Sherlock Holmes and Scarlet Rosevelt, who stop before the minefield, saw a tiny shadow rushing through the minefield safely. It's also just as fast as Watson, that's not the speed Sherlock Holmes or Scarlet can catch up.

"Watson, seize him!" Shouted Sherlock Holmes.

If chasing at the top of his speed, Watson will catch up with a mysterious figure in seven seconds, but next seconds, the clouds came upon the moon. A small shadow turned towards him. The face stared ferociously with a movement that could not be ignored. Something went to Watson.

"hmm..."

The silver-haired man caught it before the object pins his forehead. So, it pricked his hand with a different touch than when hitting a bullet or a knife. But no matter what it was, Watson did not take his eyes off or stop his footsteps chasing the mysterious person. He saw a frightened expression on a small face that was different from a human face. Then the face looked over his back and made the same moves again. The same object flashed past Watson's face.

The fraction of the time that the clock cannot measure. Watson's processing said the object's target was Sherlock Holmes's head, and only Watson could stop it. Which if he took his eyes off the mysterious figure now, he would never catch up again. Sherlock Holmes's command was to have him arrest that person, but now the detective is in great danger.

Between 'Follow the order' or 'Save life'.

Watson spun, kick one's feet to the ground until the ground collapsed, then storm back. By jumping forward, Watson reached for a mysterious object that was about to hit Detective Holmes's head.

"Watson ..."

Sherlock Holmes saw Watson fell sideways with both hands clenching his fist.

"What happened?"

Sherlock Holmes looked at the tiny figure disappearing into the darkness. Then he crouched on one knee and looked at Watson's both hands. A moment ago, he saw Watson grabbed something mid-air, but he didn't know what it was because it was so dark.

"Are you okay?" Holmes asks

"I failed to follow the orders," Watson said, staring at Holmes.

"But that's because you have a reason, right?" Sherlock Holmes said, weary Watson's stick to orders.

Watson opened both hands. There is a black tapered stick the size of a dart. One end is pointed, the other is round. His blood flowed from both hands. Before the special fibers recovered, one of Watson dolls' special abilities was to heal wounds.

"...poison huh" Sherlock Holmes narrowed his eyes and contemplated without touching. Then took out a handkerchief and Watson put a sharp dart down. He carefully wrapped it up and asked further.

"How do you feel?"

"I have been tested for a lot of poison resistance. But this kind is quite strange," Watson considers the hand-wound. Before responding with a smooth face, "But soon it fine."

"Watson, thank you," Smiled Sherlock Holmes. "You choose to come back and save me. Even the villain escaped, but that wasn't the failure. I've said that, right? A partner is someone who will help each other. It is nice that you value your partner over orders."

Watson is eyeing Sherlock Holmes without saying anything.

At that time ...

"Mr. Holmes, Is Mr. Watson alright!?!"

Scarlet Rosevelt ran after. Sherlock Holmes told her to wait far away. But she was seeing them both sitting on the ground didn't move.

"Everything is fine," Sherlock Holmes rose first. He stepped up to prevent Scarlet from seeing the recovering of the Watson doll.

"Let hurry; look at your brother."

Running back to the spot where the wooden sign Redmond had shot down, The Servants, Osborn, Travis, and Seamus waited with anxious expressions. No one dared to walk through the landmines towards Redmond.

"No matter shout, master didn't reply at all," one maid reported.

"Outside the house is dangerous. Everyone other than Miss Rosevelt, please go back and wait inside," said Sherlock Holmes.

Then Watson led Sherlock Holmes and Scarlet into a separate house. The door is locked from the inside. Watson snatched the door until the bolt was broken, in a manner that looked like he had just pulled the friction door. Even though it seems a bit openly, Scarlett, only worried about her brother, doesn't care.

Scarlet squeezes through Holmes and Watson, running toward the room where the signal lights were projected. The room's door was open, lanterns lit up on the side table, and a handkerchief fell on the ground.

On the floor, a man is lying on his back, not moving.

"REDMOND"

Scarlet screams, about to rush.

"Watson held her!"

Sherlock Holmes ordered in a resolute tone, take his eyes off the one open slide-up window where a mysterious man escape. He stepped past Scarlet's locked by Watson, who was still struggling to see her brother.

Holmes carefully stepped into the room. Redmond Rosevelt's face appeared before eyes, suggesting no need to hold onto the wrist to find the pulse. Hazel-colored eyes, like a sister, unnatural wide. The head of the eyebrows frowned tightly. Tearing lips into a wide grin look like happy, but rather distorted face. Redmond's entire body twists bizarrely.

Sherlock Holmes used a magnifying glass to look at Redmond Rosevelt's corpse. There is a black dart on the occiput the same that hit Watson. That's what he thinks, after learning that the villain used a poison dart as a weapon. He already knew that it too late to save Redmond's life. Sherlock Holmes stood up before walking up to Scarlet. He took off his hat and bowed his head.

"Miss Rosevelt, I'm truly sorry your brother has passed away. This was the scene of the murder. I can't let you in." Having to share the bad news with their family always deeply hurts him. "I'm sorry for not being able to save your brother."

The lady's body stopped struggling, a beautiful face showered with tears. And when Sherlock Holmes nodded Watson to let go. Scarlet collapsed on the floor, clenched her fist, wailing, calling Redmond's name non-stop.

He let the lady cry for a few more minutes, then spoke softly.

"Miss Rosevelt, please stay calm," said the detective, lowering himself to the same eye level.

"Look at me, Miss Roosevelt, look at me, take a deep breath, exhale slowly. Now, I'll have Watson take you out of the separate house. Tell others, let everyone, including all servants, go to the living room. Do not come out because the bad guys are still outside. And don't walk through the mines, I leave you to send someone to call the police. Can you do it?"

Scarlett bit the lip; she knew this was not the time for grief. She nodded in tears and allowed Watson to take her out.

When Watson returned, Sherlock Holmes spoke with an eye that completely changes from comforting Scarlet, the eyes of detective.

"Alright, now we have some time before the police come." The black eyes were sharp and extremely enthusiastic. "The first clue is the footprints of the villain."

Holmes raises a lamp to reveal a footprint that looks like it had just stepped on black soot. He knelt and took a tape measure to measure the footsteps. Then use fingertips to smear a black stain to consider

"Hmmm, this footprint can tell you a lot. What do you think Watson?"

"It is a small footprint that clearly shows the toes, which means that guy doesn't wear shoes. The one who escaped was small. Must be the same person."

"Watson, you right at that villain doesn't wear shoes, but look carefully at the footprints. Do you see that the fingers are separate from each other? The index fingers to the little fingers of the common people are aligned," said Sherlock Holmes, "and this black mark is ashes. The villain entered through the fireplace chimney. Before escaping through that window."

The young man pointed, then picked up a lamp and a magnifying glass, knelt to explore through the separate house. Sometimes he would take out a small case or a test tube with a cap and take back the floor's debris. Handsome faces are almost sticking to the floor. His expression changed from thought and wonder to joy as if he had discovered something. Then came back to look at Redmond's body, taking out two black darts from handkerchiefs,

"Appears rigor mortis abnormal fast, hmmm, poison ... "

Sherlock Holmes muttered to himself. Then close his eyes and let himself flow along the waves of concentration.

Cut himself off from everything around...

The image of the door appeared in the inference.

The place arises inside the head.

He opened the door ...

That was a room full of books on the shelves. Each floor lined up to fill the space.

He stepped in, deep into the room ...