% chance that you would be killed by him."

"60%?" Sherlock Holmes said.

"Well, you have about a 70% chance of him annihilating his army, but he has a 90% chance of letting you die, so after combining them, it's probably about 60%." Mycroft said, not knowing what mathematical principle he used, "But you said at that time that you would continue to investigate."

"So now you won't die before Moriarty, will you?" Mycroft moved his body, "Although as your dear brother, it's not impossible for me to inherit your unfinished business."

"Or?" Mycroft's eyes turned, "You want to take Luna to visit James Moriarty's empire?" "

After all, such a deep darkness can really open the eyes of that little girl and broaden her horizons." Mycroft said, "Then the probability of your death before the age of 30 will increase to 99%. "

"Your mathematics and I don't have much in common." Holmes said simply.

"That's really a pity, I have always been very confident in my mathematics." Mycroft said, refilling his pipe, "Don't you think so?"

"Then can we talk about how I survived the 1%?" Holmes asked.

Mycroft raised an eyebrow.

"Besides logic, there are miracles in the world," he said. "For the sake of rigor, I have to take this into account."

Holmes smiled briefly.

"Okay, your mathematics is still a science," he said, taking a piece of ravaged chocolate.

"What kind of creature do you think Luna is?" Mycroft asked, "Is her soul strong enough to bear the name of the end?"

Holmes took a bite of chocolate, "I think it's probably not enough."

"Otherwise, she wouldn't have died repeatedly and been called unstable." He said, "Luna is really just a little girl now, and her thoughts and abilities have nothing to do with maturity."

"But there is one thing," he raised a finger, "She has an absolute awareness of her own destiny."

"Even if she knows subconsciously and instinctively that she will be shattered and destroyed, she will only take this path, because this is her duty," Holmes said slowly, "and her mission."

She was born as an emperor, and the raging waters of the seven seas could not wash away the holy oil on her head that she was appointed by heaven. She firmly believed this, so no matter whether she could do it or not, she would only rush to that mission and that ending.

Even if she was destroyed, her nature would be reborn, and she would repeat this moth-to-flame.

Until one day, she could bring all her subjects back to their long-lost and unforgettable hometown.

To some extent, this perseverance and awareness are the most important things for the King of the End, which are more important than the superficial qualities such as being able to distinguish right from wrong and being able to create life.

She was born only to respond to this wish, she was born for the instinct of all creatures to die, she was born for the instinct of all creatures to survive, so no matter how many times she was destroyed, no matter how short and fragile her life was, she would always carry her golden shackles and continue on this road.

Until the moment when a miracle is born, perhaps only one percent or one thousandth of a percent.

So what Half said may be right, she is the best among us and the strongest among us.

What a sad and brilliant life this is.

"But she has no choice, you can choose." Mycroft said, taking a puff of cigarette quietly, "Since she is such a savior who always fails, do you want to believe in her?"

"I don't believe in her." Holmes replied, "It can be regarded as a kind of public welfare."