Chapter 19 All mortals must die.

"Mortals." The platinum-haired girl seemed to be interested in this word. She chewed on it repeatedly. Holmes slightly tilted his eyes to look at the top of her head. He didn't know how to describe this girl.

After a while, she sighed softly.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"The policeman just now." Luna said, "It seems that he doesn't have the talent to be a detective."

"After all, he is young and inexperienced." Holmes replied, "He still needs to grow and experience. If it's for now, he is indeed not competent."

"He is about 22 years old now. In six years, will he be as good as you?" Luna raised his head and asked.

Holmes laughed.

He knew the answer to this question very well, and he was not the kind of person who liked to coax children like Dr. Watson.

"For humans, mediocrity also has its place." Holmes said, he raised his hand and pointed at the passers-by, "Most people are mediocre, so this world exists."

This principle was not easy for Luna to understand. She turned her head and saw a brightly lit pub, and the sign at the door was painted with a mouth-watering caramel muffin advertisement.

Luna stopped, looked at the muffins on it, and then looked at the window.

The bar was crowded with people who were getting off work.

"I want to try this." Luna raised a slender finger and poked the billboard at the door, then raised her head and looked at the gray-eyed man with expectation. Holmes looked at the door of the pub, thought for a moment, and pushed the door open.

Because it was a bar in the center of London, it was not as chaotic as a country pub, and there were no drunks causing trouble, but there was a certain atmosphere, a dull, sad, gray atmosphere that no one was willing to talk.

The pianist seemed to be sleepy, playing a not very cheerful song by himself.

Luna looked at the piano. She was very interested in these black and white blocks. She raised her hand and pressed a few scattered noises beside it.

The pianist raised his sleepy eyes and looked at her.

"Who brought such a young girl to the bar?" He couldn't help asking.

"Are the pancakes outside still being made?" The gray-eyed man stood in front of the bar and asked.

"It's being made," said the bartender. "It seems that the lady wanted it, so would you like a glass of wine too?"

All eyes seemed to be lively, as if a different note had finally appeared in life.

The girl was being watched by everyone, but she didn't show any shyness or discomfort, as if she was pretentious and felt that she should be the center of attention wherever she went. She just looked at the piano and the bouquet of lavender in the vase on it.

The pianist felt that the girl was very unhappy with the bouquet of flowers.

Then her eyes fell on the pianist.

She looked at him carefully.

Then she stretched out her hand and pressed twice on the keys provocatively.

The pianist moved aside. He didn't want to argue with such an unknown customer. "Miss, do you want to try this?"

However, to his surprise, the platinum-haired girl nodded and sat on the piano stool.

She stared at the lavender for a while, trying her best to resist the urge to turn them into ashes, and decided to ignore them.

Then her fingers were placed on the keys. She tilted her head slightly, as if she was thinking about something, and then she began to strike the keys, accurately playing the whole song he had just played.

"It doesn't seem to be very difficult." The girl said seriously, "So you have been doing this kind of thing all the time, and it seems that you don't have any unique talent for this thing. Why do you still play the piano every day?"

The pianist laughed, and he lowered his head to look at his fingers. "If I had talent in this area, I wouldn't play the piano in the tavern, I would go to the Golden Hall, with a whole band accompanying me, and thousands of listeners applauding me."

"You know you can't do it well, why do you still do it?" Luna asked.

The young male human looked at her face and seemed to find her question funny. He smiled and thought about the wording, "Because the tavern also needs a pianist."

The pancakes were quickly made and placed in a paper box. Luna held the paper box and smelled the fragrance coming out of the gap. She turned her head and looked at the tavern that was gradually getting farther away and the faint music coming out of it.

"The tavern also needs a pianist." She said, "So humans need a lot of mediocre people?"

"Actually, you can also change the word," the gray-eyed man said, "You can also call them the people."

They are a gray ocean, without outstanding talents, but they have the greatest power.

This is the cornerstone of humanity.

Luna nodded, "I see."

"So the police station needs a lot of police officers like Douglas, is that right?" she asked.

"Maybe the miracle is among them." Holmes said, "Jack the Ripper is said to have committed crimes for ten years, and they have been tracking this case all the time."

"What if they die?" Luna asked.

"The newcomers in the police station will continue to track down the murderer." Holmes replied.

"So there will always be new people?" Luna asked.

"Because humans reproduce," Holmes replied. "Children are not equal to parents. Humans are not constantly reborn in nature, so they reproduce."

"New humans will be created," Holmes said.

Luna was silent for a while. "It sounds amazing." She grabbed a muffin and put it in her mouth, chewing it carefully, not leaving any crumbs.

"So why is it called caramel?" she asked, "Isn't it sweet too?"

"Caramel is made by pouring liquor on sugar and then burning it. Compared with sugar, it still has more flavor." Holmes said, he always knew the details of these human societies.

Luna tasted the taste in his mouth carefully, and then nodded, "It does have more things than sugar."

Holmes looked around unnoticed. Jack the Ripper might have followed them to investigate, but so far, they have not been followed, and he can't quickly decide whether this is good news or bad news.

The two walked along the street, finally turned a familiar corner and returned to their residence.

"Mr. Holmes," Mrs. Harson said, "a police officer is waiting for you in the living room."

"Okay, thank you, I see." The gray-eyed man put down his hat, but when he walked up the stairs, he suddenly stopped at the door.

Luna leaned against the crack of the door seriously, and when she was about to speak, the gray-eyed man pressed her shoulder, so she closed her mouth.

Of course she smelled it.

It was the smell of blood.

There was no sound of heartbeat in the room, nor was there any sense of soul.

This meant that if the police officer was still in the room, he was probably a corpse.

Holmes gently took out the key and slowly unlocked the door.

Sure enough, under the light, Officer Douglas fell to the floor, and the window was wide open. The curtains were blown by the fine evening rain, not yet wet, and fluttering gently.

"He is no longer here." Luna said softly, "There is no one else here."

Holmes' mind flashed through several speculations. He walked quickly to the side of the body, reached out and touched the officer's neck, and found that there was indeed no pulse.

But where he fell to the ground, Holmes looked around the living room. He would definitely not stand in front of the desk waiting for him to come back. This was too rude, but it didn't seem like he was avoiding the other party's attack.

His eyes fell on the desk, and then he found the answer.

The only photo of him in the whole house was turned over and put on the table at some point, and there was a heavy sweaty fingerprint on the back of the frame.

The last thing Officer Douglas did before he died was to come to the desk and put the only photo of Sherlock Holmes in the whole house on the table.

The meaning behind this action is clear at a glance.

Jack the Ripper came to 221b in a hurry to kill Sherlock Holmes, but he had never seen this man before, so Douglas chose to hide the photo and let him mistakenly believe that he was the owner of this room.

Let him think that he had killed the guardian of the survivor who had just reported the case.

And his coming here also shows one thing.

He can see the information of the police station.

Whether it is stolen by weird means or he has unknown good friends in the police station.

In short, all the actions of the police are also under his control.

Luna squatted down and looked at the young man lying on the ground. She reached out and gently pulled down his eyelids, making him close his eyes, looking much more peaceful and calm.

"He doesn't have the talent to be a qualified police officer." Luna said softly, "So he died young?"

"Because he is a qualified police officer, he died young." The man with gray eyes said lightly, Luna raised his heterochromatic eyes and tried to digest the cause and effect.

She thought for a while and successfully figured out his determination and meaning in exchange for his death. The girl lowered her head and looked at the young man lying on the ground.

"Is that so?" She said softly. This was the first time she faced death directly. She looked at the empty body without a soul and pondered, trying to find out what meaning it had.

"Frey said that all mortals must die, and all mortals must serve." Luna said softly, "So he overcame death for what he served?"

Before Holmes could explain anything, the girl let out a breath and looked at the young man's body solemnly, "So, this talentless mediocre man is the hero in human legend?"