Becoming Professor Moriarty's Probability-Chapter 238: The Detective’s Sorrow (3)
“… Leave this place.”
The silence that had blanketed the study for so long was first broken by Professor Moriarty, her gaze dark and guarded as she held the children protectively in her arms, shielding them from Charlotte and Watson.
“The children’s safety could be compromised if outsiders are allowed in freely.”
- Crrrrk…
“Please, leave on your own before I am forced to use violence.”
She averted her gaze as she spoke, but Charlotte ground her teeth audibly, glaring daggers at the professor.
“You wouldn’t like it either if Adler’s children got caught in the crossfire and hurt… would you?”
“…….”
Those words, however, made Charlotte freeze in place. Her anger dissipated momentarily as her gaze softened, fixating on the adorable children with a strange, vacant expression.
“I… have one condition.”
“… What is it?”
“Just for a moment, even a brief one… let me see the children up close.”
“No.”
Her voice hollow, Charlotte made her request, but Moriarty’s curt and icy refusal came immediately.
“How could I possibly trust what you might do…!”
“… You should accept my proposal.”
“……..”
“Because, as you said yourself… I don’t want his children to get hurt either.”
Charlotte, her voice distant and empty, began emanating a murderous aura so heavy it seemed to fill the room. Moriarty, now glaring at her with gritted teeth, looked visibly shaken.
“Are you serious right now?”
“… Does it look like I’m not?”
For the first time in her life, Moriarty was confronted with a threat that exploited something she now held dearer than herself. Such thought terrified her so that cold sweat trickled down her face in droves.
“Only for… a very brief moment.”
After what felt like an eternity, Moriarty clenched her fists tightly, her expression unwilling, yet resigned, as she finally caved to Charlotte’s demand.
“If you try anything reckless… you won’t be leaving this place alive.”
As the professor’s voice dripped with lethal intent, Charlotte nodded silently and began to move forward.
“Awu?”
“Whiiing?”
She took slow, deliberate steps towards the beings whose faint resemblance to a face she could only see in photos and dreams now.
“… Hello.”
Having reached the professor’s desk, Charlotte hesitated for a moment before greeting the children.
- Swish…
Almost unconsciously, her hand reached out towards the children’s soft cheeks.
- Bzzzt! Zzzzt!
“… Huh!?”
Before her hand could even graze their skin, a complex magical sigil flared to life mid-air, shocking her hand with a jolt of electricity.
“Don’t… touch my children…”
It was one of the numerous protective spells Moriarty had meticulously crafted over the span of a week, pouring all her magical expertise into safeguarding her children.
“……..”
Charlotte glared at the professor, her hand trembling from the sudden paralysis. Gritting her teeth, she turned her gaze back to the children, her expression a mixture of frustration and longing.
“Gyaoo…!”
“Gyaa~!”
The children, as if instinctively recognising Charlotte as a threat, mimicked the playful growling sounds Adler often used, trying to intimidate her.
“……..!”
Charlotte’s eyes began to waver, the sight of the children stirring something deep within her.
“Kids…”
Suppressing her emotions, she lowered her head further, trying to take in every detail of Adler’s children’s faces.
“Hee?”
“Wah?”
But then, the children began mimicking Moriarty’s habit, tilting their heads from side to side in curiosity. At this, Charlotte’s expression grew visibly darker.
“… Ugh.”
Her face turned pale, and she abruptly covered her mouth with her hand.
“Urgh…!”
“”………?””
Without another word, she clumsily turned on her heels and bolted out of the study, leaving the confused children behind.
“”………””
A brief silence followed her sudden departure.
“… So, what’s your plan now?”
Breaking the stillness, Watson, who had remained quietly in place, fixed Moriarty with an icy glare as she spoke.
“Now that you have children you love so dearly, are you planning to retire from the criminal underworld?”
“…….”
“Are you going to hide that cruel side of yourself and settle into the role of just a regular professor?”
Professor Moriarty just stared at Watson for a long moment, her expression unreadable.
“If I were to return to a normal life, could the children live happily?”
“……..”
“… When there are dozens of people, including that brat and you, who want me dead.”
Her eyes gleamed with a sinister light as she began to speak.
“From today onward, I will solidify my empire even further. For the sake of my children.”
“Hah…”
“I will reign at the very top, eternally, so that… no one can ever lay a finger on my children.”
At this, Watson, her gaze icy cold, opened her mouth to respond.
“Such a touching display of maternal love.”
“…….”
“Though, it’s twisted to an utterly absurd degree.”
“… Leave.”
At Watson’s mocking tone, Moriarty immediately growled, pointing at the door.
“If you disappear right this instant, I shall overlook your earlier insult.”
Watson stared at her for a moment before finally turning on her heel.
“Even the love you’ve finally realised is warped. You truly are so pitiful.”
“… At the very least, I’m less pitiful than those who don’t even have a single memory to hold onto of the one we have all lost.”
As Watson walked away, leaving those words behind, Moriarty shot back, her gaze softening momentarily as she glanced at the whining children. Watson exited the study without another word.
“Ugh… guh… blegh…”
“….. Holmes.”
Once outside, the first thing Watson saw was Charlotte slumped in the corridor, retching up bile.
“Watson…”
Charlotte, her face streaked with tears and snot, gasped for air as she looked up at Watson with a trembling voice.
“I see… I see the face of the woman I hate the most in the world… on the face, I love more than anything else…”
“……..”
“They’re so precious, so lovable… I want to hold them close, but… I can’t even bring myself to meet their eyes…”
Watson silently looked down at her as Charlotte’s trauma once again consumed her.
“I-I… just what the hell am I supposed to do…”
“Let’s go…”
Watson finally helped Charlotte to her feet, practically forcing her to walk as they moved away.
“… Adler…”
“Haaah…”
The sky over London that day was particularly overcast.
.
.
.
.
.
“……”
A few days later. 221B Baker Street.
- Knock, knock, knock…
“……..?”
Charlotte, following Watson’s advice, had quit both drugs and cigarettes. Yet, for days now, she hadn’t touched food or drink, sitting vacantly in her armchair, staring out the window.
“… Who is it?”
For the first time in what felt like forever, she turned her head towards the door, where the sounds of knocking resounded.
- It’s me, Holmes.
“… Come in.”
She muttered weakly once she heard Watson’s voice, muffled by the door.
- Creak…
The door creaked open slowly, but it wasn’t just Watson who entered the room.
“……..”
It was Gia Lestrade, wearing a black flower pinned to her uniform, her expression so drained and ragged it was almost unrecognisable. The inspector accompanied Watson into the room.
“… What brings you here?”
Even so, Charlotte, devoid of any interest, spoke in a flat, emotionless tone.
“… Are you aware of the recent resurgence of unsolved cases in London?”
“No. I haven’t read the papers in a while.”
“You… who used to memorise newspapers on the daily are saying that?”
“… Nothing interests me anymore.”
At her dry response, Lestrade frowned deeply before beginning her explanation.
“The professor’s shadow is creeping over London again. There’s mounting evidence that her organisation has resumed its acti…”
“… I don’t care.”
Charlotte cut her off mid-sentence, her tone indifferent.
“No matter what happens in the world… no matter what the professor is plotting… it has nothing to do with me anymore.”
“Then… what do you plan to do with yourself?”
“… Move to the countryside, take up beekeeping, and eventually kill myself, I suppose.”
Her response, laden with despair, made Lestrade glance cautiously at Watson, seeking guidance.
“It seems… there’s only one way left.”
“… It does.”
After a brief exchange of silent understanding, both of them steeled their expressions.
“But Miss Holmes, listen. What if…”
“… I’m not interested.”
Charlotte looked ready to dismiss Lestrade once again when the inspector opened her mouth to speak, but—
“What if… there was one final mystery left behind by Isaac Adler?”
“……..!”
At the mention of that name, Charlotte’s pupils dilated sharply.
“He… left a final mystery?”
“Indeed. Miss Watson will provide the details.”
At this, Charlotte’s gaze shifted instantly to Watson.
“… I heard it directly from Adler himself, just days before that incident.”
“What did he say…?”
“The name of the one responsible. The source behind the now-vanished supernatural and bizarre phenomena.”
At her reply, Charlotte’s brow began to twitch, her interest piqued despite herself.
“Adler sacrificed himself to stop the monsters from spreading worldwide. And that means…”
“The true culprit behind Adler’s death is that very entity.”
Lestrade, unable to contain her fury, ground her teeth as she interjected in front of Charlotte.
“We’ve vowed to catch that bastard, no matter what it takes.”
“……..”
“… Are you still not interested, Miss Holmes?”
With Lestrade’s provocation, the fire that had been extinguished in Charlotte’s eyes began to blaze to life once more.
“What’s that bastard’s name…?”
“But before that, there’s something else we need to deal with.”
In a low voice, Watson began to speak to her.
“According to Adler, the professor and that entity must never become aware of each other’s existence.”
“…….”
“So first, we need to completely put an end to the professor, who’s resumed her activities…”
Before Watson could finish her words, Charlotte rose from her seat.
“… I don’t care.”
“”………””
“The professor, that bastard… I’ll destroy them both.”
For the first time in days, Charlotte changed into her outdoor attire. Her expression, sharp and menacing, made it clear she was resolute as she asked again.
“… So, what’s that bastard’s name?”
.
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Meanwhile,
“… Argh!”
Adler, drenched in cold sweat and tossing restlessly in bed, suddenly screamed and bolted upright.
“………”
For nearly a year and a half, he had been plagued by vivid nightmares of the women he left behind in London, living utterly broken lives. Night after night, without fail.
“… This isn’t how it’s supposed to be.”
***
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