Chapter 51 Roses blooming on the gray coast

The gap between the outer world and the inner world, the inner world.

Dirty, chaotic, bloody.

The boy turned on the tap in a dilapidated building with peeling walls, and rusty water like blood began to drip from it.

This is not drinkable, Sherlock Holmes thought. It must be said that the scarcity of resources in this world is surprising. He originally thought that the British Isles were one of the poorest places on earth.

The good news is that he finally found a place where the food is worse than that in Britain. The bad news is that he is here now.

Incredible poverty and despair, incredible cruelty and desolation.

It is almost difficult to find food and water that can be used. The boy curled up in the house and lifted the cloth to look at his feet. The blisters have been broken. He has been trekking in this ruin for too long. Fortunately, Lucy's compass ensured that he was always walking west, otherwise he would really find it difficult to tell the direction in this messy and deep white fog.

But he is indeed exhausted.

Whether it was the blisters on his feet or the injuries on his knees, he knew that he had almost reached his physical limit, but his heart was still beating fiercely, telling him that he didn't want to reach the end of his life like this.

He was holding a skeleton and sucking the goblin's marrow. He was no longer surprised by this. After all, it was all flesh and blood, and could be eaten and used as fuel for survival.

He had not only eaten goblins, but also demon dogs, flower fairies, elves, nightmares, and other species that he couldn't name. He didn't expect that the few fairy tales he read when he was a child had been eaten as a recipe by him.

But he didn't regret embarking on this journey of life and death. On the contrary, he even felt excited and happy.

If any naturalist told him that he had seen goblins and demon dogs, fought with monsters in mythology, and gnawed their bones, he would be excited to the point of fainting.

Sherlock Holmes put down the skeleton in his hand and pricked up his ears. He heard a dull sound, which he was already very familiar with.

They are giants, they will drag their heavy steps, but they are actually dull and gentle by nature.

The truly terrifying creatures here are feathered serpents, hounds, and ferocious goblins.

However, they each have their own habits and their own rules.

They are connected to us, Holmes couldn't help thinking, I am about to understand them.

He struggled to stand up.

The compass pointed him to the west, and the pale sun rose. He could set off. The boy dragged his tired and shaky steps, dragging step by step towards the coast.

Maybe he was almost there. He smelled the smell of sea salt in the air, which should mean that the ocean was close at hand. He looked at the wooden door of a building on the side and saw traces of salt corrosion on it, but he was really dizzy now, and the white sunlight made him even more dizzy.

He found a narrow house, then built a shelter for himself as much as possible, lay down, and put the bottle close to his body.

Then he closed his eyes and fell asleep soon.

When he woke up from an exceptionally long sleep, he heard the sound of the sea, the waves clapping one after another, the hypnotic effect was very good, he suddenly didn't want to open his eyes, but the small key in his hand suddenly began to heat up, so he had to sit up suddenly, he opened his eyes and looked around, and found that he was indeed on a beach.

Gray cliffs stood behind him, with clusters of beautiful roses blooming on them.

The sleeping giant on the seashore looked like a mountain.

He was completely sleepy.

Holmes had heard of this gray beach belonging to the dead in fairy tales. Gray fog shrouded the deep ocean. He looked into the distance, but found that he could not see anything clearly. The fog seemed to be consciously protecting something, or blocking something.

He touched the small bottle, it was still beside him, and it began to shake violently as if it was inspired by something. Finally, the bottle cap popped up, and the golden substance inside flowed out and disappeared into the air.

His mission was completed. He stood alone on the gray beach. The sound of the tide was like a lullaby that continued to urge him to sleep. He was too tired, so he could only sit down and be brought to sleep by the sound.

When he woke up, he was already lying on the hospital bed, as if the experience of the other world and the gray beach were just a dream.

"Luna." He murmured in a low voice, and then heard McCoff's voice, "What's wrong, are you in love?"

"Luna, who?" The boy murmured to himself. He just subconsciously felt that this name meant something, but he couldn't remember it at all.

"Father asked me to ask you, is there any place you want to go for our family trip?" McCoff said, "He plans to book a luxury cruise ticket and take us there." He spread his hands, "Relax."

"How long have I slept?" Holmes sat up.

"About two days." Mycroft said, "The doctor said that you were too sad because your mother passed away."

"But I didn't think you were so close to your mother on weekdays." Mycroft lowered his eyes, "I should have comforted you earlier."

Sherlock took an orange and peeled it slowly, "Like this."

"In the future, our family must be more united." Mycroft said, "We will take good care of Dad, right?"

Sherlock nodded. He felt a little absent-minded, as if he was walking on clouds. He just nodded along with Mycroft's words, but he couldn't remember anything he wanted to remember.

He only remembered a name. Luna

.

That was all his clues.

"Okay, let's go on a trip together." Sherlock said, his gray eyes looked at the trees outside the window, and for no reason he felt that he might not have seen green plants and golden sun for a long time.

Mycroft looked at his face, Sherlock turned his head and looked at him, "Is there anything dirty on my face?"

"No." Mycroft said, "I just suddenly feel that I can't understand you anymore."

"That's a matter of time." Sherlock said.

Mycroft didn't speak, he sighed rarely.

"Sherlock, I always feel that I will lose you one day." He said, "Lose you forever."

Sherlock knew that Mycroft had a good brain, so fast that the result of reasoning was right in front of him, so Mycroft was lazy and rarely verified whether his result was really correct, and the evolution of things proved that he was always accurate.

He was not a person who liked to make such jokes.

"Will you swear not to leave us?" Mycroft asked, and then he asked himself and answered, "No."

Mycroft stood up and walked out by himself. Sherlock looked at his brother's back. He had just started college at that time and had not started the long office work, so he had not gained weight yet. He felt that his shoulders were inexplicably a little slumped.

"Come out for a walk when you're free." Mycroft's voice came from the corridor, returning to that relaxed and casual tone. "Father said we're going to America. Are you looking forward to it?"

To be honest, there was nothing to look forward to, Holmes thought to himself. There were too few people on that continent. Even if there was a case, it would basically be wiped out by the violent nature. It would be difficult for him to find something interesting to do.

He stood up, and suddenly he saw something. There was something lying alone on his bed.

He picked it up. It was an ordinary, shiny silver key. It was undoubtedly not from any lock he was familiar with. He held the key up to the light and found that it seemed too new. There was no trace of it having been inserted into any lock. There was no trace on it. He sniffed it and it smelled like dust.

He put the key away.

He knew that one day he would find its source.

That was Luna's key, Holmes thought. He remembered that he had lost the key on the cruise ship to the United States, which meant that Luna had come back to life at that time. Of course, it was not the same Luna he saw at that time.

The current Luna was more reckless than before, and seemed happier.

But they were highly consistent.

They wanted to open up the road blocked by the fog and bring all those who wanted to go home back to their utopia.

All the memories related to this world returned to his brain. He looked in front of him. The bronze coffin seemed to have never moved, and there was no living thing here. He walked towards it and saw words appearing on its empty surface.

It was his name.

Sherlock Holmes.

The year has been locked in this year.

He will have a few months to complete his last case.

Frey appeared at the gate of the cemetery, "It seems you have found your bronze coffin."

"Yes." Holmes nodded, "What about James Moriarty, didn't he ask you for the bronze coffin leading to the utopia?"

"He wants to be the master there." Frey said calmly, "He doesn't need this."

"There is no bronze coffin prepared, so he doesn't plan to bring any of his servants with him? I'm afraid even the loyal Moriarty doesn't have this opportunity." Holmes said, he revealed a faint smile, "It turned out to be him."