Sherlock Holmes Novels & Stories

Why did this sound a little funny to his ears? Hugo snorted as he read the next and next pages, but there was no other explanation except that their strength would be stronger and so on; an overly generic and unsatisfactory explanation for Hugo. He closed the book and slammed it again on the floor. “Reksa, you call yourself the ‘boss devil’, but you don't even know about this kind of information, do you?” Hugo grumbled angrily. A shadow in the form of dark smoke billowed in front of Hugo, slowly transforming into a short old man wearing a wooden staff. His head was half bald, with gray hair and beard. He did not look like a devil even once in that form.

Sunlight cast the shadows of the massive columns into a grid pattern; in the flickering light and shadow, only the light tap of her boot heels could be heard. The man was dazed for a split second, then regained his cold composure. He quickened his pace, turning a corner swiftly and silently, but stopped abruptly, his sharp pupils constricting violently. The slender figure had vanished without a trace, leaving only the empty long corridor, so quiet one could hear a heartbeat. His finger was on the trigger of his gun, yet he felt no threat of falling into a trap. His gaze was suddenly drawn to something. At the end of the corridor was a life-sized statue of the Goddess of Fate.

"I will now tell you everything that you need to know." Three people are gathering in this room, a glass wall separating them from the rest of an office filled with people. A woman and a man sitting in front of another man's desk. This man is a famous detective by the name of Vanity Brown. A title that he gave himself to make himself seem like a crazy person to most, helped him not be noticed by unwanted people. A man who has been following the entire situation between everyone in the hotel since he was nineteen years old.

A faint smile tugged at his mouth as he reached for the bottle of whisky on his desk. Suddenly, the lights went out. At first it was a flicker—an almost polite interruption. Then the whole building inhaled the night: corridors flattened into shadow; monitors died and cameras turned off. For a beat the silence was almost elegant. The darkness spread through the high-ceilinged floors and down the marble stairways, swallowing the soft clink of glass and the rustle of paper. “Power outage sir,” someone muttered close to the door. “Emergency generator—” “Find it! Damn it!” Holmes snapped. His secretary suddenly stood up and waited in the corner of his desk. He hated puzzles. He hated interruption

He bowed slightly and left. The inspector general heaved a sigh. He hated to see his officers so clueless. But something was strange; Bob had seemed unbothered. All his years in the bureau, Inspector Akhere has seen many smart and creative detectives but he has seen none like Bob Andrews. Smart, creative, fast, and alert, Bob had built a name for himself as the Detective of Detectives. He used the brains of other detectives and he gets positive results. At first, the inspector felt he was just another control freak, but after a close study of the man he finally understood him.

Saul fussed staring somewhere ahead of him and hissed in pain when he tried to move his hand. “Do not move your right arm until the stitches heal.” Carson gravely warned Saul. “Do you know how dangerous of a man Sherlock Hanes is? He is the country's biggest criminal with a host of underworld businesses. And you went right into the devil's den like you were going to a honeymoon, without even a third person coming to know about it.” Carson complained.

I asked. "I..I.. I... " She trailed off. I pinched her cheeks, she pouted and pushed my hand away. "Okay.. Okay. If you want to keep a track of something.. Keep his exact location, where he is now and where his house is, his clients and recent cases, okay?"I explained. Even though I have no intention of knowing anything about it, it would be a waste of time but Her face lit up in happiness. "Sherlock Holmes." I teased.

However, halfway through, the phone he left at the living room's table rang. Paul picked up and saw a call coming from his assistant. "Done?" "Reporting to Young Master, I already have the result of the investigation. It seems like the perpetrator is a Holmes, the heir from the same school as Miss Agatha." "A Holmes, huh. Got it." "What is your command, Sir?"

“Do not call me that.” “You can't hide from what you are forever.” The corner of his lips lifted and he diverted his gaze to behind me. “Deny it all you want.” I ignored him, focusing on what he’d just said. Soren. I’d heard of that before, the name oddly familiar. Tightening my hand around the hilt, I willed the flaring embers down, and focused on the buried information. “Soryn,” My eyes widened. The smirk that had been on Derrick vanished, and his face turned white.

Instead, I grabbed some crumpled scraps from a coworker's desk and started scribbling on those. By dawn, one of my teammates walked in and jumped. I looked dead tired, but my eyes were on fire. "I found the flaw the killer left in yesterday's case." The room lit up. I broke it down during the drive to the suspect's place. "It's the knife. The angle, the serration—it doesn't match the others..." But the second I stepped outside the Bureau, my phone blew up. I checked it—and froze. [Rising Star Detective Blake Solves Another Cold Case—813 Serial Killer in Custody!]