In the late 19th century, London was nicknad the Fog City, due to the large amounts of smoke emitted following the Industrial Revolution. The dim electric lights struggled to illuminate the old red brick roads.
The mist clinging to the filthy air cast an eerie glow over the streets, mingling with a faint stench of burning coal and oil.
The neighborhoods around Whitechapel were quieter than usual.
In the wake of the recent murders attributed to Jack the Ripper, fear had seized the locals. Many now refused to step outside after dark.
A beautiful black carriage creaked down the desolate road.
Inside sat a figure, indifferent to the grim scenery outside. A cane rested beside his dark coat, and a finely bound German book lay across his lap.
Whitechapel, nestled in the East End of London, was a lting pot of immigrants—tens of thousands of families from Russia and Eastern Europe had made their hos here.
But with such an influx of people and low wages, this place had decayed into a breeding ground of poverty and cri. Holess drifters, pickpockets, and prostitutes prowled the fog-filled alleys...
Everything was perfectly simulated.
"Here we are, Professor."
The carriage ca to a smooth halt.
While the driver waited respectfully, Hayashi Yoshiki stepped down onto the cobblestone street.
221B Baker Street—
The fabled address of Sherlock Hols.
A fictional house number in the real world, yet here, it glead clearly on the front of a modest Victorian building.
"Excuse , who is this?"
An elderly woman in a black dress answered the door.
Fans of the Hols series would recognize her imdiately—Mrs. Hudson, Hols' loyal landlady.
"An admirer of Mr. Hols,"
Hayashi Yoshiki said politely.
"Is he at ho?"
"Ah, unfortunately, Mr. Hols and Dr. Watson are away on a case. They've gone to a village called Dartmoor."
"...Maybe I rembered the date wrong. What day is it today?"
"September 30th," Mrs. Hudson replied with a warm smile.
"He should be back in a few days. Shall I leave a ssage for him?"
"So things are best said in person," Hayashi Yoshiki replied with a gentle nod, then turned and walked back to his carriage.
September 30th... Dartmoor...
That could only an one thing: the case of The Hound of the Baskervilles.
Hols wouldn't be back for so ti.
But Hayashi Yoshiki needed to find him.
And more than that—
He needed to kill him.
—Finding and killing Sherlock Hols was Hayashi Yoshiki's mission objective.
anwhile, Conan and his friends had arrived in Whitechapel, the infamous site of Jack the Ripper's murders.
If they were caught or injured by the police, it would count as a failed mission, so when sirens rang out, the group quickly scattered to explore other areas.
"It feels so real here..."
"Yeah. The wind, the sll... everything."
"Even my foot pain is too real..."
"So where do we find Jack the Ripper?"
"I heard the police ntion Inspector Lestrade."
"So?"
"Lestrade is a Scotland Yard detective who worked closely with Sherlock Hols in the original stories. If he's here, that ans..."
Conan's lips curled into a subtle, excited smile.
"Sherlock Hols must be in this world too!"
That was all they needed. Without hesitation, they made their way toward 221B Baker Street.
Nowadays, there was no threat of death in real life from losing a ga, so the mood remains light and adventurous.
Hiroki Sawada had also joined in secretly—his appearance was too well-known, so he had assud the identity of Hideki Moroboshi, who was actually playing in another ga theater at the ti.
Smiling to himself, Hiroki reflected that Hayashi Yoshiki had not entered through one of the 50 "cocoons" onstage. Instead, he had logged into the ga from elsewhere—after all, he'd written much of the ga's script himself.
Even with all the changes Hiroki made, he couldn't risk letting Yoshiki fully participate and disturb others' experience.
The group soon found Hols' apartnt.
Mrs. Hudson was startled to see so many children arriving but assud they were assistants of Mr. Hols and kindly welcod them in.
Inside, Conan discovered portraits of Hols and Watson—bearing a shocking resemblance to Yusaku Kudo and Dr. Agasa.
"Jack the Ripper has thrown London into chaos. Judging from the unprecedented social disruption, I'm convinced he's connected to Professor Moriarty—the mastermind of evil."
After going through Hols' research materials, the group decided their best course of action was to locate Moriarty.
They didn't know where he was, but they could target his closest associate: Coronel Moran.
They found Moran in a bridge club, mid-ga.
He was still up to his old tricks—cheating at cards with his n.
When Conan pointed it out, Hiroki Sawada, getting too into the ga, couldn't help but expose him outright.
Enraged, Coronel Moran pulled a gun, intending to teach the children a lesson.
A wild scuffle broke out.
After a few teammates were "eliminated," Conan noticed sothing strange—soone had been guarding a particular bottle of red wine throughout the fight.
Realizing it was ant for Moriarty, Conan snatched it, forcing Moran to pause and reassess.
"Let's stop this farce."
A calm, youthful voice rang through the room.
Haibara Ai, Sonoko, and the others froze—
The voice was too familiar.
Colonel Moran paled, his gun still trained on Conan.
"P-Professor!"
"What's going on here?" the newcor asked coolly.
"S-Sothing unexpected! These brats were sent by Hols—!"
"Hols would never send children into danger. Put the gun down. This is pathetic."
A tall, impeccably dressed young man stepped forward.
With striking features, he removed his black fedora and offered a charming, disarming smile.
"Your expressions suggest disbelief... but—"
"Nice to et you. I'm Jas Moriarty."
"Brother Yoshiki!?" Haibara gasped.
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