The villain is trapped in the system and begs me to let him out [Moriarty who worries about the coun

In the rickety carriage, Du Ruoying lay curiously beside the small square window, quietly watching the outside in a daze.

The streets at night are quiet and deserted, only the reddish-brown smog is lingering, constantly changing, slowly spreading in the air like a halo of blood.

Several night patrol officers in uniform hurried past with oil lamps, then turned around and stopped the carriage, asking if they had a pass.Lestrade showed them his papers, and they were let go.

Du Ruoying finally understood why there was not even a live mouse on the street——

London is now under martial law.

"Tell me, what kind of case?" Sherlock asked Lestrade in the carriage.

"There's been a weirdo in the Clocktower lately," said Lestrade, "every night, at 10:54, the weirdo in the black cloak appears with a victim whose head is immobilized. In the position of number 11, the weirdo stands lightly on top of the victim's head. When the clock turns to 10:55 - you know, during that period, the hour and minute hands will coincide for a moment - the huge cut The force will pinch off the victim's head. In the end, the monster and the head fall together. But we can only find the head and the cloak each time, and the monster, like disappearing into the night mist, disappeared in mid-air disappeared.

"So far, there have been nine victims in this case, including Congressman Lucius, Congressman Dent, Mayor of Hamilton, etc., all of whom are well-known politicians."

"Are you actually using Big Ben as a guillotine for politicians?" Du Ruoying was terrified.

Sherlock intertwined his fingers and pressed his chin, his gaze fell intentionally or unintentionally on the curtain in Du Ruoying's hand. The color of the curtain was very similar to the color of the inner wall of the carriage.

"Since the victims are politicians," he mused, "the government should take this matter seriously, but even if enough police forces are dispatched, they can't do anything about it, right?"

"That's right, the weirdo was like a puff of smoke, coming and going without a trace. One second the tower was clean, the next second, he appeared with the victim, we didn't even have time to stop him, we could only watch The victim was killed..." Lestrade paused, "All of this is really unbelievable, just like the devil's killing magic."

"Magic?" Du Ruoying repeated in a low voice, a feeling of deja vu suddenly broke into her mind.

"Yes, magic! Otherwise, how could it appear out of nowhere and disappear out of nowhere? Just like you suddenly appeared in Watson's house!" Lestrade said, "By the way, how did you do it?"

Sherlock coughed slightly in embarrassment, "Let's not talk about this, the case is important—so let's hear what failed attempts you have made."

"I've tried everything, really...London is under martial law every night, and people without a pass can't get out. There are heavy guards around the clock tower, and we even sent professional mechanics to check every day The clock tower, but nothing was found. I remember one time, the body appeared a little earlier than usual, and we started to rescue with hope, but in the end it triggered the mechanism instead, causing the clock to turn randomly, and the victim's head was pinched off in advance... …

"That weirdo is teasing us, teasing us all, deliberately giving us a little hope, and then crushing it hard." Lestrade clenched his teeth in pain, "To be honest, everyone has almost lost their fighting spirit."

"Don't talk about such useless things," Sherlock waved his hands impatiently, "Is there any change on the clock face before and after they appear?"

"Change?" Lestrade was stunned.

Through the thick fog, Du Ruoying could already see Big Ben from a distance, and the clock was pointing to 10:30.

She suddenly had an idea: "For example, there are some subtle and strange fluctuations on the clock face."

A trace of surprise flashed in Sherlock's eyes: "You thought of it too?"

"What did you think of?" Lestrade was even more confused.

"It's cloth." The carriage stopped slowly, and Sherlock walked out first. He raised a revolver and pointed his gun at the top of the clock tower.

Lestrade recognized that it was his own police gun, and rushed forward to fight for it: "Sherlock, what are you doing!"

Yet it was too late.

In the sky above the silent city, gunshots rang out suddenly, causing countless guarded guns to turn around.At the same time, the bullet from the revolver passed across the top of the clock tower obliquely from the side, as if breaking an important fixing part, and the entire clock face trembled wobbly, right in the middle Crack a straight and slender vertical slit.

Before everyone could drop their jaws in shock, a more horrifying scene appeared——

This eerie clock face suddenly floated down softly in the wind, revealing another identical clock face behind it, where the number 11 was suddenly stuck with a strange figure, and on top of the figure was what Lestrade had said earlier. The clock tower geek.

"Quick! Help! Stop the murderer!" Lestrade shouted to the guards.

People rushed up the clock tower in a hurry, while Sherlock and the others followed leisurely behind.

"So there's no sudden victim at all," Sherlock explained to Lestrade as he twirled the revolver in his hand, "everything was already there - hidden under the cover of a fake clock face. But I still don't understand..."

He suddenly looked at Du Ruoying: "Hey stupid girl, how did you come up with this answer?"

Du Ruoying blinked guiltyly: "Actually... I've heard of this technique."

"What?!" Sherlock was stunned, "Where did you hear that?"

""Detective Conan"." Du Ruoying replied without thinking.

She clearly remembered that the first confrontation between Shinichi and Kidd was also on the clock tower. At that time, Kidd managed to escape by using this trick.But she never expected that this method of escape could turn into such a bloody murderous plot.

"Conan..." Sherlock glanced at Watson speechlessly, "I haven't seen you for a few days, you're promising, and you're starting to use your pseudonym as the protagonist?"

"Nothing," Watson waved his hand, "Actually, I'm not afraid of your jokes. Since you're gone, I've closed my pen..."

"Hey, now is not the time to chat slowly!" Lestrade grabbed Sherlock and ran up, "We have to rush up and catch the murderer on the clock."

"Are you stupid, how can someone stand on the clock?" Sherlock held his forehead, "The murderer is not on the clock, and the black cloak is just a fabric to attract your attention."

At this time, the guards had rescued the victim, who was wearing a strange black cloth, which was obviously the blindfold cloth that Sherlock mentioned.

Watson stepped forward to glance at the victim, shook his head and said, "No, it's too late, I've been strangled to death for at least an hour."

"Damn it, I still can't save him," Lestrade hugged his head in despair, "and the murderer also ran away."

"Who said the murderer ran away?" Sherlock walked up to the old man who was overhauling the machine, grabbed his hand, and held it up high, "Isn't this still here?"

"You... What nonsense are you talking about?!" The clock tower mechanic shook his hand angrily and broke free.

"Of course the fake clock face cannot be picked up by the police, so you must take it back yourself." William also walked in front of the mechanic. "After you attracted people's attention with your head and black cloak, you used a pulley to secretly pull the cloth with the clock face back to the mechanical room from the other direction. In order to hide people's eyes, the other side of the cloth was designed as The appearance is similar to the color of the outer wall, so that people who look from a distance can't find anything strange."

Sherlock and William smiled at each other.

Sherlock pointed to the rope on the window of the mechanical room: "The other end of the fixture that hangs the fake clock face is connected to the mechanical room. What else can you say about that?"

"This is slander, it's framing! I was framed!" The mechanic roared with red eyes.

"How do you explain the old bloodstains on the windowsill?" William touched the window sill around the rope, "Could it be that the recycling of props in every murder case happened in your mechanical room, and you happened to be caught by the police at that time?" Pay off?"

"I..." The mechanic was at a loss for words.

Sherlock noticed the fresh wound on William's fingertips, and knew that he was repeating the old trick. Although he didn't like this kind of despicable trick, he had to admit that sometimes it was more effective.

He had no choice but to turn his face away awkwardly, pretending not to notice.

The equipment floor fell into a brief silence, so quiet that the soft sound of gears running could be heard.

Suddenly, the mechanic laughed loudly: "Hehe, obviously those people...they are the real murderers, but you only catch me.

"Those politicians only need to say a word, and the blood of us untouchables can flow like champagne-conscription and war, military expenditures skyrocket, exorbitant taxes, and the people are destitute! Workers live worse than livestock, not only have to maintain the rear day and night and they couldn’t even eat a full mouthful, so they could only starve to death one by one, died of illness, died of exhaustion..."

Hearing this, Du Ruoying's heart was suddenly tightened by an uncomfortable feeling.

Unexpectedly, while this country trampled on the whole world wantonly, it also put its own people in trouble.

She silently looked out the window, feeling a little puzzled.

Whose benefit is the war that sacrificed so many people in the end?

"And us, what's wrong with us? We just want to use a collective voice to tell the government, don't fight any more, don't squeeze us anymore, everyone is going to die! They actually sent troops to say that we are Rebellion! Finally, all the petitioners were killed!" The mechanic's eyes were sad and misty, and his mind seemed to be immersed in the reflection of memories, "After crawling out of the pile of corpses, I counted them one by one, 23 people , The 23 people who went to protest at the gate of the government with me all died. The people who drank with me every day died, the people who sold me breakfast died, and the people who accompanied me to ponder the machine until dawn also died... Only I live alone, I can't die...why me?"

A cloudy tear spilled from his wrinkled eye socket.

"Until that day, the congressman who ordered the shooting suddenly appeared in front of me and asked me to help him repair the big clock. On that day, I suddenly understood-the meaning of surviving." He raised the corners of his mouth bitterly, "I Not greedy, just wanting one for one - or, 23 for 23. No one can judge politicians and execute politicians, so I will be the judge, the jury, and the executioner . . . I would like to invite all of London to attend this real murder trial."

He suddenly looked at Lestrade fiercely, "Although the lackeys of the government have been trying to suppress public opinion, everyone has seen it, and everyone feels that it is very happy, hahahaha, very happy!"

Seeing the crazy appearance of the mechanic crying and laughing, William suddenly thought of himself.

He rarely suppressed his fake smile, handed over a handkerchief and said, "I don't know what your dead friends expect from you, but I know that your current painful state is definitely not what they want to see." I got it—they must want you to live a good life instead of destroying themselves for that kind of person."

Once, Fred told him that too, but unfortunately he couldn't listen to it after all.

Because it's too late, just like this moment...

With the help of Sherlock, the complicated and confusing case ended smoothly, and the murderer was arrested and brought to justice by the police.

On the bridge, Du Ruoying and his party waved goodbye to Lestrade and were about to leave, but they heard a crisp "click", and a pair of strange copper handcuffs were added to William's wrists.

"Sorry," Lestrade said in a deep voice, "Although I am very grateful for your help in solving the case, I still have to take you away."

As soon as the words fell, the zero o'clock bell suddenly rang above his head.The rippling and melodious sound slowly spread from Big Ben, spreading deeper and farther into this ancient city.

Meanwhile, William begins to become transparent.

Before Lestrade could figure out what was going on, the three people in front of him disappeared together with the last ringing of the bell.

Lestrade stared blankly at the empty shackles in his hands, his face suddenly turned livid, and his whole body couldn't help shaking violently.

"Could it be... I really saw a ghost?!"

On the other side, a dark carriage parked on the other side suddenly lowered the curtain.

Inside the carriage, Mycroft looked away from the window, and looked at Louis in front of him again: "Then, this mission is what I just said, do you have any questions?"

"I don't think there should be any." Louis took the file calmly, "Did you see something outside the window just now? Your face looks a little strange."

"Really?" Regarding the evaluation on his face, Mycroft just smiled noncommittally, he hesitated for a moment, and finally spoke again, "Just now... I seem to have a look at Sherlock."

As he spoke, he shook his head with a wry smile, rubbed the bridge of his nose with two fingers, and showed a rare sign of fatigue, "But it should be just an illusion."

"No, that's not a hallucination."

"Oh?" Mycroft looked playfully at the young man in front of him, only to see that the other party's emotions suddenly became a little excited.

"Because... I saw it too," Louis said, "Brother William's figure!"