Miss Holmes, the Professor Is Not a Villain

249 – 3 years later (7)

It was an era that would later be called the Industrial Revolution. It was a time when the rivers were always so dirty that it was difficult for fish to survive, the sky was full of smoke instead of clouds, and lifeless people wandered the streets.

It was a time when countless people worked in factories under pain, but at the same time, they lived under the illusion that they belonged to a country that was rapidly developing. Their beliefs themselves may not be wrong. Their country was becoming an empire.

A few years ago, Her Majesty the Queen of England officially became Emperor of the Indian Empire, so they were clearly living in an age of empire.

Reason and progress were considered natural virtues. Of course, someone may have sarcastically said that reason and progress are emphasized because they are lacking above all else.

Even amid such illusions of development and progress, ironically, the night still did not belong to people. Of course, lanterns were still lighting up the streets at night, and intellectuals in the London Salon were talking about the vain delusion that they even controlled the night.

But everyone living in London had no choice but to avoid the night.

Scotland Yard unofficially announced that security in London had stabilized compared to before three years ago, but no Londoner was naive enough to believe this. If you were a citizen like that, you would have long ago become a victim of crime while wandering the streets at night.

Of course, it was true that a large criminal organization had disappeared. Although it was never officially acknowledged in the opinion of some high-ranking people and Mycroft Holmes to minimize confusion, the criminals of London knew that the monarch who once reigned over them had disappeared at some point.

The group that lost their leader dispersed or were captured by Scotland Yard. There were only two options for those who were captured. Either disappear into the dew of execution, or be exiled to a colony instead of punishment. No longer had bail or legal representation from the mysterious magnanimous figure of the past, and many of the biggest criminals disappeared from London for three years.

But the night was still dangerous. Not only were prostitutes trying to make a living and drunkards with no regrets about life roaming the streets at night, but many criminals were also active to avoid the sun and police officers.

Bam was once a friend of James Moriarty.

Of course, he was a person who despised people’s stereotypical prejudices as stupid. The idea that criminals are usually active at night was clearly a prejudice.

Murders could happen in broad daylight, and some of the crimes he had once consulted on, such as his nephew’s crime of seeking his uncle’s inheritance, were carried out calmly in broad daylight.

But at the same time, he was a king who reigned over many criminals, and much of his secret work was obviously done at night.

But for James Moriarty, night was his companion and friend, and of course, the time he ruled. It was foolish to be afraid of the night.

He was not a child, nor was he a coward who was afraid of the night.

He thought so.

But the night was no longer James Moriarty’s friend, and for him, who had now been reduced to nothing but a loser, night was the most fearful time.

“Porok.”

James Moriarty unknowingly called the traitor who was standing next to him as if watching him.

The father, who had been spending time with the children like a loving father or someone who had learned to do so, suddenly turned pale.

His ‘wives,’ of course, any educated person would be astonished, wondering if they were Turks, and although they had no legal relationship, this was the case right after James Moriarty’s wives disappeared into the children’s room with their respective children.

Fred Forlock pretended not to hear and just closed his eyes. Although he had no particular grudge against the professor, he couldn’t help but sympathize with his old boss without realizing it. He didn’t know exactly what would happen to him, but he instinctively did.

Even Fred Forlock, who was not a lustful man but who, unlike the ascetic professor, lived his life appropriately quenching his desires, could not do anything other than sympathize with the man.

Moriarty no longer spoke to Porok, who ignored her own words. In the first place, he had already given up on everything.

He would never admit it to himself, but he sat silently on the sofa, as if it was ingrained in his body that this was where he needed to be, and that he had to remain with those women.

There were no shackles on his feet now, but he did not move. He didn’t even try to escape. He already remembered everything except his body.

How much time has passed? I didn’t check the time, but in reality, quite a long time must have passed.

Moriarty was able to confirm that Fred Forlock, who had been tidying up the empty table with awkward gestures, had already finished tidying up, albeit awkwardly.

And then fearful footsteps were heard, and soon three women came to him.

“Amy… f*ck… ….”

Fred Forlock cursed softly from a little distance away. Of course, as soon as he caught Moran’s gaze, he ran away.

He probably escaped to his servant’s room located on the lower floor.

But Moriarty was able to fully understand Porok’s reaction.

All three women had already finished preparing for sleep. If you were an idiot who didn’t know anything, you might have swallowed your saliva while feeling the boiling desire without even realizing it.

When viewed objectively, three women who were beautiful, but more appropriately described as seductive, stood in front of Moriarty, as if surrounding him.

Although she was wearing a gown, a lot of her inner skin was exposed, so on the outside she looked like someone who would be shocked by the British people of this era who emphasized morality and abstinence.

Moriarty smiled bitterly.

I imagined that the street farmers would be more chaste than you, laughing at them and ridiculing them for despising lewd animals.

Yes, I just imagined it. Because he had already surrendered his body and mind.

At one time, perhaps when he was still under the illusion that resistance was possible, he attempted resistance.

Of course, Holmes covered his mouth with his lips and imprinted pleasure into his body, and Moran, who was from the streets, mocked his master who could not even swear properly, and Watson said that he was even more excited by that and harassed him even more that day. It was.

After that, he offered no resistance.

“Teacher, you have to go.”

“Are you not even able to stand up on your own, master?”

“Today is a day for us all to be together. Let’s get ready quickly, Professor.”

“… Okay.”

Without force, Moriarty got up. Moran and Watson walked together, each holding his arm, as if to support him.

Holmes glared at the two for a moment as if his place had been taken away, but then he patted his stomach and took the lead.

Moriarty trembled involuntarily. As I walked to their new bedroom, I could already feel his caressing hands.

In particular, Watson was already subtly massaging his butt with an obscene touch. What was most terrifying of all was that, as if trained on her, she felt an unpleasant sensation that gradually escalated without her knowledge.

We were able to arrive directly at the couple’s new bedroom. While Moran was carefully closing the door to avoid waking the children, Holmes, who could not control his desire, pushed the professor onto the bed.

He felt his back hit the bed weakly, but Moriarty couldn’t help but let out a moan of a different meaning.

In the meantime, Watson took off his pants and started massaging his penis and balls, which were still only half erect, as if tickling them.

Of course, in the meantime, Holmes kissed Moriarty like a child and began licking and sucking his tongue with his own tongue like a candy.

“Chuck…… Jjuup…… Well… Tsk! hehehe, your body is honest as expected, isn’t it, Professor? “You’ve accumulated a lot over the years. Do you like it here?”

“Huh… ! Under… summer solstice… Whoop! Tsk… that… Sigh…… Ugh…… !”

“It’s noisy, honey.”

“Jjon! “Squawk!”

Three women were faithfully performing their respective roles, rushing towards Moriarty, as if lionesses who had successfully hunted were rushing to tear their prey from all directions. No, they poured out their desires.

Moran, who joined him late, took off his top as if tearing it halfway and played with her breasts, exploring her old master’s pleasant spots and caressing her nipples.

Meanwhile, Holmes was licking his lips and tongue, and Watson began sucking his glans and penis, which were now stiff and starting to get wet.

Head-burning pleasure struck James Moriarty again. The sensation he hated so much took control of him again, sending him into a hell of pleasure.

More than anything, he now instinctively lusted after women who lusted after him. At some point, the empty hand was coveting someone’s large, soft breasts and nipples.

And finally, as wetness and warmth intersected, the stimulated penis became stiffer and the feeling of ejaculation increased.

But at that moment, Watson quit as if he were managing, and Moriarty sighed softly in pain without realizing it.

“You should pack it inside, Professor. We already have a second child, Holmes, so it’s not fair! “Today is the first time in a while that I’ve been gambling. Will it be a safe day or not?”

“Stop talking nonsense and decide the order, Watson.”

“If you faint like last time, it will be a big problem, so everyone should adjust accordingly.”

“It was because of you, Holmes. By the way, you have a child, is that okay? “Can’t you just give in this time?”

“You’re noisy, Watson.”

Moriarty, who was still panting in pleasure and just listening to the women talking about him, was not allowed to do anything other than just lie quietly on the bed.

And before we knew it, the order had been decided, and Holmes quietly grabbed his genitals with one hand and climbed on top of him.

It was an end worthy of a loser.

He knew. He was already a loser and today’s defeat would be repeated in the future.

The hell of the night, along with the women he ruined, tormented Moriarty that day as well.

Of course, it may have been my own thought. Like futile resistance.

That night, Moriarty’s moans, filled with endless pleasure, mingled with the moans of others.