freenovelworld Chapter 108: Foxes Are Always Good at Deceiving
Chapter 108: Foxes Are Always Good at Deceiving
At this moment, history was being reshaped.Aiwass keenly felt the pulse of [History].
The glimmer of “possibility” throbbed powerfully in his grasp.
He remembered clearly—in the original storyline, Sherlock was never attacked so violently.
Even years later, when Sherlock vanished entirely, the incident where his father, Arthur Hermes, was framed remained unsolved.
The name “York Hermes” never appeared in the main plot.
Aiwass was confident of this.
Though he skipped most story cutscenes while playing, he followed player forums and watched lore analysis videos to catch up.
Given Sherlock’s popularity among players, his uncle York Hermes would’ve sparked discussion if he’d appeared, especially after Sherlock’s disappearance.
No one ever mentioned him.
As a high-ranking member of Lloyd’s Society, Avalon’s largest gang, and legal advisor to , York was tied to the Noble Red Society and the alchemical bomb case.
He carried significant secrets.
Even in a timeline where he didn’t try to assassinate Sherlock, York was no mere bystander.
He was linked to Lloyd’s Society, the Noble Red, the Minister of Trade, and likely the royal curse, possibly even the Hawkeye Organization.
Every event in version 1.0 intersected with “Lawyer York.”
Aiwass suspected York was silenced or killed by another group before attempting Sherlock’s assassination, explaining his absence from the player’s perspective and main storyline.
He was a critical breaking point, possibly the weakest link in the conspiracy chain.
Since Sherlock’s brief probe into Lloyd’s Society forced York to try silencing him, York’s position must be precarious.
The reason York acted so swiftly was clear to Aiwass.
The biggest divergence from the original plot was Aiwass mentioning the “Sweater Brotherhood” in the dream.
“Sherlock, calm down and listen,” Aiwass said.
“We don’t need to investigate your uncle York Hermes.
Let’s switch perspectives.”
Imagine this:
Sherlock Hermes—Glass Island’s famed detective, Inspectorate’s chief consultant, and nephew of Lloyd’s Society executive York Hermes—without evidence or a formal report, abruptly teamed up with Inspector Edward to raid a hidden abandoned factory in Lloyd District, a stronghold no one had ever uncovered.
At that time, the Sweater Brotherhood hadn’t started stealing corpses from Gallows Square.
They were indistinguishable from the smaller Strangler Parties controlled by Lloyd’s Society, unremarkable in every way.
By chance, the factory was stocked with alchemical bombs smuggled from Star Antimony, ordered by the Minister of Trade via the Noble Red Society.
“If I were a Lloyd’s Society executive, what would I think?”
Aiwass interlaced his fingers, cradling his teacup, his tone calm and measured.
“I’d assume York Hermes accidentally leaked secrets while trying to recruit you.
Your direct report to the Inspectorate proves another thing—you know Lloyd’s Society has moles within it.”
“I see,” Sherlock said, grasping it instantly.
“When I went to Edward, I wasn’t sure if your intel was true.
I brought him to check it out.
We didn’t expect such a major find.
Edward and I are close; even if I tricked him, he’d just tease me a bit.”
Sherlock stood, pacing the room, speaking rapidly.
“To me, Edward’s a trusted friend.
But to Lloyd’s Society, he’s Glass Island’s Inspector.
As an Inspectorate consultant, I bypassed them to go straight to the Inspector, without notifying the Inspectorate.
That suggests I know Lloyd’s Society has infiltrated the kingdom’s upper ranks.”
Sherlock stopped, turning to Aiwass in his wheelchair.
“Gaining both pieces of intel at once points to York Hermes as the leaker.”
Aiwass nodded.
“So, if he can’t recruit you, he has to kill you himself to prove he hasn’t betrayed them.”
“That’s why he acted personally,” Sherlock murmured, standing still in thought.
He leaned closer, lowering his voice.
“I’m tweaking my plan, Aiwass.”
“What was your original plan?”
“Simple.
Test if he’s the culprit—though that’s unnecessary now.”
Sherlock explained, “Bishop Mathers said your holy sword is unusable, meaning you lack combat ability.
I didn’t plan to involve you in the riskiest part—his capture.
My funeral’s tomorrow morning; Uncle York will attend.
My brother Mycroft, the only family member who knows I’m alive, is sharp and reliable.
To make my parents’ acting convincing, they weren’t told.
I meant to use the funeral to lower his guard.”
“Then what?” Aiwass asked.
“Lure him out and kill him?”
“Roughly,” Sherlock nodded.
“I have a backup intelligence stash at a place I frequent—a real safehouse, not a last-minute setup.
It holds my genuine findings on Lloyd’s Society.”
Aiwass quickly grasped it.
“You want him to make another move.”
“Yes,” Sherlock said gravely.
“He’s too cautious.
In public, he’s always with one or two Arbiter friends.
Uncle York loves ‘hunting’ talented youths, befriending them sincerely when they’re beneath him.
When their potential blooms, he leverages them for protection.
“His targets aren’t just youths but also those in trouble.
As a lawyer, he encounters many such people.
Take Inspector Gordon, from your news article.
When Gordon retired, his family faced a messy lawsuit.
York resolved it, arranged his job, even starting him as deputy director at the Inspectorate.
Gordon would’ve landed well without him, but York leaves a strong impression.”
[An angel investor,] Aiwass realized.
No wonder Sherlock felt stuck, and why Gordon, a rigid old knight, shook his hand so warmly.
York was a true socialite of high society, a lesser version of Professor Moriarty.
Flawless, untouchable unless he acted first.
Even with evidence, his connections might shield him from conviction.
If Aiwass got intel from him, letting him go would only bring trouble.
Aiwass narrowed his eyes.
Conveniently, he’d taken two potent poisons from that assassin lady.
One could cause a natural death.
“Your plan’s flawed,” Aiwass said softly.
Sherlock didn’t argue, frowning in thought.
“You’re worried he’d send a subordinate or friend to retrieve it?”
“Your thinking’s too rigid, Sherlock.
The Path of Authority’s made you forget that thugs don’t play by rules.”
Aiwass’s voice was low and eerie.
“If I were your uncle, would I risk fetching my own incriminating evidence or let a subordinate or friend glimpse my true face?”
“He could silence them,” Sherlock added.
“Possible, but risky,” Aiwass countered.
“They could check it secretly, keep a piece, or blackmail him.
Their ‘friendship’ is superficial, based on connections, not loyalty.”
Aiwass half-closed one eye, speaking softly.
“If I were him, I’d never let anyone touch deep secrets.
Silencing is just ‘damage control.’
The safest move?
Have the Noble Red blow up your safehouse, destroying the evidence physically.”
“Your plan’s unreliable and could endanger you and Edward.
Time for something new.”
As Aiwass spoke, Sherlock felt a chill, as if the gentle, smiling young man in the wheelchair, sipping milk tea, radiated danger.
Unlike Edward’s cold, silent menace, Aiwass’s polite, warm demeanor was somehow unsettling.
A strange familiarity struck Sherlock.
Then it hit him—Aiwass was like his adoptive father, Professor Moriarty.
Sherlock froze, coughing awkwardly to mask his surprise.
“My new plan: tomorrow, as ‘Sherlock’s friend,’ you get close to him.
Maybe pretend to join Lloyd’s Society.
Do what you must, but get him alone.
Then notify Edward for the capture.
Act fast, before it gets messy.
The longer I’m ‘dead,’ the harder it is to return.
By my next advancement, my survival might leak.
“I’m not great at acting, especially in the Dream Realm, where instincts take over.
We have three weeks at most, ideally two.”
Sherlock patted Aiwass’s shoulder.
“I trust you can do it.
‘Foxes’ are always good at deception.”
He stressed [Fox] heavily.
[You didn’t care when you were drunk, but now you’re sober and fixated?] Aiwass thought, grumbling inwardly from his wheelchair.
But this was his forte—charming trust quickly.
[Don’t worry, I’ve got this.]