Chapter 44 But Don't Stare at the Stars for Too Long

"Stars are interesting." The professor stood on the podium and spoke eloquently.

"But don't stare at them for too long," James Moriarty said. "It will drive you crazy."

Holmes remembered that this was the answer Moriarty gave when someone asked him about his achievements in astronomy in his college days.

He had long discovered that the professor was quite interested in mysticism.

"A star is a burning ball of fire." James Moriarty drew a perfect circle on the blackboard. He could always draw beautiful circles with his freehand hand and then write on the blackboard with his other hand. Every time he demonstrated this skill for the first time, the students would always marvel.

Sherlock Holmes raised his gray eyes and looked at the abstract celestial body.

"The interior of a star is burning extremely hot," said Moriarty. "They are powerful and invincible, and are tyrants in their own kingdoms. However, they will go from birth to destruction. They will become huge fireballs, devour their own families, and then collapse into a poor white old man."

"The dazzling stars we see in the Hebrew morning are the death of a star." He said, "Everything that is born will perish."

"We are chased, cursed, and sighed by fate, and finally have no choice but to accept the ending."

He was lying, Holmes thought, but it was not completely a lie. He inexplicably felt that this professor was far from being as transparent and open-minded as he claimed.

Moreover, he seemed to regard the star as a life, and he lamented its life with nostalgia and attachment, but he did not feel any mourning for its death at the birth of Jesus.

Holmes could not be said to like mysticism, but he definitely did not like Professor Moriarty.

He stood in the huge and beautiful library of Cambridge, reaching out his hand to pull some magic books placed in the darkest corner. Since the booming of science, they have gradually been put aside because the monsters described in them are really absurd, and the principles have been explained more reasonably.

"Why do magic books use so many obscure symbols to replace obvious and simple things?" Holmes couldn't help but mutter to himself.

"Because the gods are watching." He heard a voice behind him. He turned around and saw Professor James Moriarty standing in the courtyard. He looked at the fallen leaves on the tree. "Because the gods are watching, they don't like humans to reveal their secrets."

"Do you think there are really gods?" Holmes closed the book and turned around.

"Of course there are," he smiled and looked at the young man opposite him, "Are you interested in them?"

The young man's gray eyes fell on his face, "Of course, no matter who hears that the gods can be discovered, they will not ignore this honor."

The professor stretched out a hand, "Then are you willing to join my research group?" He asked.

Holmes saw a ring on his finger. The ruby ​​was surrounded by flame-like gold, forming the shape of a sun.

"What are you studying?" he asked.

"To get mankind out of the current stage." Moriarty showed a gentle smile. "Don't you think that our current stage is dirty and cruel? There are layers of slums under the bridge, and there is misery and crime everywhere."

"I think this is probably a very difficult issue to solve. It is not something that people like me can interfere with." Holmes said, "London has been fed by the entire earth, but it is still so miserable and dirty."

"So our vision cannot be limited to this world." Moriarty said, "If there are gods in the world, wouldn't it be possible for us to get endless abundance?"

He lied, Holmes thought, he knew that intuition is often the brain processing many details that are not reported but felt in advance, even if he did not lie.

Endless plunder will only lead to ultimate poverty. He never thought that this was a way out. Although McCoff's colleagues promised that things would get better in the future, politicians always lied.

"I'm not interested in humans," said Holmes. He decided to cast out the bait to catch the truth of the man in front of him, who was buried under the high-sounding words. "My mother died very early. The tragedy of her death cast a shadow on my childhood. I studied magic just to see if I could avoid the inevitable death."

Moriarty's light green eyes blinked. "I think this is a problem we will solve."

"You are very honest." He said.

Holmes looked at him, "Then may I ask what are the conditions for joining your research group? It won't be like a weekend reading club, where you can come and go as you please."

Moriarty smiled, "There are no conditions, but I hope you can register your name on the wall of our research group."

"Forget it then." Sherlock Holmes shook his head, "Because someone in my family holds an important position. If he knows that our surname appears on the wall of such a research institute, he will kill me to prove his innocence."

"That's really strict." Moriarty said, he pushed his glasses, "But you are always welcome to come and discuss problems with me." He said friendly, reaching out and patting the young man on the shoulder.

His hands were warm, Holmes thought, proving that he was in good health.

However, Professor James Moriarty never spoke to him again. He seemed to have found other students. Holmes stood quietly at the end of the corridor and observed. The professor gently and cheerfully enlightened a student, and then took him out of the corridor, as if he was going to his dormitory in the college.

Holmes remembered this student. He was from a poor family, so he did not live a satisfactory life in Cambridge, where many noble children gathered. However, he was very optimistic about the talent of this classmate. He was smart and was a mathematical genius.

Holmes followed him. He followed them not far away and listened to their conversation. It was nothing more than some daily life and comforting students. There was nothing unusual. It even made people feel that this professor was very considerate and warm-hearted.

He was too young at that time and his tracking skills were not proficient. Not long after, he saw Moriarty turned his head slightly, and his light green eyes stared at his eyes. He caught a trace of cunning and ruthlessness similar to that of a brown bear.

He was warning himself.

Holmes was not going to give up, but for now, it was better not to continue tracking.

He noticed that Moriarty had not returned to the office area for a whole day. He wandered around the teacher's family area, but neither the student nor Moriarty came out.

Finally, at dusk, the student came out. He looked very calm, as if his mood had been soothed. Holmes followed him and watched him return to the dormitory.

Although everything seemed normal, the student did not greet anyone. Although he was not popular, he should at least nod to the dormitory manager. Holmes took advantage of the uncle to collect clothes and slipped into the dormitory building that did not belong to him.

Then he heard a loud noise.

The boy hanged himself in the window at the end of the corridor.

He tied the rope to the window frame and jumped out without hesitation. Holmes rushed over, and the people downstairs began to scream. He did not have much time to check if there was anything wrong with the body.

He dragged the young man with a broken neck in from outside, and began to check his pockets.

There was nothing strange.

He began to unbutton his clothes to see if there were any tattoos or anything else, but the next second, he found that the young man's nose seemed to be injured. He looked at his nostrils and it seemed to be cut by a very thin steel wire. He reached out and subconsciously knocked on the young man's head.

He heard a hollow echo.

The young man's brain was taken out of his nose.

Just like the ancient Egyptian mummies.

However, he walked back.

Magic, dark rituals, these words echoed in his brain, but he didn't have time to think about it, and immediately pretended to be giving first aid, and many students did come and surrounded the body.

Then the body was transported away.

Holmes took advantage of the chaos to leave the teaching building.

It was James Moriarty's work, it must be.

He looked around, and sure enough, behind a tree not far away, he saw the pair of light green eyes.

Fortunately, he was attracted by more important things this time and didn't notice himself.

He lowered his hat, broke away from the noisy crowd, and rushed out of the school on his own, wondering if McCoff could use his influence to preserve the body.

The reason is not difficult to find. If such a body is made public, it will definitely cause panic in all walks of life.

After all, this is a body that has lost its brain, but can still move, and can even break its own neck.

But if the police want to get his brain back, Holmes thought, it might become another long-standing unsolved case in the police station.

He didn't know how Moriarty would use this clever brain, but he knew it would never be as simple as putting it in a jar for appreciation.

Moriarty is not a Frankenstein, nor is he a perverted murderer.

He is a leader with a purpose.