"Have you reverted to being a caveman?"
The door swung open instantly, sending a gust of wind through the doorway, making Kasenhis roll his eyes as he adjusted his hat.
"Take a look at this. Let me reintroduce you to something called… a doorbell. Have you forgotten how to use it?"
Sherlock, wrapped in a blanket, stared at Kasenhis, then oh-so-helpfully stuck out a hand from under his blanket to point at the doorbell.
"When are you finally going to put some proper clothes on? Looks like no one's reported you for public indecency while I was gone…"
"Because this is my house."
Sherlock finally stepped aside, allowing Kasenhis to enter the apartment.
"Am I supposed to say 'thank you' now?"
"Well then— thank you SO much, oh great Sherlock Holmes."
Kasenhis flopped onto the sofa, setting the bottles of wine onto the coffee table.
"You absolutely SHOULD be thanking me—because any normal person would've just refused to let you in. Also, don't even think about touching my stuff. It will NEVER appear on your desk. Not as long as I'm still alive."
Kasenhis, feeling a bit awkward, placed a small statue back onto the shelf.
"Alright, fine. Here, try the wine I brought."
"I don't like it. Take it away."
Sherlock swiftly snatched the bottles, shoved them into the cabinet, and closed it immediately.
"…You could've at least let ME take them away."
"You can take them—just DON'T touch my cabinet. Last time you were here, you ate THREE whole bags of my specially smuggled—no, I mean—specially IMPORTED cucumber-flavored crisps from Asia. I will NEVER forgive you."
"Wow, thanks. I'm touched that you still remember."
"Of course, I remember. I even know EXACTLY why you're here… But I won't help you. Absolutely not. Detectives rely on LOGIC, so I refuse to assist you."
Sherlock huffed, wrapping himself tightly in his blanket as he sat in his chair.
Kasenhis awkwardly changed the subject.
"And a woman agreed to go on a date with him—Pfft!"
"Laugh one more time, and I'll go to the kitchen, make a piping hot cup of cocoa, and use it to mold a cast of your face."
"You know me—I just remembered something funny."
Kasenhis gave his standard excuse, one he had probably used countless times before.
"Please don't try to deflect with your nonexistent wife. Honestly, you are the type of person who is perfectly suited to die alone.
I can't even imagine what kind of tragic fate would befall your significant other—because within the span of a single year, she would somehow end up pregnant with ninety-three children."
"OK… That would absolutely NOT happen."
Kasenhis barely held back his laughter, enduring Sherlock's endless rant about his supposed crimes.
"You really should try the wine. Seriously, it's good."
"I really don't want to… I have serious doubts about the hygiene of those two bottles."
"…Then GIVE THEM BACK."
"I could also choose to pour them down the drain… or you could offer a trade."
Kasenhis rolled his eyes, sighing as he got up from the sofa and headed back to his own home next door.
Once upstairs in his workspace, he dug through a corner and pulled out an empty wine bottle.
He filled it with purified water. Added purple food coloring. Measured out a precise amount of food-grade alcohol. Threw in oak extract, red wine essence, wine stabilizer, and Burgundy fragrance. Stirred it all together. Bottled it. Slapped on a label.
After a series of precise steps…
A zero-day-aged, all-natural, 100% pure "Burgundy wine" was officially complete!
[P.S. DO NOT ATTEMPT TO REPLICATE THIS. DO NOT ATTEMPT. DO NOT ATTEMPT!!!—Well, if you want..]
Kasenhis walked back over to Sherlock's place and placed the bottle in front of him.
By now, Sherlock had finally put on some proper clothes.
He grabbed a wine glass from the shelf, poured in some of the "Burgundy", and gave it a gentle swirl—then immediately fell into deep thought.
Kasenhis removed his single-lens monocle.
"This? What about it?"
The very next moment—Sherlock suddenly lunged, flinging the wine straight at Kasenhis's face!
Kasenhis dodged instantly, tilting his head to the side.
"Seriously? You're still playing these ridiculous games?"
"Hmm… Where did I slip up?"
Kasenhis asked, a bit dazed.
Sherlock calmly poured another glass and pushed it toward him.
Kasenhis took the glass, gave it a swirl, and instantly noticed—The liquid moved like water, with zero viscosity.
With a facepalm, he groaned,
"Ah, I forgot about that. Next time, I'll add some sugar so it sticks to the glass. Don't mind it."
"Since you're not kicking me out, I'll just ask straight up."
Kasenhis pulled a slip of paper from his pocket.
He had already replaced all the magical terminology with words Sherlock could understand.
"Let me see… So, I have a very tricky case—It happened about sixty or seventy years ago, in a castle. A female victim was found dead in the girls' restroom."
"I'm Sherlock Holmes, not some godsent administrator of the mortal realm."
Sherlock stated flatly.
"OK, OK. The female victim was crying in the restroom at the time. Then, she suddenly heard a man's voice. Just as she turned around to tell him he was in the wrong restroom, she was shot and killed. What I want to know is—this man had a secret hideout somewhere in the castle. Where is it?"
Kasenhis clarified further.
"What kind of person was this man?"
"Polite. A complete gentleman. Also, an absolute monster."
"Then his hideout is most likely inside the girls' restroom."
Sherlock concluded immediately.
"A man who is both polite and a monster—That means he doesn't have a conscience, but he does care about his appearance or at least his public image." For origınal chapters go to 𝕟𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕝⟡𝕗𝕚𝕣𝕥⟡𝕟𝕖𝕥
"A person like that wouldn't randomly wander into a girls' restroom unless there was a logical reason for him to be there.
Which means—his secret hideout is inside that restroom."
Sherlock stated this as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, without even pausing to think.
"Did you not hear me?" Sherlock frowned.
"I heard you… but… That's it?"
"I thought you were bringing me a case that might actually be interesting—but turns out…"
Sherlock shook his head in disappointment.
"…I also didn't expect that the thing I've spent over two months researching…"
"Took me about three seconds. Actually, about five seconds before you even finished describing the killer, I had already figured it out.
The only reason I even asked you that last question was to make sure the culprit you described wasn't just some random pervert who liked sneaking into girls' restrooms for fun."
Sherlock said flatly.
[email protected]/Dragonel