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 ...

Where is the toxin acting on the musculoskeletal system?

He was searching and found it on a shelf close to his hand. He took the book and opened it. Numerous names jumped from the pages of the book, surrounding him.

No, not this one, not this one too...

Yes, poison from alkaline vegetables. Like strychnine. It's this thing.

He smiled.

Both darts that were self-sharpened one by one use a blowpipe in an assault. With this type of poison, it's not something that can be found in England. When combined with the character of the villain

He turned to the other side. There was a book waiting for him.

'gazetteer'

When he opened the book, the appearance of the various peoples rose up. He considers options that fit into

Indians, although they are not tall, they are not Hindus. Their feet are longer, um ...

Native people of the Andaman Islands, average height is less than 4 feet, ugly appearance, big head, small eyes, dark skin, small limbs, toes apart.

Agile and powerful, fierce personality, irritability, impatience, and stubbornness, but if they trust and be friendly, they will be loyal and faithful.

Often raids on sunken ships, the survivals of the ship were hit on the head with a rock. The secret weapon is poison darts. The bodies of the crew taken for cooking.

Hmmm, are we dealing with a brutal villain?

He smiled, returned the book, and walked out of the room.

The first scene when opens his eyes is a rather low and unfamiliar ceiling.

Sherlock Holmes blinked a few more times and then realized that Watson held his right hand. The silver-haired man stare while using his fingertips to check his pulse.

"Holmes!"

"Watson, how do I ..."

He mumbled and fell silent when he realized that this was an empty room in a separate house.

"All of a sudden, you fell," Watson said, "not looking like a faint. The pulse is normal. But no matter I call, you won't wake up."

Even though Watson spoke in an emotionless voice, his face as still as usual, Sherlock Holmes felt something different this time.

"I'm sorry for making you worried."

Watson blinked about to say the word, but Sherlock Holmes explained first.

"I'm not sick. It's... like falling asleep. It's one of the ways I investigate. I call it a 'memory library'. It's like a library in my brain where I store a lot of information. When I entered the memory library, often will be like this."

The detective then told about his deduce of the villain he had in mind in the memory library to Watson.

"Since the villain is human and not the devil, why did he has to kill Norville Malcolm and Redmond Rosevelt too."

Sherlock Holmes raised his doubts, and it was then that Livingston's voice shouted from outside.

"Mr. Holmes, what happened!?! You have been there for a long time. The police are coming!"

"I think there is nothing left to tell us here. But check it a few more times and then go out."

After that, Sherlock Holmes and Watson left the separate house to the main house. Explaining the cause of Redmond's death and the villain who escaped. Everyone's countenance was sorrowful and terrible. The servants cried.

The most worrying person is Scarlet; even though her face is pale at a faint level every minute, she still straightens her back, relying on her strong heart to stand up.

Not long before the local police arrived. A young police officer who happened to be on duty tonight. Knowing that he had to go through a landmine to check the scene, he almost fainted. Seeing Redmond's horrible corpse, he really fainted.

That night, Sherlock Holmes and the rest of the guests were spent one night at the Rosevelt House, to wait for another Scotland Yard to interrogate.

....................................................................

The next morning ...

Scotland Yard, an experienced one in charge. He ordered to clear the mines off the ground, then interrogated them all one by one.

"Mr. Sherlock Holmes, I have heard of your reputation. Let's make it clear. Even if you are the detective they hire, but the murder that happened is Scotland Yard's work. Please don't cross the line."

"Understood."

Sherlock Holmes answered in a clear voice and does not open his mouth to talk about matters other than questions at all

"Three-quarters of Scotland Yard didn't like me," he whispered to Watson. The face was not frustrated but rather fun. "And I like less than half of them who like me. Because of that, I won't give any clues that can get them to solve the case."

Watson was listening quietly. Look at Sherlock Holmes talked to Osborne and Travis. If follow what Holmes said, if Scotland Yard had 12, there would be 9 of those who didn't like him, and of the 3 who liked him, Sherlock Holmes liked only one of them.

"I will be staying at the Rosevelt house. Originally it was agreed like this. Even in the current situation..." said Osborne, turning his gaze to Scarlet, who was seated neatly, straightening her back further away.

"... I can't leave Miss Scarlet alone."

"Young Master decided to stay here." Travis said, the man's face hid disagreement. He also did not understand why Seamus insisted on staying where the disaster occurred, but he did not object. Travis stared at Detective Holmes and bowed his head.

"If the villain targets the four heirs, Mr. Holmes, you are the only hope. Please solve the treasure map puzzle quickly."

"I will do my best. After this, Watson and I will go back home. Everyone, please be careful, don't be alone. When it gets dark, don't go out."

Sherlock Holmes repeats one last time. When Redmond was killed, all of them were in the billiard-room. Scotland Yard allowed Sherlock Holmes and Watson can go home.

....................................................................

The carriages run through the grasslands outside the city, towards the lively London. Before stopping at Baker Street.

"I'm back, Mrs. Hudson. So hungry, do you have some to eat?"

"I am owner of the house, not your own cook." Mrs. Hudson poked her face. Her small figure and childish face made her look like a spoiled kid than a fierce aunt. "If today I don't accidentally want to try making curry, the two of you have nothing to eat."

"Indian curry?" Sherlock Holmes walked into the kitchen, looking at a simmering Indian curry, smelly strong of spices. The young man turned to look at Watson and secretly pulling a wry face. "It seems spicy ..."

"Oh, Sherlock, an hour ago, Inspector Lestrade came. He left a message on the table."

"Thank you, Mrs. Hudson."

There was a scribbled note on the table, Norville Malcolm home address and a short message...

'No map and key in the house.'