Becoming Professor Moriarty's Probability

Several weeks after Inspector Lestrade and Watson left London with Charlotte, bound for America,

“Hey, Holmes. So, how did you end up exchanging letters with that person, anyway?”

“... Letters?”

“All I told you was the surname Adler mentioned and a few details about them...”

Now walking through the streets of Providence, Rhode Island, Watson glanced at Charlotte, who wore a cold, detached expression, and posed the question.

“Now that you mention it, I’m curious too. Even with all my police connections, I couldn’t track them down. But you managed to find them in just a few weeks...”

“It wasn’t much.”

Charlotte responded with a nonchalant look as if it were hardly worth mentioning.

“A reclusive personality, voyeuristic tendencies, a penchant for tearing down others’ work under the guise of critique, and a love for horror fiction— it’s not hard to guess what someone like that would be up to.”

“Ah...”

“So, I went through a year’s worth of review archives from American magazines. It didn’t take long before I narrowed down a few likely suspects.”

“You combed through all of that in just a few weeks...?”

“I’m more surprised that there were several people fitting that personality.”

Lestrade and Watson exchanged looks of surprise at Charlotte’s words, for entirely different reasons.

“Anyway, among those suspects, was there someone named Lovecraft?”

The inspector, her curiosity piqued, asked with raised brows.

“... No. There wasn’t anyone by that name.”

“What? Why not?”

“It’s obvious, isn’t it? Do you think those pathetic types would use their real names when spewing their venom disguised as critiques?”

“Fair point... that makes sense.”

Hearing her explanation, both Watson and Lestrade nodded in agreement.

“Then how did you figure out which one was using a pseudonym?”

“People like that usually do it to seek attention. So, I pieced together a critique, cobbled from their own opinions, and sent it out to magazines across America. Soon enough, I started receiving replies.”

“Ahh...”

“At first, they all responded under aliases, of course. But I played the long game— I humoured their nonsense and fed their egos just enough. Eventually, they all showed their hand.”

Charlotte’s lips curled into a chilling smile as she murmured, pulling a letter from her coat.

“That’s how my target took the bait a few weeks ago.”

“Impressive. Even after a two-year absence, your skills haven’t dulled one bit.”

As she glared frostily at the letter, Lestrade offered quiet praise from the side.

“... Let’s not bring up those two years.”

“Ah, right.”

However, as Charlotte’s expression instantly darkened, her chilling aura palpable, the inspector quickly clamped her mouth shut and averted her gaze from the detective.

“”.........””

And so an awkward silence descended between them, suffocating the surroundings.

“... That aside, we’re almost there.”

Breaking the stillness, Charlotte, quietly leading the way, narrowed her eyes and began slowing her pace.

“The address from the letter was somewhere around here. It’s likely close by...”

“... Huh? Isn’t that it over there?”

At that moment, Watson, her eyes widening, came to a sudden stop and pointed towards a hill in the distance.

“... Looks like we’ve found it.”

Following Watson’s gaze, Charlotte spotted a pristine-looking mansion atop the hill. A sinister smile crept onto her face as she turned her steps toward it.

“Um... girls?”

“”...?””

“Are we seriously heading there right now?”

Just as Charlotte and Watson began moving toward the place that had been the root cause of Adler’s disappearance, Lestrade’s voice called out from behind them.

“Yes, we are. Why?”

“Do you think... someone can actually live there?”

“...What are you talking about? It’s the only place around here where someone could live.”

Watson shot Lestrade a puzzled look, clearly questioning her odd remark.

“But... well, no matter how you look at it...”

“What’s wrong with you? Did you eat something funny?”

“... Never mind.”

Seeming unconvinced, but keeping her uneasy expression, Lestrade reluctantly began trailing behind them.

“........”

Charlotte watched her for a moment, her gaze lingering, before silently turning her head and resuming her steps.

“So, what do we do? Should we knock? But we’re here to ambush them...”

“... Technically, we’re here as invited friends, so it should be fine.”

A few minutes later, they arrived right in front of the mansion.

“Really? Then...”

“... Doesn’t seem like knocking’s going to be necessary.”

Just as Watson, having debated for a moment, moved to knock on the door, Lestrade, her brow furrowed, stepped forward and reached for it first.

“What? But—“

- Creeeak...

“Huh? Wait, it’s not locked?”

As the door gave way effortlessly under Lestrade’s hand, a startled look appeared on Watson’s face.

“... Let’s go in.”

“W-Wait a second. Isn’t it a bit premature to pull out a gun already?”

“We can’t afford to be unguarded in a place like this.”

Ignoring Watson’s protest, Lestrade already had her pistol in hand as she stepped inside the mansion. Watson hesitantly followed her in.

“... Why are you so tense? It’s just a clean, ordinary mansion.”

“You call this clean and ordinary?”

At Watson’s remark, Lestrade turned to her with a bewildered expression, responding flatly.

“As a doctor, I thought your sense of hygiene would be higher than the average person. Was I mistaken?”

“No, I mean, what are you...”

It was then, as Watson trailed off, that she began to realise that something was terribly off.

“... Inspector.”

“Yes, Miss Holmes?”

“Tell me... what does this place look like to you right now?”

Charlotte, her sharp eyes scanning every corner of the room, asked the question in a low voice.

“What does it look like? It looks like a ruined, crumbling wreck.”

“What?”

Lestrade glanced around, her tone tinged with disgust as she answered Charlotte’s question, prompting Watson’s eyes to widen in disbelief.

“But to me, it looks like an ordinary house.”

“... Same here.”

As Watson muttered, unable to comprehend what was happening, Charlotte gave her a quiet nod of agreement.

“However, there’s one thing we’re overlooking here.”

“We are? What is it?”

“The Inspector’s curse.”

“Ah...!”

At Charlotte’s words, Watson clapped her hands together, her expression lighting up with sudden understanding.

“No supernatural abilities or anomalies ever affect the Inspector. So...”

“... The true nature of this place is only visible to me, then.”

“Correct.”

“Wait, then this place... it’s not normal, is it?”

Hearing that, Watson shivered and instinctively hid behind Lestrade, feeling a chill creep down her spine.

“B-But didn’t all the supernatural phenomena disappear after the incident two years ago...? Why is something like this happening now...”

“Oh my, who are you?”

“... Eek!?”

Watson, trembling and muttering nervously, yelped and curled up in fright at the sudden sound of a voice nearby.

“... We’re friends of Lovecraft. We were invited.”

“Oh my word, my daughter has friends?”

“Are you her mother, by any chance?”

Meanwhile, Charlotte, keeping her composure, greeted the woman who had appeared with a smile and a polite question.

“Yes, Lovecraft is in her room on the second floor.”

“Ah, then...”

“Please, take a seat on the sofa. I’ll bring her down.”

The woman, who had responded kindly, offered them a warm smile before heading upstairs.

“”...........””

A brief silence thus followed.

“... Urgh.”

Suddenly, the sound of retching echoed through the room.

“Blegggh...!”

“L-Lestrade?”

Inspector Lestrade, her face uncharacteristically pale, leaned forward, gagging and clutching at her stomach.

“What’s wrong? Are you alright?”

“T-That just now... That thing...”

“What?”

Watson, worry etched across her face, patted Lestrade’s back as she struggled to catch her breath.

“That thing... I was the only one who saw it, wasn’t I?”

“W-What thing...”

“... The thing that just went upstairs.”

Lestrade’s chilling reply sent a wave of cold dread washing over Watson, her face growing pale as beads of sweat began to form on her forehead.

“What... what kind of place is this...”

“........”

Amidst the growing tension, only Charlotte remained composed, her sharp eyes fixed intently on the second floor.

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Meanwhile, on the mansion’s second floor,

“Hah... hah...”

Good. Now, it’s time for the final step.

“... The final step?”

Lovecraft, slumped over her desk, gasping for air, stared at the ominous message that appeared on her notebook with unfocused eyes.

“Drawing the magic circle... wasn’t the end...?”

The most critical step remains.

“W-What... what is it...?”

The commanding words in the notebook barked her incessantly.

Pour precisely 4.444 ounces of your blood onto the magic circle.

“Wh-What!?”

Horrified, Lovecraft shot up from her seat, stammering as her hands trembled.

“N-N-N-N-No way!!! Why... why does it have to be my blood!?”

Do you not wish to regain power? You’re the contractor. Your blood is required.

“C-C-C-Can’t it be someone else’s blood? Huh?”

The writing in the notebook seemed to show the irritation of the person on the other side.

For someone with no friends to lend them blood, you’ve got a lot to say.

“S-Shut up! That’s not true!!!”

Lovecraft screamed, her voice cracking, as if fighting off a tantrum.

“I-I-I have friends!!!”

Imaginary ones?

“No! Real ones!! I exchange letters with them, and they even promised to visit soon!!!”

Hmm...

“I-I mean, technically I invited them unilaterally... well, they never really replied, but...”

Her voice began to trail off, growing smaller and smaller.

“B-But they’ll come for sure... maybe...”

Her voice dwindled until it was as faint as a whisper, like the hum of a distant insect.

- Creeeak...

“... Lovecraft.”

“Eek!?”

Suddenly, her bedroom door creaked open slightly.

“I-I told you not to open my door without permission...!”

“There’s a friend of yours downstairs...”

“W-W-W-What!?”

Startled, she clutched her notebook to her chest, ready to shout again, before her eyes widened in shock at its words.

“I’ll put the kettle on... Come down when you’re ready...”

“...!!!”

As it turned and walked away, something wet dripping from its form, Lovecraft stood frozen in place for a moment, trembling.

“S-S-S-See? I was right, wasn’t I?”

Haaaah...

“I do have friends!!!”

With a bright smile blooming across her face, she threw the notebook onto the desk and darted toward the dusty vanity table in the corner of the room.

“Hehe... Mr Sherinford...”

Look, just finish the magic circle first...

“I bet they’re a dashing and wealthy young gentleman...”

Oh for the love of the ancients...

Completely ignoring the notebook’s writing filled with exasperation, Lovecraft clumsily began putting on makeup, blissfully unaware of what awaited her downstairs.

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Meanwhile,

“... Huh.”

Isaac Adler, hidden in a nearby bush with his three loyal subordinates, was carefully observing the situation unfold.

“Why... why are they here...?”

Breaking into a cold sweat, he stared at Charlotte, Watson, and Inspector Lestrade through the mansion’s window, his expression one of growing unease.

“... This isn’t how it’s supposed to go.”

As always, his carefully laid plans were beginning to break apart... again.