Mystery of Holmes: University murders

Prologue

Rain poured from the lifeless grey sky, pounding the surface of each gravestone as if the drops would awake the dead. However, among all the decease and slow decay, a figure in a black rain mac simply stood in place. Despite the weather, the figure was a man that refused to move from a particular stone.

The words, Leon Lionhart, was engraved and showed clearly even in the dampening of the elements. The man sighed, knowing that by now he was the only one that returns to the slab of rock that now represents the person that mold him to what he is now.

He could visually imagine how his teacher would be if he could see him now. A noticeable shake of the head and a light scolding of how sentimentally stubborn he is to return to a patch of dirt that did nothing but ache his heart. That no matter how many times he came back, nothing would change. Not his friend's death. Not the path he thrown away. Not even himself. But if only he could hear the words from him now, that he would relish more than anything.

"Would have brought some scotch, but you know how the US is serving 'minors'." It was a silly gesture, but he was aware that some people would bring back offerings to graves. Commodities such as food and drink was the normal thing that was brought down. Others would take flowers to settle next to the stones, however he would not commit to bringing senseless plants to his friend to only have them die. It was too selfish to him, even if he could see how illogical it was for criticize that when he too is being selfish. He tries to smile at the grave, "I could have gotten away with taking a bottle from the store. However I know, you would frown at even the suggestion of it." A yanking sensation became visible from his chest, dropping his attempt to lighten the depression that this 'graveyard' has an endless supply of.

Another soft sigh left his lips as the pair of hazelnut eyes cast down at the patch of ground below him. He didn't know how long it has been since his death till he really bothered to think about it. To him it feels longer than originally, but the reality was that only a few years has passed.

"Sorry, partner." An apology that never will get a reply from again, but it did not matter as the water continues to patter against the sheets he wore on him. Nevertheless, he forgot how many times he has done this. "Got to get my flight now." He turns away from the grave before slowly walking away.

"Farewell."

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Year 2040. Ever since the string of terrorist attacks and the rise of crime between 2013 to 2018, the UN have decided to take action.

Pooling resources to invest in world wide security, the countries had being to grow talent and develop counter measures to stop incidents from occurring.

Liberation League.  The LL was the first to gather talented people that specialize in various sections of criminology and combat. From there they have solved over a thousand cases in over five years after forming in 2020, with a 98.7% rate of countering terrorist threats and 100% to solving crimes.

From there on each country had allowed universities to help train the future generation to liberate crime from the world.

The most infamous of them all was Justice University of London, where the infamous Holmes bloodline originated. Those that graduate from this eventually end up in government agencies such as MI6, CIA, and even detective agencies like Scotland Yard.

However, only the best of the best gets a shot into going into the LL. To call themselves Liberators.

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A yawn left his lips as he walked past the crowds of strangers, little care about what was going on with their lives.

Despite the leather jacket and thicker Jeans, the typical British weather was all but a harsh freeze that could even make an Eskimo shiver. The scarf and leather gloves did little to dampen the overall effect, but he was capable of soldering on.