𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬
The cries of England adhere a coming new killer as its targets mainly conducted to be nobles. One by one, slaughtered through the silent night discovering over the yards, streets and corners of bodies to be found. Unidentified yet t...
||DISCLAIMER: I do not own the Moriarty the Patriot/Yuukoku no Moriarty franchise and it’s characters, but the original character under this story for imaginative and creative attribution within the storyline. Owners of this series goes to Ryousuke Takeuchi for the plot alongside with Hikaru Miyoshi for the illustrations. Based on the original Sherlock Holmes series by Arthur Conan Doyle and Ian Fleming’s James Bond series giving a crossover dynamic between the two famous stories. All rights reserved respectively.||
WARNINGS: THE FOLLOWING STORY MAY CONTENT NSFW MAINLY GORE, TORTURE, HARSH LANGUAGE AND OTHER ANGST OR SENSITIVE ASPECTS THAT DRIVEN WITHIN THE VICTORIAN ERA. AS MUCH AS THE AUTHOR WOULD TRY HARD TO DEPICT IT’S REVELANT SOCIETY ON THE PARTICULAR TIME. PLEASE READ IT AT YOUR OWN RISK.
ओह! यह छवि हमारे सामग्री दिशानिर्देशों का पालन नहीं करती है। प्रकाशन जारी रखने के लिए, कृपया इसे हटा दें या कोई भिन्न छवि अपलोड करें।
Daybreak begins to foil the cracking rays of Durham. Birds twittered merrily through the veneer spring winds. The green pastures passed muster pleasantly, and cattle behaved, feasting their stacks of hays and grass; abidance is the key to all nurturing needs. That's what the spirit settles today. In a beak of its glass windows, seen with a weaved robe worn— flashes upon, crimson eyes shone in a brief sentiment through the awakened sunlight, darted by the uplifting sky blue clouds. Hands were calm, scuffling digits scaffolding to be standing against the upfront living room. His lips— were sealed as relaxed for the sunrise to shine its full glory that would bring soreness to his eyes.
What awaits an adequate; equilibrium for the known master and his serving breakfast goes earlier than was planned.
Chisel with his tipping chin of smiles. His reflection looked upon a figure— prepping tea to his delight.
"You're up early, dear brother."
"And so you are, William... just in time to stare at the sunrise for your tea."
"I'd never fetch you before you could see me standing— awake, I'd suppose you wondered."
A fellow sibling shook his assertions, amusing to his delight, "Gracefully. You know how I come to see you awake quite a time..."
"Well, tea is a spot for my comfort... you made for me, thank you, Louis," he whispered his appreciation to him. Sitting down comfortably at his embarked velvet sofa, tugging his arse by the cushions with his spine postures perfectly well— a pipping cup by his hand as he took a sip.
William enamoured thoughts— through his reflection by the spot of tea. Eyes suddenly became misty— somehow relatively a new mimic mystery. Not mimic, but something to decipher.
"Have you checked at the other bank we brought in with our banknotes the other time we deposited? Louis?"
"Yes, Lilibark Uniondale? Is it, brother? What brings?" Louis asked calmly as he seamlessly bridged his glasses; properly.
"I assume the deposits you asked for were transferred there for transactions. Because the other bank you mastered nearly put a scare." He added, remembering the constructed plan of his brother at the previous event— hurdled many citizens.
