Surviving as a Writer in the British Empire

The Dog of the Baskervilles

“I am leaving work. Have a nice weekend everyone!”

“You worked hard, Jimmy!”

“Good work, Chief James!”

A trading company in London.

Manager James came off work as energetically as he had in recent months. No, my steps were lighter than usual today.

‘Today is finally…!’

Of course, it would be nice if it was payday… but this day is just as good as that once a month.

It is the regular publication date of ＜Strand Magazine＞.

A dignified Londoner, a savvy Sherlockian, and recently a member of the Hansleyan, his spending would nearly double his usual on this day every month.

In fact, it would not be an exaggeration to say that the reason for saving this month was only for this day.

Missing the publication of ＜Dawnbringer＞ How could it be!

With that in mind, he went into the bookstore he and some of the novel fanatics frequented.

It’s a little remote, but rather, it was a good place to get books with excessive competition like ＜Strand Magazine＞.

‘Really, the last time was the best!’

Unexpectedly, the new rival, the detective and warrior of light, Lightray, was a former friend of Gottfried Wilhelm von Leibniz and a childhood friend of Edmund Earhart. The sight of two warriors defending the peace of London competing without knowing each other’s identity was like watching Hannibal and Scipio.

Indeed, it completely satisfied the thirst that was created by the death of Sherlock Holmes…

‘Is it really like that?’

For a moment, James thought.

Of course, Dunbringer is fun.

It was a powerful work that had enough charm to become a signboard of ＜Strand Magazine＞ in itself.

In fact, isn’t that why he’s so enthusiastic?

Edmund Earhart in ＜Dawnbringer＞ made his heart beat and made him look at the back alley with curious eyes.

That’s why he recently bought a useless but nice left-arm vape that Nuels started selling.

But if you ask me if it tastes exactly the same as ＜Sherlock Holmes＞… that wasn’t it either.

Myths and legends, the heart-pounding battles that advocated a unique world view were good.

However, Holmes, who makes cool-headed judgments while inferring and describing the criminal’s actions, and Watson, who is like licorice, puts in a heavy moment. Because there was no atmosphere of such a weighty reasoning.

No matter how delicious whiskey is, if you want to drink a sharp beer, another way. It’s similar in that you get drunk when you eat, but how can the two be the same?

‘hahahaha, I can’t help it. England’s pride, Sherlock, is already dead.’

He too is now accepting the stage of resignation. But I was feeling it at the same time. He said that he would live with this bitter longing for the rest of his life.

With that regret in mind, he tried to enter his regular bookstore.

That is, it did not come in.

He stopped, rubbed his eyes, and checked the propaganda placard in the bookstore window again.

─Arthur Conan Doyle new arrival!

Arthur Conan Doyle.

The beer craftsman James was most desperately looking for right now.

He might like it, but his reaction was the exact opposite.

“Damn it, doing that nonsense again! I guess I’ll have to gather the members again and start a boycott!”

That would also be the case, because the most recently released novel was a historical novel that lacked even the slightest bit of fun.

Can’t you be angry when a beer craftsman doesn’t roll beer, but suddenly makes grape vinegar to make wine?

When Stoke Football Club, a club he supported, were relegated to last place a few years ago, he wasn’t too upset.

‘Ah, it’s going to be a Molotov cocktail…’

However, the text below it.

─Sherlock Holmes is back! A new feature, ＜The Dog of the Baskervilles＞ is published!!

“feature length······!?”

It forced my body to move.

Oh, I can’t stand this!

James hurried into the bookstore. There, other regulars were already reading books with more enthusiasm than usual.

It was pointless to separate himself from them any longer. Because James was already one with them.

and after a while

He finally came out of the bookstore as a victor with his new book, The Dog of the Baskervilles.

And as if it was a waste of time to run home, I went to a nearby cafe, ordered a cup of coffee I didn’t know the name of, and slowly opened the book.

There was a writing similar to that that I had been chewing on a while ago.

＜“Mr. Holmes, those were the tracks of a great hound!”

The moment I heard those words, I felt a shiver run through my body.

As if he was deeply shaken by his own words, Dr. Mortimer’s voice was also trembling. Holmes also leaned forward, probably excited. His eyes were shining brightly.

“Doctor, did you see the footprints?”

“Just as much as seeing Mr. Holmes now. I saw it for sure.”

“Are there many shepherd dogs in the wasteland?”

“of course. But, Mr. Holmes, I have been to quite a few parts of the world, and I can assure you that there is no such dog. It was, it was — a dog’s footprint, so large that it shouldn’t be in the world.”＞

“Oh, oh oh…!”

I’m back.

finally back! The great Guardian of London he remembers. A cold-blooded torture detective.

Their cold but friendly neighbor had finally returned.

Of course, the background is 1889. Long before Sherlock Holmes fell from the Reichenbach Falls, in fact, rather than being resurrected, the previous content was released… but what does that matter?

For now, it’s even more fun to read the new adventures of Sherlock Holmes.

Besides, this little one in particular.

‘fun······! Much better than previous works!’

I knew that Arthur Conan Doyle’s features are of higher quality than shorts.

But this time ＜The Baskerville Dog＞ was more interesting.

For example, Sherlock only appeared in the first and second half of this work, and John Watson was in fact in charge of the middle part, where he confronted all sorts of mysteries and uncovered the case.

It’s not going anywhere that John Watson is wrong, but it was quite impressive to see him actively fighting by making good use of the fact that he was a former soldier.

In addition, other Sherlock Holmes series features were set in foreign countries such as the United States and India.

Of course, the scale is smaller than before. It was purely set in Dartmoor, England, but James was able to immerse himself more as an Englishman because of that.

And above all… there was something that gripped him at the climax.

that’s right.

***

“Shh, be careful. come!!”

Holmes exclaimed. I unwittingly loaded the pistol.

There was a faint but constant sound of running through the masses of the rolling fog.

The fog was gathering less than fifty yards from where we were hiding.

I saw Holmes’ face. His face, though pale, was elated, and his eyes were shining… until it appeared.

─Kong! I’m sorry!! kong!!

I grabbed the pistol with a frozen hand and jumped to my feet. The terrifying figure protruding from the fog made me almost shoot myself without realizing it.

It was a huge black hound.

However, Lord.

It was not a hunting dog seen in this world.

Blue flames erupted from its bared-toothed snout, and its eyes emitted smoke and burned red. It looked as big as a lioness.

I assure you, there is no beast more ferocious and ferocious than that savage and ferocious figure that appeared through the fog.

I noticed the beast pursuing Sir Henry. could never tolerate it.

Is it the spirit of a soldier who has been dormant since Afghanistan, or the courage to protect Sir Henry’s life as a friend? Anyway, I was pulling the trigger of the revolver before I knew it.

Taaang!!

The beast howled terribly. It looks like a hit. When the dog turned its head towards me, one eye was dripping blood with courtesy smoke.

It was surprising to me as I stepped forward that Holmes——he could make that sound, too, but yes. He called my name as if screaming.

“Watson!!”

“Holmes, go with Lestrade!! Leave this to me!!”

“but!!”

“Come on! Shouldn’t we catch Stapleton!!”

After thinking for a while, the sound of Holmes running away, whispering that he would believe me, reached my ears.

Okay, I muttered under my breath.

“I also had a dog. so i know You are just a beast.”

I interpreted the dog’s howl as ‘pain’. It was washing away my fears. If the dog is hurt, Lord. It meant that it was not a ghost, but a product of the Lord.

If so, I might kill you.

I calmly glared at the bleeding dog.

how much time has passed Did Holmes arrest Stapleton? I miss Mary. Did Sir Henry escape well? Hyung… The moment those arrogant thoughts passed through my head in a very short time.

the dog ran

I pulled the trigger.

“Ugh!”

It was fortunate that the recoil pulled his arm. If it wasn’t for that, that hideous dog that dodged the bullet would have raged my head along with the hat.

Having rolled over once, I calmly tried to aim for the dog again. But that devil’s product was faster. I immediately wallowed with the monster.

“This bastard!!”

I waved my hand, grabbed the fallen hat, and crushed the dog’s head. Luckily, that side was where the dog’s one pupil was.

The dog with a terrible howl backed off.

I then grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and climbed back. Finally got the mount. It seems that the formal wrestling learned in the army was still useful. And, one last time, he fired a shot into his brain.

The sound of gunfire hit my ears, and finally, after a few terrifying dog paws, there was silence forever. Blood was pouring from a hole in the middle of his head.

As I let out a sigh of relief, Sir Henry Baskerville approached me.

“Doctor Watson!! Are you okay? My God, what the hell is that?”

“Whatever this is, rest assured. It is dead now.”

“okay. You have completely defeated the ghost of House Baskerville!”

Sir Henry’s sparkling eyes were burdensome. I smiled and looked at the dog.

The size of the dead beast in front of us made it clear that it was not a hunting dog of an ordinary breed. It was savage, skinny, and unusually large. It was like a hybrid between a wolf and a lioness.

In particular, blue flames were rising from its huge snout even though it was already dead and not moving. I put my hand on the muzzle, enduring discomfort.

Soon, the flame began to rise in my hand as well.

From noble mtl dot com

“It is a phosphorescent substance. Cunningly, it was thoroughly prepared.”

“I can’t believe it, who the hell would do this…!”

“well. I am very curious as well.”

I frowned. No matter how much I am a doctor specializing in human beings, biology tells me that humans and animals are not very different in structure of flesh and bones.

These creatures were not normal.

I examined the huge beast’s body. When the black fur was peeled off, a small tattoo appeared to be visible on the side.

A capital letter M at the beginning, followed by a series of numbers.

What is this? I wanted to know more, but Sir Henry’s body came first. Actually, I wasn’t very normal either.

And I couldn’t help but regret it later.

At this time, I should have heard Holmes properly about this M and the series of numbers.

About the man who is Britain’s worst criminal and the center of a great evil.

***

“It’s awesome······.”

Charlie, a child too young to be called a young boy… his eyes lit up as he listened to ＜The Baskerville Dog＞ recited by the daycare teacher.

Charlie, soon to be 6 years old, loved books.

Hanslo Jean, Arthur Conan Doyle, and Lewis Carroll. They were magicians of stories that no one could say did not shock a child.

This daycare center was not a typical facility. It was a daycare center established by the ＜Alice and Peter Foundation＞ founded by Lewis Carroll and Hanslo Jean.

And as the purpose was to ‘break down illiteracy’, of course it had quite a few books for a daycare center.

Thanks to that, Charlie was proud of his abundant reading for the second son of a poor female singer who worked at a bar, and he was growing his dream.

“Hey, are you going out there again?”

“You won’t. You are too young.”

“I will do it anyway.”

What Charlie is holding tightly to is none other than the Savoy Theater’s open poster for the recruitment of a minor role in ＜Peter Perry＞.

No matter how small you catch it, it’s a small role that you can enter only from the age of 10, but did you know? How could even a 6-year-old be so lucky to get in?

Charlie, a house watch boy from an underprivileged background, thought so while clutching at the poster.