Chapter 428
An Unqualified Spy
At two in the afternoon, a large gryphon with multicolored feathers, carrying two adults and a child, slowly landed in the backyard of Watson’s Detective Agency.
“Thank you both so much.” Detective Watson wiped his sweat and thanked Haina and Sherlock repeatedly. “Without your help, I fear I would have died last night. Please, stay for a meal.”
Haina gently stroked the gryphon Liz’s head, her heart aching. “You should thank Liz too… I never knew she could actually carry us back.”
Liz had not yet fully transformed into white feathers, meaning she was not yet an adult. A journey that would take an entire night by steam train had been flown back in one go, with her carrying two adults, a child, and two people’s worth of luggage.
“—Thank you too, Miss Liz.” Watson bowed respectfully to the gryphon, who was only a head shorter than him.
Liz shook her head from side to side and let out a clear, hawk-like cry, clearly pleased. She couldn’t speak yet, but she understood human language.
Little Sherlock, standing with his arms crossed, suddenly chimed in, “Actually, that weight isn’t much for her. Gryphons are meant to carry fully armed adult males for long distances… Clearly, Haina, you don’t weigh much more than armor and weapons combined. Don’t spoil her too much. You wouldn’t buy a bicycle and then carry it around because you don’t want to ride it, would you?”
Liz let out an angry squawk at Sherlock. Although he couldn’t understand the meaning, it was probably an insult. Haina quickly soothed her beloved gryphon, hugging it and making indecipherable cooing sounds like one would to a child. She truly adored her gryphon. She had known it for less than half a month, and already she was doting on it excessively.
“There’s no need for dinner,” Haina replied with a smile after calming Liz. “If you have any fresh meat, you can give some to Liz, and then some water. We’ll rest here for a bit and then we must hurry back… If we’re fast enough, we might even make it back for New Year’s Eve.”
“Ah, yes, yes. Miss Liz, please come with me…” Saying this, Watson led the small gryphon, who was puffing out its chest proudly, into the house.
Haina then turned to little Sherlock and asked in a low voice, “I’m planning to go home. What about you?”
“…What about me?” Sherlock retorted.
“Didn’t you send a letter home?” Haina glanced at Watson’s retreating back and lowered her voice to press further, “Saying you wouldn’t be home for New Year’s this year…”
“Yes.”
“So what are you going to do now? Rush back home? Or go find Eivass?” Haina sounded concerned. Being alone on a lively Glass Island for New Year’s… it sounded terribly lonely. Even Haina, who wasn’t very social, felt a chill and a sense of isolation like falling snow just imagining it.
“There’s no need,” Sherlock said coolly. “New Year’s is just a holiday. I don’t even feel like going out tomorrow… It’s rare to be back, wouldn’t it be more comfortable to rest at home and read a book?”
“Speaking of which, don’t you have any female acquaintances?” Haina asked curiously. “Your good friend, Mr. Edward Moriarty, is already married. Eivass probably is too… In all these years, have you really never been in love?”
She had wondered about this for a long time. But before, her relationship with Sherlock wasn’t as close, and she hadn’t dared to ask. Although Sherlock wasn’t the type to lash out in embarrassment, being stared at with a look that treated her like trash would be very upsetting. Now that they were more familiar with each other, she finally dared to ask at what seemed like a suitable time.
“No,” Little Sherlock replied coolly, pulling down his newsboy cap.
“Why? Is there no opportunity?”
“Because a detective’s greatest enemy is their own emotions.” Little Sherlock said calmly. “The Path of Love is too emotional, chaotic, unfathomable, and irrational for me. To avoid affecting my judgment, I have taken a vow of lifelong celibacy.”
“Is that a vow you’ve made?”
“You could think of it that way.” Sherlock sighed. Seeing Haina’s genuine curiosity, he explained a bit further, “The Path of Wisdom is a path of solitude and selfishness. If devotion is about benefiting others, then wisdom is about benefiting oneself. If love is emotional, wisdom is rational. A balancer seeks results and meaning, while a wise person values the process more. A person who is selfish, impulsive, and doesn’t seek meaning is difficult for the world to understand. Because of this, walking the Path of Wisdom is destined to be solitary. When two devotees meet, they usually have common ground; when two artists meet, they become each other’s inspiration. —But two wise individuals can never walk the same path. Although unlike Transcendent beings where they are competitors; at least, to each other, they are strangers. Even if they are of the same path, they will never become companions who can stay together until old age. If that is the case, it is better to distance oneself from the beautiful things that will eventually shatter. This is the choice a wise person would make,” Sherlock replied.
However, at this moment, Watson’s voice suddenly came from inside the house, “I think… perhaps not necessarily.” He walked out, looking at Sherlock, whose gaze had suddenly turned cold, and smiled innocently, holding up his hands. “I really wasn’t eavesdropping, my ears are just rather good… the sound just came to me. Um, I don’t know how old you really are. But at least I think, a wise person doesn’t necessarily have to stay away from emotions.”
Watson used himself as an example. “Did you know, my father was a Magelord, and my mother was a Child of the Moon from the Path of Love. They are still very much in love… He’s a Fourth Tier Archmage, and even has a chance to ascend to the Fifth Tier. Even such a mage fell in love with someone else, didn’t he?”
“…Hmph.” Little Sherlock merely snorted, responding sharply, “That’s why you are an illegitimate child, Mr. Watson. Your birth was not met with eulogy and recognition.”
“No,” Watson replied calmly. “I think precisely because I am an illegitimate child — it proves that my birth was the crystallization of pure love. Because both my father and mother could have terminated my birth; and my birth would not have brought them any benefits, only trouble.” He felt no rejection towards his origins and even smiled as he spoke. “And precisely because I am an illegitimate child, I was able to come to Avalon. Because I don’t represent anyone… other than the blood flowing in my veins and my surname, I have nothing directly related to my father. In that sense, isn’t this also my good fortune? I was born out of love, into a wealthy family, with loving and powerful parents. Yet, I don’t have to bear any forced obligations, because I have nothing to inherit, and therefore I don’t need to carry any expectations that I cannot bear.”
Watson spread his hands, stating frankly, “I am indeed not a qualified mage, let alone a wise one. I’ve lived this long, and my Path of Wisdom is only at the Second Tier.”
*You came to Avalon not because of freedom, but because you are a spy.* Sherlock opened his mouth, wanting to refute him. But these things were not suitable to be said directly.
Then, he suddenly realized… his father could send him here on a mission, and use his own influence to entrust someone to protect him, wasn’t that also a form of love?
…Can a mage also possess love? This made Sherlock’s thoughts momentarily stall.
Seeing the newsboy falter, Watson smiled with satisfaction. “After hearing your accounts before, I have a changed impression of Mr. Eivass. After putting aside my old prejudices, I can now fully understand that he is a great person. So, I hope that you, Arthur, can also put aside your prejudices. Go home for New Year’s with your family.”
Watson said sincerely, handing Sherlock a box of exquisitely wrapped pastries. “These were what I planned to eat for New Year’s. As thanks for saving me… please take this home with you. Don’t worry about losing face by writing that you wouldn’t be home for New Year’s and then suddenly returning. As long as they are family, they won’t really care about such things. Your family will surely be happy if you bring these pastries home.”
Watson even conservatively used the word “family” instead of “parents,” as he didn’t know if “Mr. Arthur Conan Doyle” had living parents, fearing he might inadvertently touch a sore spot. While there might be many loopholes in his deductions, he was very considerate in matters of human relations.
*You are truly not a qualified spy, let alone a qualified detective,* Sherlock thought. His reason for not going home was partly because his relationship with his family wasn’t very good… but more so because explaining his current childhood form would be troublesome, and he disliked explaining. It had nothing to do with the letter at all. Watson hadn’t noticed the sense of incongruity about him at all, let alone seen through his clumsy, almost unconcealed disguise. No wonder, as a spy, he had received full protection from the Inspection Department.
… But as a friend, this idiot is alright to keep around. Mr. Watson is an unqualified spy, but he is a good person.
Sherlock glanced at him and finally sighed with resignation. “Alright… but I must solemnly remind you both that I am not homeless. I am not disliked to that extent. At least I have somewhere to go for New Year’s.”
For example, Bishop Mathers’ house. Sherlock added in his mind. He should be able to take me in… probably.
But after being brought up by Watson, a new thought occurred to Sherlock—he wanted to know if his parents could recognize him in his child-like form.
“Then, you two,” Little Sherlock lowered his cap brim again. “Goodbye… I’m going home.”
