Writer 1879: Solitary Journey in France

Chapter 377 "Sherlock Holmes's Adventure on Witch Island"!
Lionel knew it wasn't far from Baker Street, about a half-hour walk, but it wasn't a good place to go right now.

The Sign of Four serialization is nearing its end, and the climax of the revelation is underway. The area around 21B Baker Street is filled with Holmes's most enthusiastic fans.

He knew his trip to London was unusual, and he didn't want it to be publicized, at least not for the next few days.

To get to the headquarters of Good Words magazine, it takes at least two hours to walk through East London, and that's at night.

Although he had never actually experienced the security situation in the East District, he wrote a lot about it in his "Sherlock Holmes" stories.

Besides, in a few years, "Jack the Ripper" will appear there...

Going back to knock on the second violinist's door to ask for a meal or borrow some money wouldn't be out of the question, but Lionel really didn't want to lose face in front of such a great man.

After thinking for a while, Lionel decided to wander around the neighborhood to see if he could get a few pennies for dinner, and hopefully take the subway or a horse-drawn carriage.

He wrapped his coat tighter around himself and began to walk aimlessly along the street.

The road beneath my feet gradually extends from the middle-class neighborhood near Regent's Park into the noisy working-class neighborhood.

The gas streetlights have become sparse, casting a dim, yellowish light that illuminates the mottled walls and piles of garbage.

The air was also filled with the smells of coal smoke, cheap tobacco, and fermented beer.

All sorts of "night stalkers" appeared in his field of vision:
Workers, their faces covered in coal dust, just off their night shift; beggars huddled in corners or doorways; the roar of machines echoing from a brightly lit printing workshop…

He also saw the “1pence hostel” – the curtains were open, and you could see many people sitting crowded inside.

Unable to lie down, they could only bend over and rest their heads and arms on a rope that ran across the room, paying a penny each night for this.

For an extra penny, one could get a "bed," which was nothing more than a wooden lattice covered with thin straw and hardboards, like a coffin.

All of this made him truly realize the other side beneath the glamorous surface of this "world capital".

At this point, his legs began to ache, and hunger set in.

He saw a bar ahead with a sign that read "Curved Pickaxe," and the sign itself was a curved pickaxe. Yellow lights were shining through the windows.

Lionel took a deep breath, pushed open the door, and went inside.

The bar was filled with smoke and the air was murky. Behind the bar stood the thinning-haired owner, wiping the glasses.

Several wooden tables were occupied by customers dressed as workers, most of whom were drinking, smoking, playing cards, or talking in hushed tones.

Lionel walked straight to the bar: "Good evening, sir. I'm sorry to bother you, but I've run into a bit of trouble. I've lost my wallet and I'm penniless now."

I need a few pennies for a meal, and then I need to figure out how to get to my friend's place. Could I do something for you in exchange for a small reward?

The boss stopped wiping the cups and looked him up and down.

Lionel's clothes weren't fancy, but the fabric and cut showed they weren't cheap, and he had a clean demeanor and spoke politely.

The boss squinted and asked, "Have you been to school?"

Lionel nodded: "Of course."

The boss stroked his chin, as if he had just thought of something: "Hmm, perfect timing. 'Old Pipe' Jim died suddenly yesterday, and nobody here reads the newspaper anymore."

Can you read the newspaper? If you read it well and everyone can understand it, I'll give you sixpence and a free dinner. How about it?

Reading the newspaper? That's an unexpectedly easy task. Lionel nodded in agreement almost without hesitation: "No problem, I'd be happy to."

“Okay!” The boss readily agreed, pulling a crumpled newspaper from under the bar and handing it to Lionel.

He pointed to an article above: "Read this first, it's fresh and hot right now! Find a quiet place and speak loudly!"

Lionel took the newspaper, glanced at its title—The Noisy Newspaper—and found a slightly better-lit corner to stand in.

He cleared his throat, unfolded the newspaper, and prepared to begin his temporary work.

However, when he saw the sensational headline and accompanying picture in the newspaper, his lips twitched involuntarily—"Sherlock Holmes braves Witch Island, cleverly solves the vampire mystery, and wins the heart of a beauty!"

Lionel: "..." He felt a sudden darkness engulf his vision.

But for the sake of sixpence and dinner, he forced himself to start reading:

"...The night was as dark as ink, and a mist hung over the Thames..."

Our brave and fearless detective, the esteemed Earl of Sherlock Holmes, is currently aboard his speedboat, the Justice, in pursuit of a suspicious cargo ship.

This cargo ship was not carrying ordinary goods, but ancient coffins from Transylvania!
Inside the coffin lay a stunningly beautiful, yet cursed, vampire bride…

The noise in the tavern gradually subsided, as many customers were drawn to the bizarre beginning.

Lionel suppressed his urge to complain and continued reading.

In this "novel," Holmes is completely detached from his role as a detective and becomes a dashing, skilled, and supernatural "Robin Hood."

He can not only hypnotize gargoyles with violin music, but also concoct silver bullets to fight werewolves using chemical reagents...

He was surrounded by countless noble ladies and mysterious women who were infatuated with him.

"The Earl of Holmes smiled slightly, his insightful grey eyes sweeping over every guest at the ball..."

Lionel read on, feeling his cheeks flush: “'The real killer,' his deep, magnetic voice rang out—

'It didn't use any complex machinery, but rather exploited people's deepest fears! And, a kind of alluring spice from the East.'

Having said that, he gracefully turned to the terrified Duchess beside him, 'Madam, you need not be afraid, I am here.'...

At first, Lionel stumbled and felt awkward reading it, but gradually he became more engaged.

This kind of purely entertaining "street stall literature" also has its own charm!

He began to add some intonation, imitating the tone of the characters in the story, and even deliberately paused at certain particularly exaggerated parts to create suspense.

"...In the blink of an eye, just as the giant bat monster swooped down and its sharp claws were about to seize poor Miss Mary!"
Earl Holmes strode forward, his cane—no, not an ordinary cane, but a magical weapon engraved with an alchemical matrix personally passed down by Sir Isaac Newton—

With a sudden swing! A blinding golden light…

The patrons in the tavern were completely captivated.

They put down their glasses and cards, watching Lionel intently, uttering gasps, exclamations, and laughter as the story unfolded.

This kind of story, full of excitement, adventure, and erotic elements, is clearly very much to their liking.

When Lionel finished reading the climax of this installment—

At the last moment, Count Holmes exposed the thousand-year-old lich disguised as the butler and lifted the curse on the vampire bride with a "true love's kiss";

Of course, he also received gratitude and kisses from the two beautiful women, the vampire bride and the duchess.

—A burst of enthusiastic applause and whistles erupted in the tavern.

"Well done, buddy!"

"That was a fantastic read!"

"Much more exciting than Old Pipe Jim!"

"One more!"

As Lionel listened to these praises, a sense of absurdity welled up within him.

But his amazing adventures in London have only just begun...

(End of this chapter)