122 Deduction After Dinner (1/2)

In a remote tavern in downtown, a bedraggled man drank wine with large gulps under the dim yellow light. His eyes were dazed and his hair was messy. His clothing was originally clean, but had become dirty with its owner’s ”care.” Failures like him could be seen everywhere in downtown, getting drunk and escaping from reality. But he seemed to be rich, and could afford the expensive wines.

”F*ck, a bunch of bullsh*t!” Lestrade spat. He downed the wine and snapped his fingers, calling the bartender for another bottle.

The bartender seemed not to have heard and did not reply. Angry, Lestrade moved to flip the table over, but a bottle was placed before him. He was already wasted, but he could still see that it was black market whiskey from Burgundy. Thirty bottles were produced annually. It was a rare luxury.

A figure sat before him. One could see from the contours that the man was dressed well and was full of grace. Voice gentle, he asked, ”Hey, friend, mind if I sit here? I’ve had a good harvest recently, and I want to celebrate. I need a friend to share with.”

Lestrade opened his eyes, but he was drunk and could not see clearly. The newcomer took off his hat, and placed it on the table. Then he opened the bottle smoothly and poured two glasses, ”Cheers to the mighty Avalon.”

The gentlemanly figure raised his glass. Lestrade hesitated. Pursing his lips, he raised his as well. ”F*ck Avalon.”

Downing the glass in one shot, the sweet liquor rolled down his throat, waking his drowsy senses. Pursing his lips, he tossed the glass and stuck up his middle finger, ”Okay, you can scram now.”

”So uncivilized,” the newcomer sighed. He finished the glass and set it down. ”Friend, why must you drink by yourself? Life is short. You need a friend to talk about your worries with. You need a good listener.”

”You f*cking lunatic…” Rolling his eyes, Lestrade slammed his hand onto the table and stood up, ready to leave.

”Sit,” the elegant voice said behind him.

For some reason, Lestrade’s vision blurred, his knees buckled, and he sat in the chair again.

”Very good. This is the basis of a conversation. You must be polite and open your heart.” As Lestrade’s eyes widened in shock, the newcomer laughed quietly. ”Let me introduce myself. My name is Holmes, Sherlock Holmes. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Inspector Lestrade. I’ve heard much about you…”

Lestrade was awake instantly. He opened his eyes, finally seeing the man clearly. A chill ran down his spine.

The man who called himself Holmes sat in the shadow under the swaying light. Dim light illuminated his robe, but the robe was beastly—menacing and terrifying. The candlelight danced across his face but could not illuminate his features. It was all a blur. And in the blurriness, two dark orbs reflected the light like burning flames.

The rest of the bar seemed to fade with the man’s appearance. They seemed to be in a different world. People passed by, but no one spared them a glance.

Holmes laughed, his voice hoarse. ”Seems that you’re still drunk. Why don’t we play a game?” He pulled a marble from his pocket and tossed it into the glass before him. Then he flipped the two glasses over and moved them around at a dizzying speed. When the short but fast movements ended, Sherlock let go and pointed at the two glasses. ”Guess where the marble is.”

Lestrade studied him cautiously, but the man just smiled, waiting patiently. Lestrade wanted to leave but the chill in his body made him hesitate. After a long time, he pointed to the glass on the right.

”Beep! Beep! Wrong!” The man flipped the glass, revealing the emptiness. ”There’s a punishment for choosing wrong.”

Crack!