Sherlock Holmes Fate の小説・ストーリー

Sherlock's voice broke as he tried crawling to him with his hands still chained to his back but he fell on the ground instead. "I see you have started acting." A chill voice sounded, too chill that Sherlock almost peed on himself. Wait a minute... He remembers that voice. He looked towards the direction where the voice came from and he felt his heart gnaw hard at him. His eyes widened in their sockets and for real, he peed on himself. He couldn't even feel the shame as he stared at the figure standing gallantly by the door. He really wanted this to be a prank, there was no way he knew about their hands in his father's death, right?

The real murderers had been apprehended, and justice was served, but the enigma of the mysterious person lingered, casting a long shadow over her understanding of the events. Leaving the police station that day, Sophia walked through the bustling streets of London with a sense of both closure and lingering unrest. The city, with its timeless facade, seemed to absorb the echoes of her steps. She couldn't shake the feeling that the true orchestrator of the chaos remained at large, hidden behind layers of deception. That evening, as she packed her belongings for the journey back to the United States, Sophia grappled with the realization that some mysteries defy unraveling. In the quiet of her h

I pushed the thought down, refusing to dwell on it. I was over that life. That part of me was long gone. It died in that courtroom when everyone stared at me like I was an abomination. When my own father turned his back on me and didn’t even deem it necessary to hear my side of the story. That Aurelia… She was gone. Dead. Fred didn’t press. He just nodded, like he already knew everything. The whole story. “Then we must fix that first.” I looked at him questionably, and he just beamed at me. The place we went to wasn’t the dealership.

A neighbor, an older woman with sharp eyes, shuffled over, her voice low, her heart guarded with suspicion. “You looking for Mr. Holmes?” she asked, her hands folding. My throat tightened, my pulse racing as I nodded, my eyes burning with hope. “He died about a year ago,” she said, her voice soft, her eyes narrowing with unease. “Found in his garage, no clear cause—real mysterious. Cops didn’t dig too deep.” My heart sank, my throat raw with shock, my eyes stinging as Richards face paled, his pulse quickening—I could see it in his clenched hands.

Seiko’s gift will help guide each wolf spirit, in its own time, back to the goddess. One by one she’ll touch each departed brethren waiting for the signs of release of the wolf’s soul. From what I’ve seen, sometimes it takes seconds, others keen on staying part of this world take hours. It might sound like total bullshit, but at the time of release, the marks we all carry just above our hearts, the very same spot we also mark our mates, fade, with a final breath sneaking past their lips one last time. Though the contents exhaled in that breath aren’t visible, the disappearance of the mark is.

Then he gave the phone to Flora to check something: It was an article about the crime that happened during their trip to the orient express. “The result came out. It was done by an unknown person. Case closed.” “Thank goodness!” said Flora while reading the article. Then she read a line that made her open her mouth in astonishment: “Faranight wasn’t poisoned! The cause of death was sinking!” “He went on board to meet his old friend and go together to where they hid some gold they stole from the mafia ten years ago. But Faranight felt a pang of huge guilt and he suicide. The other one has been taken care of by your friend Amélie.”

I didn’t touch mine. “Sherlock,” I said, my eyes fixed on his, “the wizard. He’s been murdered.” Dominic’s hand paused mid-sip. Then, slowly, he set the glass down and laughed. “Sherlock has been murdered?” he repeated, shaking his head. “And you think I did it?” I didn’t answer, I just stared at him. “Who else would have done it?” I finally said. “You were the one who captured him. And we agreed we were going to release him after questioning.”

Then, suddenly hearing of his dismiss left me bothered and equally pained. It felt like just weeks ago when we went out together for dinner, and I shuddered, realizing his face, flirty smiles, and snarky comments were all gone. He was a criminal before he died, Yes. But I was satisfied with him just paying for his sins behind bars and not in this way. "They've arrived at the station and the case is likely to be suicide as well as it could be murder. The chances are almost equal. Hence, the cops haven't concluded yet." Clarissa's voice pierced into my thoughts, sharp and clear.

I said and went through my schedule several times in my head. "Yes, of course. We'll just look for clues here inconspicuously. Above all, we have to keep an eye out for his bag. I remember exactly when he left the house, he had a bag with him. But when they found him , it was gone." Blake was looking a lot like Sherlock Holmes at the moment, going over the first few facts.

Lord Adam inclined his head and leaned back on his throne. "That is because he had concluded his life span and it still doesn't change the fact that the quest for cigarettes ended his life. After all, smokers are liable to die young, but how precisely was never stated. Fate had something else planned for him." Cass bowed his head and sat. "So you are saying fate manifested?" Lord adam queried. "Of course yes, he could have choked on his cigarette that night or whatever because he was meant to die, hence the Spanish dictum Que Sera Sera."