Chapter 58 Have you ever thought about a problem? The ending only occupies a small part of life

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Luna sat in the dining car. She fiddled with the menu and was curious about the ingredients behind these gorgeous names. From a certain perspective, could this be considered a grand funeral for them?

Gold played with the rose in the vase in her hand, letting it spin with her fingers. "I have to say that your imagination may affect the appetite of humans."

"I'm not imagining." Luna said, "Isn't it?"

Gold smiled.

"You're right." She said, handing the marked menu to the waiter, "But the ingredients and humans should not be happy."

"Why are the ingredients unhappy?" Luna said, she looked at her reflection in the dark car window, "In order to have a grand funeral, humans can do anything in this life, but the ingredients have already been obtained." "

So humans are very weird." Gold said with a smile, "I don't know if they have ever thought about a problem. The ending actually only occupies a small part of their lives."

Luna was silent for a while, "Yes, they are not like me."

"Born to die." She said calmly.

"So do you think you are happy with your life?" Gold suddenly asked.

Luna glanced at her, "I didn't expect you would ask such a question."

Gold smiled, and she gently stroked the rose petals, "Indeed, we don't have so many metaphysical things."

"I just want to know whether you have ever longed for what they call living happily in your interactions with humans." Gold said, "To be honest, sometimes such words are really deceptive."

Luna nodded, "Well, but some humans don't seem to have this right, or this ability."

"It's like the ability to be pleased by worldly happiness has been inexplicably castrated." Luna said softly.

She thought of Sherlock Holmes.

He loves daily life, he claims so.

But daily life is not suitable for him.

Perhaps this is some secret strategy of the human population, so that when needed, a savior can be found to sacrifice for everyone.

And it is also extremely gentle and considerate to reduce his pain and the possibility of going astray.

Just like her birth.

Born just to go to the destined ending without hesitation.

Luna looked at her reflection in the car window, a dark version of herself, because the reflection of the glass would lose some light. There

is always some loss in this world, she thought with her chin in her hand, she is the part of the loss that sends everyone home, she knows this very well, no one hides any details and steps from her.

"But according to Mycroft Holmes," she said, playing with the salt shaker with her fingers. It is said that in ancient mysticism, many authors use salt to refer to the energy crystallization precipitated from the souls of noble people. "He thinks you have abducted his brother."

Gold smiled. "We," she looked at the names on the menu, waiting for the dishes to be served boredly, "just gave a little help to the person who wanted to track down Moriarty."

"Or, it can even be said that the culprit is Mycroft Holmes himself. He and his brother are the real complementary twins." Gold was interested to find that even the corners of the menus on this train were gold-plated. "After all, Moriarty is the ultimate criminal who was perfectly nurtured and thrived under the rule of his British Empire." "Without

Britain, there would be no Moriarty." Gold said with a smile. Of course, she could recognize all the precious metals in this magnificent dining car compartment at a glance. This was an absolutely luxury train, and the things needed to build this luxury train.

Silver, spices, and even the raw materials on this menu all came from Britain. Gold knew that the spoils of war were even piled up in the exhibition hall of the British Museum.

The carefully preserved bodies of the kings, princes, and generals of the ancient glorious dynasties ended up like this.

"So the ending is unpredictable." Luna said softly, "Maybe at that time, becoming a mummy was the best ending, but thousands of years later, the situation has changed, and it seems to have become an absurd bad ending."

Gold nodded, "So human beings are impermanent."

"Moriarty got too much material, so he began to hate impermanence. He hoped that he could continue to plunder," Luna said softly, "Does he enjoy his position in the food chain too much?" "

But why does he keep saying that he has had enough of the harm of society?" She asked puzzled.

James Moriarty often likes to say that he is a victim of this society, especially in front of students. Holmes recalled more details about this man. This may be a disguise, or a kind of comfort.

I became like this because society plundered me first, so I took revenge on everything. I did nothing wrong.

"When I was your age, I discovered an asteroid." Professor Moriarty stood on the podium and pretended to mention the past. He wrote something on the blackboard with chalk. The rustling debris looked like the ashes of an unknown victim. He was wearing a brown suit jacket and a green striped shirt. After the forgetfulness imposed on him by the ancient gods was cleared, he found that the memories that he could not find out before began to be as clear and distinct as other parts.

And on his cuffs was a fragment from an unknown meteorite. Holmes knew that this was a unique aesthetic for astronomy enthusiasts, a gift from space.

"It's a pity that my naming rights were taken away by my tutor, along with the thesis." Moriarty said, and something that could be called sadness seemed to flash across his eyes and eyebrows for a moment.

If written in the style of a fairy tale.

He lost his little star.

He was mourning for his little star.

But Sherlock Holmes felt that if Moriarty had not added countless bones and blood stains to the star, it would not have been so heavy.

"How wonderful it is for a person to have a little star of his own." Moriarty said like an aria, enjoying the admiration and regret in the eyes of the students under the podium, which made him instantly rejuvenated.

He noticed the student sitting by the window, Sherlock Holmes. He was not unfamiliar with the surname Holmes, because although Mycroft Holmes was low-key, he was a big man who must be paid close attention to for people like him.

This person was his younger brother.

The two of them looked somewhat similar, with the same broad forehead, light colors mixed so that they were close to gray eyes, waxy white, smooth skin.

Compared with his brother who was rich and had a sense of superiority, his younger brother was thin and sharp. When he sat there and looked at himself with those gray eyes, he actually felt a bit of pain like being pricked by a needle.

He was weighing his words, trying to figure out what was true and what was a lie.

This pain was like salt being sprinkled on a wound.

Yes, salt. Moriarty had already had some exposure to the occult at that time. Many occult masters believed that the souls of noble people could precipitate some white particles.

The sugar that diligent, docile, and simple laborers and breadwinners precipitate is called sugar. It can provide nutrients for festering wounds, so many ignorant rulers will carelessly squander sugar to fill wounds instead of cherishing them and making them play a better role.

However, the salt that sharp, brave, and upright guardians and insightful people precipitate is called salt.

It is the most feared thing for people who are decaying and festering and become the wounds of the world.

At that moment, he felt that the soul of this young man should be pure, high-purity salt.

Otherwise, how could it make him so painful?

Compared to asking himself questions, Sherlock Holmes was undoubtedly more interested in how his salary paid for the crafts on his desk and the paintings behind him.

This was not a good thing.

So he mobilized the students who admired him and some of the supernatural energy he had obtained to cover himself and hide himself in the world.

This trick seemed to work temporarily, and Sherlock Holmes was not so interested in himself.

But he found that he began to be interested in this young student.

And he was very interested.

He began to observe him.

This young man was undoubtedly very smart. He could replicate the experiment with the vague description in the library and get more in-depth and detailed results. He had extraordinary insight and memory, and even had a very subtle control over people's emotions.

He was a rare genius.

And a thought came to the arrogant Moriarty's mind.

Could this guy be sent by God to deal with me?

Otherwise, how could there be two geniuses like him and me in the same era and in the same country.

He slowed down his pace and stood at the end of the corridor. The students left the class noisily. The window behind him was not facing well and not much light could penetrate, while the other window opposite was bright and a bit dazzling.

He saw Sherlock Holmes.

It was after the summer vacation when he had a little fame. He solved a mystery for one of his noble classmates, but it seemed that the young man was not very lucky. He injured his leg and had a cast. So after all the students had left, he came out hopping on crutches.

Very funny.

His soul began to ache. And a plan emerged in his mind.