Miss Holmes, the Professor Is Not a Villain

10 – Meeting with Miss Holmes was the worst (10)

“Now, I think we might have to stop here for today.”

“I think the answer will come out if I think a little longer……The answer is certainly an induction, right? Right?”

“Now, now, junior detective, you can check that during the lessons tomorrow.”

How sincere Sherlock was about wanting to continue studying, even if he had followed her well, was still a marvel every time he saw her.

However, Moriarty had his own schedule, so he inevitably had to end the lesson.

Sherlock was well aware that it was useless to whine at the teacher, so she neatly gave up and said goodbye to her teacher.

“Then let’s meet again tomorrow, M. The case today was splendid too.”

“Yes, today’s work was also splendid, S.”

Having said thus, Sherlock left Moriarty’s room and disappeared somewhere like a flying squirrel.

S and M.

At some point, these became aliases and nicknames between the two of them, half in jest. Of course, it hadn’t been Moriarty’s suggestion. He could be interested in Sherlock and teaching her, but never to the point of engaging in childish games.

He didn’t know if Sherlock mimicked sneakiness from some detective or adventure novel, but Moriarty had no alternative but to humor her.

Sherlock naturally decided the encrypted names; her childlike simplicity showed itself through the unimaginative codes.

For Moriarty, they used the initial of his name to be M.

“Then you must be H.”

“There are many Holmes in the house. Call me S, Sherlock’s S, M.”

Sherlock, mimicking the adult’s gesture by flicking her finger, made Moriarty laugh quietly, shaking his head.

Since then, the two occasionally called each other by code names, occasionally savouring the sweet pain like kept candy.

His typically boisterous room fell eerily quiet once Sherlock found her place. Moriarty was accustomed to solitude, but he couldn’t help feeling a void at this moment.

There was even a hint of bitterness.

He chuckled bitterly, unwittingly. It was rare to feel something emotional since his rebirth.

Was he normal? He wanted to deny it. Nevertheless, he had no difficulty to accept because he was somewhat icy.

So, he might be inadvertently interested in Sherlock Holmes, and even obsessed.

Yes, it was an obsession.

But Moriarty still couldn’t fully accept it. The moment he did, he felt he couldn’t turn things around.

‘Am I becoming sensitive from playing with a child?’

Shaking his head, he decided to concentrate on his personal tasks.

It was inevitable to stay with the Holmes family. It was due to his job as a tutor for Mycroft, which was for money.

At Holmes’, regardless of him teaching Sherlock voluntarily and without pay, linguistic and Mrs. Holmes were not so cruel to exploit others’ kindness. Thus, Moriarty’s wage was slightly higher than initially planned, though he didn’t demand it.

Moriarty knew that the couple were truly kind. But that was it. They were just uninteresting ordinary folks unlike Sherlock or Mycroft. He thought if they were like their children, maybe he might hesitate to damage them or get rid of them.

But as ordinary people, regardless of how kind they were, there would be no hesitation in doing such things.

But Moriarty, at least for now, wanted to live an ordinary life, so he immersed himself in personal research.

He would have continued his research at school under normal circumstances, but he was given about a year to bring results to secure a position at Oxford’s mathematics department.

The subject was decided upon arrival and was a small dissertation on binomial theorem. He mimicked the research of other mathematicians for a while, scribbling various formulas on paper and investing some time to open new horizons with proof.

He was a man who liked to live a regular life. Otherwise, he would’ve surely wasted away in this boring world.

If he didn’t adhere to the predetermined procedure, he would certainly fall apart. The world was utterly boring.

So, when it was time, he slowly stopped his research and stretched. Suddenly he rechecked the date, and realized he urgently needed to send a letter.

Lately, he often forgot important matters because he was immersed in teaching Sherlock.

Living in 19th century British society was a tedious job, but he had to maintain an appropriate social life.

Although a place was virtually ready for him at Oxford Christ Church, it was inevitable to flatter in a suitable manner between people.

In the dull countryside where Holmes’ mansion was located, the postman used to collect letters on certain days and today was the day.

He started writing letters to two people in Oxford for social life.

The most important first letter was naturally a letter to Henry Liddell, dean of Oxford Christ Church.

Formally and boringly, he sent a brief greeting with words that elderly superiors would like to hear and ended the letter. He inadvertently frowned at having to flatter an annoying person.

The second letter was a bit lighter to write. It was for Charles Dodgson, one of his professors, who rather liked his talent and influenced the professorship.

……I’m doing well, Professor Dodgson. The dissertation on the binomial theorem that I mentioned is also nearing completion. I think it might get a decent reaction at the tedious Royal Society. I’ll have to go back to Oxford for a while soon, so at that time, I’d like to discuss this point with you.

Life here is always the same. Of course, Sherlock, whom I talked about in a previous letter, follows me well and we’re doing well. She may not meet you, but I think she is a little lady you would like very much.

She’s the most peculiar and interesting―

However, Moriarty couldn’t finish the letter. The worn-out nib of the pen gave out and spat out ink.

Because it was a letter meant to flatter Professor Dodgson and attract his interest, Moriarty unwittingly licked his lips.

Professor Dodgson, a stutterer, was well-known in the school for being fond of children. He was so friendly with the daughters of the headmaster, Liddell, that there was rumor about it.

Of course, if Dodgson had truly been in the same category as that dreadful pedophile, Moriarty, who wouldn’t blink an eye if anyone dropped dead in the street due to his absolute indifference, would not have dared to bring up Sherlock’s story.

But he had a knack for seeing through people with an innate intuition, and to his observation, while Professor Dodgson might have been a little immaturity, he simply liked children because he was childlike.

But the crucial thing was that the letter needed to be completed. Coincidentally, there were no extra pens on hand.

With no other choice, Moriarty decided to go to Mycroft to borrow something, and on the way, he ran into the maid Sally in the mansion.

Because it was approaching summer, it was already hot. Sally had been working outside and was dripping with sweat from hard housekeeping work, but she greeted him with a bright smile as soon as she saw Moriarty.

‘Such a stupid woman.’

Moriarty derided the young maid inwardly. She was too simple, he could see everything just by looking at her face.

Of course, it wasn’t just Sally who was particularly stupid, so it was not entirely her fault.

Everyone lives with some illusions. They live holding onto something, knowing that it’s impossible. For Sally, a maid, Moriarty, who was not much older, had a secured professor position, was set to attain an appropriate social status, and was above all, handsome and polite, was a dream-like opportunity.

Of course, not just Moriarty, even if someone else in a similar situation had arrived, Sally’s dream would not have come true.

But Moriarty was able to utilize these fantasies and his physical appearance to win people’s favor, and he did not hesitate to do so.

“Just a moment, there are plenty in the master’s room, you can borrow one!”

Someone watching might have considered him as crafty as a snake controlling people, like the future detective Sherlock or Mycroft.

But Sally clapped her hands and led Moriarty to Holmes’s room, who was outside at the moment.

Of course, the door to Holmes’s room was locked. He was quite a sensitive man.

“The door is locked.”

“Don’t worry.”

Sally discreetly lifted one corner of the carpet near the door in response to Moriarty’s observation. There was a glinting key there, and with a smile at Moriarty as if to earn points, she opened the door with that key.

“Everyone in this mansion knows about it, I think only Mr. Holmes believes he has hidden it well.”

“I see.”

Moriarty followed Sally into the room after a brief inspection of the carpet. Already familiar with the room structure due to cleaning, Sally started looking for an extra pen by carefully opening the drawers.

In the process, an unexpected item was also found.

“It’s a gun.”

“Oh, don’t worry. It’s an empty gun. The pastor keeps the bullets separately in a safe, so it’s never loaded.”

Sally’s gaze briefly lingered on a safe located in a corner, and Moriarty didn’t miss it.

The maids often gossiped about their masters. Especially Sally, who wanted to get closer to Moriarty by any means, started talking to keep up the conversation, even if half of it was to caricature their masters.

Moriarty paid close attention and his eyes sparkled.