As it sounds, it smells like an attempt to cover up.

and......

Rather killed some~'

This answer was also awkward.

It wasn't that a detective couldn't kill, it was just that coming from Sherlock's mouth, coupled with what he had shown before, there was always the feeling that there were countless strange hunting stories hidden behind that sentence.

Catherine narrowed her eyes and stared at the other party, remaining silent for a short while; she actually had a certain desire to pursue the question further, but as a cleric of the Holy See, it was always impossible to truly reveal one's identity in order to inquire about a civilian's past.

Fortunately, at this point Sherlock took the initiative to change the subject, "Eh, did you just mention the...... rewards?".

"How can what the Church gives be called a reward....It should be called a blessing!"Catherine corrected sternly.

"Of course, honored lady, whatever you say it is."

Sherlock's smile always seemed hypocritical to her, and it took some effort before she was able to connect the man in front of her with the figure who had just saved the day.

Immediately after that, however, she tilted her head slightly and said

"So what do you want?" she asked, an air of superiority dripping naturally from her tone.

There is no way, she has the Holy See behind her, and the bounty for the Holy See is enough to make any person feel exalted, because the Holy See will not tell you what you can get, but let you say what you want, after all, your wish the Holy See can basically fulfill, as long as you have the qualification.

But it is such a question that carries the highest honor, but suddenly, Sherlock was asked.

Reward......Do you still need to think for yourself?

Catherine saw the bewildered look on the detective's face, assumed he was shocked by the Order's mercy, and finally smiled from the bottom of her heart:

"I know it's a bit hard to answer....But money, power, honor, all of it, and even if you want to serve the Holy Light better, I can claim my own church for you on the outskirts of London!"

Sherlock said nothing, only his eyebrows knitted together, the rain running down his cheeks into the stubble that hadn't been groomed in a long time.

When he killed a Deacon of the Judgment Division just now, he wasn't even this embarrassed.

Because he felt that things like money and power weren't very attractive to him, in fact, he just liked catching murderers and solving a few cases so that his mind wasn't always idle, that's all.

So after ten seconds......Thirty seconds .....One minute ......

"Give me a minute, I need to think......".

He finally replied with this.

......

That cumulonimbus cloud in the sky was like a bladder stuffed with a urethra opening that had been released with great difficulty, spraying the liquid that had been stored inside for an unknown period of time.

And under the rain curtain, the battle that almost destroyed half of the street was actually not that long, before and after it was estimated to be only five minutes.

The aftermath of the battle had by now been repaired in simple tents, with gas stoves fired up inside, and even thoughtfully supplied with hot water and hunger-suppressing food; since the wounded, the heavy steam armor, and the clergy couldn't possibly be airlifted away, and it would take more than an hour for the replacement transport to arrive, they could only repair where they were for the time being.

Sherlock was sitting in a tent at the moment......This Mr. Detective, who was initially abandoned on the battlefield where no one cared if he lived or died, seemed to have his status suddenly upgraded from cannon fodder to a very valuable position at this moment.

At least for the time being, it seemed that only Catherine and the old Priestess Lord had tents that could protect them from the rain.

And from time to time, some nuns would come in with the most professional battlefield medical equipment to examine and treat Sherlock's injuries.

Under the Holy See's deployment plan, nuns were generally in charge of daily prayer and reception work between churches in urban areas, and only a few people with professional medical training could go to the war zone, and compared to ordinary medical personnel, these field nuns also know almost all the baptismal ceremonies and prayer vows, so they can pacify soldiers whose faith has collapsed due to killing or fear, and are considered a very high position among the nuns.

Of course, Catherine's [Sisters of Judgment] don't count, as they are second-class servants and no longer the base of the Holy See.

In any case, this kind of treatment is certainly not something a civilian can enjoy.......

Some extremely fine stitches were threaded through the wounds on Sherlock's spine just now, although he had only been out for ten seconds or so, but in order to better observe the battlefield from the edge of the battlefield, he had inevitably suffered some injuries, but none of them were serious enough to paralyze or amputate a limb, and this led to the feeling that......The nun behind him was a little too cautious in her approach.

A few times he wanted to remind the other party, can be a little rude, a total of not a few shots, then we dig bullets do not use tweezers, directly with the hand buckle how convenient.

But when he saw the fine sweat on the other's forehead, as well as the anxious look that did not dare to meet his own, he was too embarrassed to bother the other.

After a few more minutes, after the wounds on her body were basically healed, this nun performed a [Bowing Salute] to Sherlock with the most humble gesture, as reverent as if she were facing a cleric of the Holy See.

It must be that the old priests have given this nun some special instructions.......

In short, Sherlock felt embarrassed, he awkwardly replied with clumsy manners, "It's really troublesome for you."

These words made the other party's body tremble, and he unconsciously looked at the other party with panicked eyes for a moment, then hurriedly lowered his head humbly, recited a silent prayer under his breath, and retreated from the tent.

And soon after the nun left, the tent was raised again.

This time, the one who came in was a church guard who was not equipped with steam armor.

After entering the door, this person first looked at Mr. Detective in front of him, there was curiosity and gratitude in his eyes, and even fear, but all of it was well hidden, and he just said in a respectful tone:

"Lord Priest......You are invited to come over."

......

......

Lifting the curtain of a tent not far away, Sherlock shook off the rainwater on his body.

Inside the tent was a pile of medical equipment, some of which even needed to be powered by electricity, I don't know where this group of guys from the Holy See got the portable power.

And in the middle of the tent, there was a bed that looked a bit unorthodox, the old Priest Lord was lying on the bed at this moment, and although it didn't look like he had any major injuries at first glance, there was still a vial dangling above his arm, and some kind of bright red liquid was being fed into his body, along the tube.

"Some kind of nutrient liquid, it says it can relieve mental stress, reduce pain and so on," seeing Sherlock's gaze, the old priest helplessly explained, "This group of doctors always think I am going to die for all sorts of strange reasons."

"At your age, it is also true that you are no longer fit to fight," Sherlock replied with a smile, as if he had come to visit an old bedridden friend, "So what was I called for?"

The old priest moved back so that he was half leaning on the bed and looked the other man up and down once more:

"Do you....want to be a pactee or not?"