The Great Demon Holmes
Chapter 36-40: Welcome Back

Chapter 36: Welcome Back

As Sherlock opened his eyes, he could no longer control his desire to explore the unknown that had been suppressed all day. He immediately sat up from the sofa.

At this moment, the room presented two completely different visual states.

In the areas untouched by the worms, the room remained an unshakable pure white... But in other areas, the textures of the objects in the room began to manifest.

A large patch of the white seal on the floor near his feet had been wiped away, and he could hear the faint sound of his shoes touching the wooden boards as he stepped on them. The marks of crawling were visible on the coat rack, and when he touched the armrest of the nearby sofa, he felt the familiar softness that had been there for many years.

The entire room gave a sense of gradually peeling away from the dream and blending into reality.

Just as he was still adapting to this sense of detachment...

"Howl~ Howl~ Howl~"

Suddenly, a sound came from behind him.

Sherlock was startled... This was the first time he had heard a sound from outside the room in his dreams.

Instinctively, he turned his head.

And then, he saw the window behind him!

The window was clean and transparent, allowing the bustling and grandeur of London outside to pass through the glass and into Sherlock's line of sight... The removal of the seal on the window allowed the outside sounds to enter normally.

He took a deep breath and slowly stood up, walking to the window to gaze outside.

Unlike the previous peeks through a narrow gap, this time he observed the dream world with an open perspective.

Blood, turmoil, and burning permeated the chaotic and insane atmosphere.

Sherlock had caught glimpses of these scenes before.

But at this moment, he couldn't control his excitement, trembling all over, and struggled to accept everything in front of him.

Because... he saw...

Demons!!!!!

In the blink of an eye, he saw a rotting corpse dog roaming the blood-red streets outside the window; a gigantic centipede with spiky insect limbs writhing and twisting in the shadows of a building; a grotesque creature resembling an anteater emerging from a pile of ruins, curling its thorny mouthparts and cruelly inserting them into the head of another demon next to it. The latter was slowly having its brain marrow sucked out, emitting pitiful howls.

Demons appeared in his dreams...?!

During the previous observation from the narrow gap, Sherlock could only see the distant scenery. But this time, he clearly saw the long street up close.

Apart from the demons, a bloody Baker Street was completely exposed... The same architectural style, the same facilities, the same horse carriage signs on the sides of the road, trash bins in the alleys, fences, road signs, gas lamps, and everything else that should exist in the real Baker Street, just like a mirror image.

However, everything was immersed in substantial decay and ruin, marked by ruins, bloodstains, distortion, decay, and chaos. Even the fog that descended from above seemed like ash burned to dust, and the sunlight, like blood pouring from the sky, took on a strange crimson hue.

Sherlock looked up...

The enormous and twisted sun still hung above London's sky like a demon, its countless tendrils wriggling. It seemed that if he stared at it for just one more second, he would be trapped in eternal madness.

Yes, just one second!

In that second, Sherlock's gaze penetrated London's bloody mist, pierced through the sky between the clouds, traversed the billions of kilometers of empty space beyond the heavens, and touched the sun that had long lost its normal form.

This time, there was no white seal protecting Sherlock in his surroundings. His entire being was exposed by the window!

Exposed to the sunlight carrying madness!

Thus, the sun finally took notice of him.

At that moment, Sherlock witnessed a scene that he would never forget in his entire life!

A crack slowly opened in the middle of the sun... Within the crack, countless blood-red tendrils intertwined with each other. The crack widened until a crimson eyeball opened amidst the writhing mass, its pupils exploding like countless nebulae, but converting all the light and heat into pure chaos, piercing directly into Sherlock's gaze!

It was a confrontation! The first contact between an evil celestial body or perhaps some other existence that Sherlock couldn't comprehend and a tiny human.

At least that's what Sherlock believed.

And in that moment, he felt his brain almost boiling, on the verge of catching fire, like the boiling city outside.

If it were anyone else, they would undoubtedly have collapsed in absolute despair at that instant, because they couldn't understand, let alone think, and could only allow the gaze from beyond to erode their sanity completely.

But Sherlock was different. As he had said countless times before, he was a detective.

He liked the unknown, the puzzles. His mind needed those incomprehensible things to fill it. He yearned to tear through layers of mist to glimpse what was hidden within.

The less he understood, the more excited he became!

So, at this moment, his mind involuntarily began to work, striving beyond its capabilities, shaking like a gnat against a tree but displaying an unparalleled audacity, arrogance, even pride! It wanted to analyze, decipher, and understand the madness behind this moment!

The next second!

With a loud crash!

He fainted...

Sherlock's body fell heavily by the window, motionless like a corpse.

However, his thoughts continued to restlessly churn, digesting and deciphering.

It was unclear how much time had passed, and it might have been that he had gone mad, become foolish, or simply broken down completely! But it was also possible that his thoughts had truly transformed all the madness into information he could understand.

In any case, within this unconsciousness, a voice slowly emerged in his mind.

Surprisingly, the voice sounded respectful, humble, as if bowing slightly before Sherlock:

"Welcome back..."

"Welcome back..."

"This time, have you figured out a solution...?"

Chapter 37: My Domain (Part 1)

When Sherlock opened his eyes again, two days had passed.

His head throbbed, as if he had a hangover, and his body felt weak and lethargic. The last image in his memory was facing the enormous eye in the sky.

After that... everything went blank.

He had blacked out. As for the humble voice, it became a dark area in his memory, leaving no trace whatsoever.

Sherlock shook his head, and judging from the rumbling hunger in his stomach, he realized he hadn't eaten for at least 48 hours. He got up and walked to the window. It was noon, and the sunlight, rarely seen, filtered through the mist, casting mottled shadows on Baker Street.

Good, at least he could confirm that he wasn't in a dream.

He leaned his head close to the tap of the cold water, gulping it down for a while, which made him feel slightly better. Then he opened the cupboard, intending to see if there was any leftover food from a few days ago that hadn't gone bad.

But as his hand reached towards the cupboard...

"Hmm?"

Sherlock paused.

Because he saw a shimmering trace around the cupboard... It was like the iridescence when gasoline mixes with water, but it disappeared in an instant.

Although he couldn't explain it, in the first second he saw this peculiar iridescence, he was certain that it was the trace left by his contract worm crawling in the dream!

"What's going on? Are the areas crawled in the dream being reflected in reality?!"

He quickly turned his gaze to other parts of the room and, indeed, those areas that were erased in the dream emitted a faint glow. During the time he was unconscious, it seemed that the worm hadn't been idle and had completely erased all the seals in the room.

This included the door...

Sherlock swallowed his saliva. Although his expression didn't show much disturbance, every muscle in his body instinctively tensed.

The seal on the door had been undone.

In other words... as long as he entered the dream now, he could push open the door and step out of this room that had imprisoned him for thirty years.

Not by breaking the window or smashing the wall barbarically.

But by opening a door, in a dignified and straightforward manner...

An unknown world was beckoning to him!

Sherlock's body began to tremble slightly, and every fold of his cerebral cortex started to cry out in excitement.

But at this critical moment... he took a deep breath.

Then calmly, he opened the cupboard, took out a leftover cornbread from a few days ago, sniffed it to make sure it hadn't spoiled, and then turned on the stove, which he rarely used, to heat it up.

"Take it easy, don't rush..."

He carefully soothed his nearly boiling thirst for knowledge.

Opening the door might be simple, but what would happen after that?

Would he be facing the demons on the street?

Clearly, as a human being, if he were seen, those demons would definitely go crazy and devour him, leaving nothing but bone scraps.

Sherlock wasn't foolish. Although the old priest had diagnosed his dreams as some kind of nervous disorder or other ailment, he was well aware that this was definitely an "Awakening Dream."

However, the form of the dream was somewhat unique.

For now... he didn't know whether this "uniqueness" was good or bad.

And he had no idea what would happen after dying in the dream. Would he wake up in reality?

Or would he die, his physical body in reality turning into a corpse?

All he knew was that he was absolutely unable to resist this temptation. He would eventually open that door. The desire to explore the unknown territory was like the most cruel addiction, corroding him at every moment. No matter how he struggled, no matter how he deceived himself, it was all in vain.

Therefore, he needed to formulate an action plan.

He slowly picked up the steaming cornbread, then began to eat, silently and attentively, crushing it with his teeth and swallowing it bit by bit, washing it down with enough water.

During this time, his mind replayed the scenes he had seen standing by the window, the types of demons roaming, the conditions around the street, where dangers could be concealed in shadows, which facilities could be used to escape, and so on.

After a full fifteen minutes, he finally formulated a plan that, while not 100% safe, was the safest course of action for the current stage.

Afterward, he returned to the sofa, found a comfortable position, and slowly... closed his eyes.

...

His brain was probably also eager for the moment when he pushed open the door, so he fell asleep quickly this time.

In the dream, Sherlock woke up and immediately directed his gaze toward the room's door.

As expected, the white seal on the door had completely faded...

He stood up and walked to the door, placing his hand on the doorknob and gently turning it.

The next second, the overwhelming desire for exploration broke free from its restraints. It gave him almost no chance to catch his breath before he forcefully pulled open the door!!

In an instant, scorching wind carrying eons of sand blew against Sherlock's body, enveloping the surroundings with a heavy scent of sulfur and blood.

Thirty years... Sherlock could finally step out of this prison.

He lifted his foot and stepped into the sandstorm... Just like outside the door in the real world, there was a staircase leading to the first floor. The layout was the same, except that the room where Mrs. Hudson used to live had been eroded by the sandstorm, and it was clear that no one was inside.

In fact, in this entire world, aside from countless demons, there was probably only Sherlock himself.

Step by step, he descended, listening to the creaking of the stairs under his feet, almost on the verge of breaking...

He slowly entered a boiling Baker Street.

And at the moment when his vision was finally unobstructed, allowing him to freely survey this strange world.

An idea that had long been brewing in his heart surged uncontrollably.

"Could this... fucking be hell?"

In order to avoid making eye contact with the crazed gaze in the sky, Sherlock didn't look up at the sun, instead quickly and cautiously stepping onto the long street... With each breath, he transformed all his senses into information, presenting them in his mind.

Temperature, sandstorm, sound, and the viscous air...

If this place truly was hell, then perhaps Sherlock was the only person to set foot in hell.

Oh, wait, there was once someone else who ventured into hell—the esteemed Dante, who had killed the demon of hell. Speaking of which, why hadn't Dante ever publicly revealed what hell was like after returning to the human world?

Perhaps he had depicted it before, but as a commoner, Sherlock was unaware...

Sherlock thought and observed, analyzing everything, walking along the edges of the buildings, fingertips brushing against the weathered walls, watching as the spalled particles disintegrated into fine sand, carried away by the winds of hell.

Everything around him held a deadly allure...

He wanted to rummage through the nearby ruins, see what was hidden in the dark shadows, walk down this small road to see the broader streets beyond the corner, and go far, far away.

However, this was ultimately not a tourist area! So, the anticipated danger... finally arrived...

In this scorching, bloody world, Sherlock, as a human being, was like opening a can of sardines in a tightly closed space doused with top-tier perfume.

The scent... couldn't possibly be concealed.

Oh, that comparison might be a bit off, but... demons hated top-tier perfumes and loved canned sardines!

So, at this very moment, an idle carrion dog suddenly raised its head. Its nostrils, which had already decayed into the skull, twitched, and then unbelievably turned its gaze toward Sherlock.

A human, a demon—thus they locked eyes across the streets of hell.

"..."

"..."

"Awooooooo!!!"

An unexpected but expected roar echoed, and the carrion dog, after rubbing its head, suddenly went mad and lunged toward Sherlock.

"Hey—"

Sherlock sighed helplessly, but he wasn't afraid. These carrion dogs were seen everywhere in the real world, and as long as you crushed their skulls and mashed their brains, they wouldn't get up again.

In fact, as long as their brains were mashed, most demons would obediently die. That's why Sherlock was so keen on bashing their heads—it gave him a sense of security.

However... in the next second.

"Awooooo—" sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ NƟvelFɪre.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of nøvels early and in the highest quality.

"Awooooooo!!!"

Several more roars resounded.

In the real world, because of the protection of holy light, it was almost impossible for demons of the same species to gather in groups. That's why Sherlock didn't know that carrion dogs were actually a type of social demon, often roaming in groups of three to five.

Anyway, with this howl, nearly identical sounds came from at least three directions, followed by a chaotic rush toward Sherlock.

"Excuse me."

The desire for exploration couldn't be abandoned, but if he were to confront a group of demons from hell right now, it wouldn't be sacrificing himself for the sake of exploration—it would just be pure stupidity.

Fortunately, he was prepared for this situation. During his journey here and his observation from the apartment window just now, he had already determined that there was no place nearby where large-sized demons could lurk. At least in the 15 seconds it would take him to run back to the apartment, there shouldn't be any demons suddenly jumping out to block his way back.

So, first return to the apartment, close the door, and see if that room could still keep the demons out like before. Even if it couldn't, he could quickly calm down, spend three to five seconds, and wake up in the real world.

No time for talk, Sherlock immediately turned around, increasing his speed to the limit, and dashed along the same route he had come.

And the carrion dog chased after him!

In an instant, the 15-second distance was covered. Sherlock rushed into the apartment... Unexpectedly, the dog behind him wasn't slow and managed to keep up!

"Well, it looks like I'll have to take care of you first..." He sounded rather apologetic.

His thoughts were interrupted!

The carrion dog had rushed over, opening its blood-drenched mouth, ready to take a bite of the rare delicacy in front of it. In the process, its paws unavoidably crossed the threshold of the room...

Or rather, it stepped into Sherlock's domain, the area where the contract worm had crawled.

In an instant!!!!

"Hmm??"

Sherlock frowned. He had already prepared himself to crack open the dog's skull, but suddenly realized that the carrion dog in front of him had frozen.

Um... it was a bit strange, but this demon, which had its mind clouded by appetite just a second ago, stopped the moment it entered the room!

Actually, it wouldn't be entirely accurate to say it stopped. Sherlock could see that its body was trembling violently, as if it had stepped on something it absolutely shouldn't touch, giving rise to fear beyond reason and instinct.

It wanted to escape, but it couldn't.

The emaciated body emitted smoke from the scorching heat of hell, drifting faintly in the small room. The carrion dog's mouth, full of sharp teeth, split open, and one eye, due to decay and its previous mad dash, had fallen out of its socket, connected only by a thin nerve, dangling near its mouth.

It struggled to maintain a fixed position,

Sherlock had a strange feeling that if demons had sweat glands, this poor little thing would already be drenched in cold sweat from fear.

It was this peculiar intuition that deepened Sherlock's frown. He didn't know what had scared the demon into such a state.

He leaned forward... even waved his hand near its mouth.

However, the carrion dog no longer had any desire for the fresh flesh and blood of a human. It just trembled and whimpered, like a fly stuck to flypaper, only able to accept its own death with fear and misery.

Chapter 39: My Domain (Part 3)

Sherlock continued to observe for a while, and with his observation and analytical abilities, he could clearly see that the dog had been startled by some kind of force when it stepped into the area where his contract worm had crawled.

But he couldn't understand the reason behind it...

Curiosity got the better of the detective, and he slowly extended two fingers... and then pinched the dangling eyeball of the dog in front of him.

He exerted a slow pressure~~~~

The carrion dog immediately trembled violently, emitting faint moans from its decaying throat. It was evident how agonizing it was to have its eyeball toyed with, but it still didn't dare to move.

With a light "pop" sound, Sherlock directly crushed the eyeball...

The dog's body shuddered, but it remained motionless!

Sherlock pondered for a moment, then inserted his hand into the eye socket... forcefully crushing the fragile cartilage, reaching the brain marrow, and gently stirring.

The dog's single eye turned white, and one minute later, it collapsed in pain, completely devoid of vitality.

Throughout the entire process, it still didn't dare to move even a fraction, as if its not-so-intelligent brain kept reminding itself not to move, not to provoke a terrifying existence, or else... something more terrifying than death would happen.

"Hisss... What the hell."

Sherlock scratched his head, keenly realizing: Could it be that the area where his little worm crawled possessed some kind of [Domain Effect]?

Before he could settle his thoughts, the footsteps outside grew closer.

It was probably because he had entered the domain that the demons outside couldn't smell him anymore, or for some other reason.

In any case, the other carrion dogs that had been attracted by their companion's roar seemed unable to find Sherlock's location. They lingered outside for a while before finally discovering their target.

These creatures didn't have much brain left, and upon seeing their companion's corpse, they didn't realize that something was amiss. They just barked frantically and swung their jowls before lunging toward Sherlock.

There were three of them in total, the first two relatively intact and much faster. In an instant, they rushed into the room.

The result... was the same as their unfortunate predecessor just now. The moment they set foot in the room, they suddenly froze in place, their eyes staring straight ahead as if they had witnessed something absolutely terrifying.

Meanwhile, the third, weaker one, with one leg rotting up to its buttocks, hopped up the stairs in a "three-legged jump" manner due to its slow speed. Since the two previous dogs blocked most of the space at the door, the last dog didn't charge in but stood at the doorway, with only one extended claw vaguely touching the edge of the domain, grazing past it.

However... with this seemingly insignificant touch, it instantly! Made it feel the most horrifying and bone-chilling gaze it had experienced in its entire dog's life!

Gaze!

It had no idea what was staring at it. All it knew was that with a slight glance, its soul boiled with despair and fear.

Without thinking, the carrion dog turned around to flee.

Perhaps because it didn't fully step into Sherlock's domain, or perhaps it had overcome the oppressive aura from the depths of its soul. In any case, it ran away, completely ignoring everything and dashing madly in a direction it didn't know and definitely didn't care about!

But in the next second of its escape...

A tentacle!!

Descended from the sky!!!

Yes, it descended from the sky!

Or to be more precise, it should be said that the sun hanging in the sky had some kind of displeasure toward this miserable and weak demon on the ground. It waved one of the thousands of tentacles it possessed, traversing an unknown distance in an instant. It pierced through the vast dark abyss of the universe, piercing through the atmosphere, clouds, smoke, and scorching flames over the boiling city, descending to the surface in a way that was absolutely unimaginable in people's perception.

If measured from the visual perspective, that tentacle must have been as thick as a mountain range, with a diameter reaching tens of thousands of kilometers. However, upon its actual arrival, it discovered that the tip of the tentacle was so delicate.

Delicate enough that it accurately and unerringly inserted itself into the head of the fleeing carrion dog!!

In an instant, the carrion dog began to convulse violently, enduring indescribable despair and pain. It was as if its body couldn't bear the pain for a moment longer, and it tried, deluding itself, to use brute force to separate itself from its own head!

But it ultimately couldn't succeed.

That tentacle, strange and grand, descended in an instant, and in another instant, retracted from beyond the heavens, carrying away this wretched demon.

Sherlock stared blankly at the scene.

Since participating in the enfeoffment ceremony and establishing a connection with that useless little worm, his dreams had undergone earth-shattering changes, giving him unprecedented shocks with almost every sleep!

Therefore, after witnessing the scene that was completely beyond rational comprehension, Sherlock surprisingly didn't show a shocked expression for too long. He... accepted it quite easily.

He just pondered curiously, wondering if the dog was really taken to that terrifying sun in this way? If so, what would it experience?

Furthermore, why did this phenomenon occur?

Could it be that the sun in the sky... was helping him?

And in those few seconds of contemplation...

His contract worm seemed very happy and content as it crawled toward the dead carrion dog's body.

And then...

It burrowed into the empty eye socket...

Chapter 40: Who's the Proper One to Contract with Demons? We Just Enslave Them Directly

"..."

Sherlock watched the behavior of his contract worm and a peculiar association formed in his mind. However, he didn't know whether this association was good or bad.

That is... if everywhere his contract worm crawled created a domain, then... what did it mean for it to crawl into this carrion dog's corpse?

Could it create a domain within the corpse as well?

As time passed, second by second, Sherlock's eyes grew wider.

Because he unbelievably sensed that there was a certain connection between himself and the carrion dog's corpse!!!

It was similar to the connection between himself and the contract worm, and it was becoming clearer and clearer.

The worm... was assimilating with the carrion dog!!!

Sherlock rubbed his face. He realized that his knowledge was still lacking, whether it was about demons, awakened dreamscapes, or even hell. In any case, the books available on the market couldn't help him understand everything that had just happened.

In fact, even the clergy within the Vatican would probably be dumbfounded if they encountered what he had seen and heard.

Oh, speaking of "what he had seen and heard," at this moment, Sherlock naturally summarized all his recent experiences in his mind:

First, he seemed to have truly dreamt of an entire world, and this world was very likely hell.

Second, there was a sun in the sky above hell, covered in countless tentacles.

Lastly, his contract worm seemed to possess a certain domain, which had some kind of connection with the mad sun in the sky. As a result, any demon that tried to escape the domain would be attacked by the sun.

With these thoughts, Sherlock finally glanced at the two dogs that had remained motionless from the moment they entered the room until now. These two pitiful creatures had likely been enduring the torment of extreme fear from beyond the heavens during this time.

Anyway, since they didn't move, whenever they went insane, it would be considered their own problem.

Sherlock affectionately patted the dog's head, as if encouraging a lovable pet.

Just then...

A faint "gurgling" sound suddenly came from below. He lowered his head and saw his contract worm crawling out of the eye socket of the corpse.

The little creature seemed very happy and content, wriggling its chubby body on the floor.

Such twisting and contorting behavior was normal for a worm, but after experiencing so many bizarre things, Sherlock's mind instinctively began to entertain some "unconventional" possibilities.

He watched the worm's twisting and contorting form, furrowed his brow, and recalled his first sight of the sun when he looked up at the sky over London.

Countless tentacles surrounded that eyeball...

However, his focus now wasn't on the eyeball but on the tentacles...

Those pitch-black, sticky, wriggling tentacles!!!

Sherlock bent down, picked up his contract worm with his fingers, and as he did so, the useless worm became so frightened that it played dead and lay flat.

Perfect. This allowed him to observe it more closely.

It still had a black-gray body, about seven to eight centimeters in length. It felt somewhat soft, as if slightly sticky. The "head" was slightly thinner, while the "abdomen" was relatively plump. However, regardless of the position, Sherlock couldn't find any organ that could be called a "mouth," nor did it have eyes or anything else that a worm should possess.

The more Sherlock observed, the clearer his idea became. Although it wasn't strange for a demon worm to have an unusual appearance, not having a mouth was unacceptable. After all, demons couldn't survive solely through photosynthesis.

Could it be that his contract demon worm wasn't really a worm?

But rather... a segment... of a tentacle???

"Hoo... It seems things have gone beyond imagination," Sherlock muttered softly. Then he placed the little creature in his hand back on the ground and sat back on the sofa, deep in thought.

After a few minutes...

"Hahaha—this is how life should be."

...

...

In the real world, Sherlock woke up leisurely.

He had obtained a lot of information in the dream this time, enough to excite his mind for a while. So, he didn't rush to continue exploring.

That's how it was—to encounter problems, think about them, solve them, and then turn the problems into chips for his continued exploration of hell. That was the best pace.

Sherlock was very happy, even humming a tune.

Oh... despite this detective's messy lifestyle, he still had a bit of artistic sense. When he was young, he even played the violin from time to time.

However, on one occasion, when he stuffed the head of the instrument into the throat of a robber who barged in, accidentally breaking the strings, he never touched a musical instrument again.

He stood up, stretched lazily, and prepared to go out to get something to eat. It had been several days since he had a proper meal.

But just as he stood up...

"Hmm?????"

A peculiar sensation suddenly surged from the depths of his heart, similar to the feeling he had when he first summoned his contract demon at the monastery a few days ago.

But as mentioned earlier, Sherlock had experienced so many strange things during this period that even a sudden peculiar feeling like this seemed insignificant to him.

So he simply followed this sensation, waved his hand, and a rift in space opened in the room.

Then...

A carrion dog crawled out of it.

...

____________.

From now on, this novel will be updated only on Sunday. Every Sunday, 10 chapters will be updated at once.

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