[Zhongyingmei] That snake

"The murderer cuts off the limbs directly. You see, these incisions are very smooth. The murderer is not punishing the victim. Because, the murderer was not angry or violent when he cut the knife. Usually, the stabbing implies sexual catharsis, but these corpses There are only knife marks on the gap, the murderer should have been very calm when he cut the knife, he knew what he was doing." Oliver analyzed.

"These incisions were made by scalpels and medical chainsaws." Sherlock reached out and flipped the stumped limbs on the ground without fear of death, the blood made a sticky sound, "The murderer has a medical background and is extremely skilled, oh, look at these The bruise, after the murderer cut off the arm, put a heavy object on it."

"After the cut?" Oliver asked. Most people would infer the struggle of the deceased when they saw the bruises on the corpse, rather than such a conclusion.

"Isn't it obvious?" Sherlock's gray-blue eyes swept across the crowd, and when his eyes finally returned to the corpse, he explained, "I've done related experiments, and I saw this dark red circle."

John was deeply impressed by that experiment, and he had a big shock when he met his cohabitant for the first time.

"Suppress the corpse, what did the murderer use to suppress the corpse?" This was a routine question from Lestrade.

"Probably more corpses." Sherlock said casually, "Has the forensic examiner checked how many people belonged to the pool of blood left by the murderer?" "

"Anderson tried, but the blood samples were very messy."

"The murderer removed the victim's body parts and piled them together." Hotch folded his arms around the back of the display case, looking through the empty shiny display case at the coffee-colored bloodstain on the opposite side, "but they didn't leave all the body parts , did not choose these waste products, they left useful things, such as eyes | cornea | The presence of narcotics was detected in the victim, was it not, Inspector Lestrade."

Lestrade nodded, "Yes."

"The work of cutting limbs and organs was carried out before the victim was alive, but the murderer gave them anesthesia and no pain. Within the scope of the soul killer's cognition, we can't count this as torture. The murderer is very calm, they don't want to torture Victims, and not overly concerned with the death of victims. All they want is something that doesn't show up here."

"So you've run into another ogre?" John asked uneasily, feeling a little sympathetic to the BAU team.

"Hope our luck isn't so bad." Oliver smiled wryly. "And John, if it's really a gang of ogres. Well, it's us."

"That's bad news."

"There are many ways to deal with the abandoned corpses, but they chose to bring the abandoned corpses to the museum with heavy security. We can't tell whether his purpose is to get those limbs, or to create panic or provoke the police here. said Reid.

"It's really a problem," Oliver said.

Judging from the type of ogre, most ogres do not like to show off like Hannibal, and more often they just entertain themselves, hunt alone, and enjoy themselves.

"I don't think what we encountered this time is an ogre. When they treat food, they either choose it carefully and don't tolerate any pollution, or they are unscrupulous and don't refuse anyone. If the murderer will have a selection of organs , then it is impossible for him to let go of his body and kill a victim of smoking, alcohol and drugs. From the perspective of keeping the corpse and abandoning the corpse, these are two completely different needs. I suspect that they may have internal strife, which is a There is a team, but the one who killed and took the corpse is a small group, and the one who dumped the corpse here to attract attention is another small group."

"This brings us back to our original question." Hotch looked at Oliver, "Why did the murderer dump the body here?"

Oliver didn't answer, he did have some ideas, but this idea made him feel extremely strange, "Let the forensic personnel do a detailed fingerprint sampling, from the gate to this showcase."

"No problem," Lestrade said.

"And the blood sample." Sherlock jumped up from the ground, "Let Anderson use his goldfish brain. This big pool of blood is enough for him to analyze the owner of the blood sample."

"I'll do my best." Lestrade rubbed his forehead.

"Mr. Koul, if the case cannot be solved before the exhibition, will these cultural relics continue to be exhibited?" Oliver deliberately walked up to the pale Koul before leaving the storage room.

"What do you mean? Can't you solve this case?" He swallowed and looked up at Oliver.

"We are confident that we can solve it. But the murderer is also confident that he will not be found. What we have to do is to think from the position of the murderer."

"Well yes, they will remain on display."

"Aren't you worried that the public will know about it?"

"Yes, so what? Don't they all know the curse of Tutankhamun and the Koh-i-Noor? But Tutankhamun's exhibition was hot enough, and the subsequent jewelry exhibition also sold a lot of reservation tickets The Koh-i-Noor itself may not be as valuable as the ancient treasures in other vaults, but people just like to look at it because it has a story about the curse."

Endless curiosity and the spirit of death support human beings, and they have come to today's modern society.

————————————————————————————————————————

After inspecting the scene yesterday, the results left everyone clueless, so they could only listen to Reid and Sherlock's uninterrupted stories about Tutankhamun and the Koh-i-Noor before waiting for the results of the forensic examination.

After chatting with Koul for a while, Oliver confirmed the vague guess in his heart, but he only explained the guess to Hotch.

"Visitors come to appreciate the Koh-i-Noor not for the gem itself, but for the story on it.

We know that the murder that happened here was deliberately done by the murderer, but those tourists don't know the real situation of the case, they only believe that what they see is real. "

"You think the Koh-i-Noor in the showcase is fake"

"I'm not sure. I need some evidence to back up my guess."

————————————————————————————————————————

Oliver woke up early.

By the time he finished changing and washing lightly, the dark blue London sky was still dotted with morning stars, and he did his best not to wake Hotch up.

After closing the door, he walked out of the hotel alone. In fact, he didn't know what he was going to do when he came out so early. He just put on his scarf and followed the early morning fog in London to the square in front of the British Museum.

Seeing the familiar sign these days, he stopped in his tracks.It was still early, and the twilight of the sky was gradually fading, but part of it remained, and the dark blue light diffused in the air.The museum was not yet open, and there was not even a single staff member in the square, only a group of white pigeons who had woken up in the early morning, chirping and jumping on the slate bricks.

However, there was also a very dedicated beggar, wrapped in a heavy black cotton overcoat that I don't know how old it was, huddled in a corner of the square, with a small tattered iron basin in front of him.

Oliver didn't go over, but found a bench and sat down.He kept paying attention to the beggar. The beggar's messy curly hair covered his half-opened eyes, but he was not sleeping, his eyes were rolling, and he kept looking around.

Are beggars so powerful in London? Oliver thought of the homeless children information network established by Holmes again, and he knew it again.

Oliver was sitting there. After an unknown period of time, white pigeons flapping their wings to avoid pedestrians would jump to his feet recklessly from time to time. The owner of a mobile stall came first in the morning mist, and he had already started to pack up and prepare for himself. The trolley is gone.

Looking at the signboard covered in red and yellow two-color paint, Oliver guessed that it was probably a shop selling hot dogs.

"Hello." The greeting, neither strong nor weak, was almost drowned out by the flapping of the doves' wings and the air.

Oliver turned his head and saw the person sitting on the other side of the bench very self-consciously. He hesitated for a while, "Hello, sir, what can you do?"

"I saw you sitting here alone." The young man's tone was very cheerful, his brown eyes were full of friendliness, but Oliver's delay in answering made him a little disappointed, "It's rare that someone Are you here to see a museum? It's a good place, I admit."

"So what about you, sir?" Oliver asked back.

"Jim, you can call me Jim." Jim said with a smile, playing with the headphone cable that had just been removed in his hand, "I just come here out of habit. Try to see if you can meet someone special."

"Who is special?"

Jim hangs his head slightly and bites his lip, which makes him look weak. "It's hard to define, but you're special. You see, it's very rare for someone to come here so early. But…"

"uh-huh"

"It's not enough to be special, I hope to meet someone who is both special and interesting." Jim was motivated, and he turned sideways to look at Oliver's chiseled profile.

"May I know what you're here for now? And, may I know your name?"

"Williams." Oliver felt the fiery gaze from the side, and turned his head so that the long hair next to his ear no longer blocked his sight.

"Wow, you have beautiful eyes." Jim looked at Oliver's blue-green pupils, exclaimed exaggeratedly, even raised his hand to cover his mouth, and tried to grab Oliver's palm with his other hand, but was caught He escaped.

"Don't you like it when people touch you?" Jim pulls his hand back just in time, not to be too embarrassed.

"No, it's just..." Oliver organized his words, and turned his eyes to the quiet museum in front of him again. The texture and lines of the rocks were blurred, and the reliefs in the morning mist became more vivid. He breathed out, and the white mist rose in front of him. And up.

"I went to the museum yesterday, it's amazing. I'm going, no, I'm addicted.

I want to propose to my boyfriend.So, I need a fancy ring, special and interesting, like you said. "

Jim straightened his back and followed Oliver's gaze, which made him raise his eyebrows, "Do you have someone you like?"

"It's hard to say," Oliver shrugged. "I know it's hard to get, just like I finally found my boyfriend. I don't want to lose him for unnecessary reasons."

"But if you want to be together for a long time, you should propose."

"Are you giving me advice? Jim." Oliver turned away again.

"It's a pity, but, yes, would you like my advice?"

"If you're giving me free advice, of course, that's your freedom." Oliver didn't care.

"If I made a suggestion, would you carry it out?" Jim said lightly.

"I hope you can give advice that has been tried and worked."

"I think we can be friends, the advice between friends is not a consultation, of course there is no fee," he laughed, "you need to prepare something, this is something everyone knows, but at the same time it must be impressive to both of you , and then continue to work on this, you need some fictional stories and some real events to make it all look perfect.

In general, make the past, present, and future real, and then no one will doubt that you can win his heart.Someone has done it, I promise. "

"Sounds reasonable." Oliver nodded thoughtfully, and after a moment of silence he asked Jim, "Can I ask you a favor?"

"What else do you want to know, I can answer it for you." Jim stared at Oliver with burning eyes.

"Can you lend me some money?"

"Sorry?" Jim froze.

"Actually, I haven't had breakfast yet. If you wouldn't mind lending me a few quid to go there and buy a hot dog, I'd appreciate it."

"I wouldn't mind." Jim took the money out of his pants pocket and handed it to Oliver. "There's a really good hot dog place on Greenland Road that will suit your taste. It's on the 37th."

"Greenlane Road? I've just come to London, but it's a suburb, isn't it?"

"I can hear it, you are an American. Although it is a suburb, it can't change its good taste."

They didn't talk for too long, the square was still so quiet that there was only the wind, and even the mobile stall was still only the one selling hot dogs.

When Oliver came back with two hot dogs, Jim had left.

Inside the bill, Jim had included his business card, plain white and unremarkable, with his name and contact information on it.

"Well," he whispered to himself, looking at the two hot dogs in his hand, one of which he bit into.Speaking of which, British hot dogs are not much different from American hot dogs.

And the other piece, Oliver intends to donate to beggars to help this poor 'tramp'.

"Try it, big detective." Oliver squatted in front of the unkempt beggar, "These hot dogs taste like the ones I eat in America."

The homeless man glanced warily at the person in front of him, "How did you recognize me?"

Sherlock was looking for and calculating where there was a flaw in himself, he was pretending to be a beggar and even Mycroft couldn't find him, but Oliver recognized him from a distance, there must be something he missed today.

"Intuition, it's talent," Oliver repeated. "Try it."

Sherlock took the hot dog but didn't eat it right away, that's right, after all, he has Mrs. Hudson, who is not a housekeeper but better than a housekeeper, and John, a caring cohabitant, to take care of the food, so that he won't run out to sleep on the street hungry.

"Do you know who you were talking to just now?" Sherlock lowered his voice to fit his current role.

Oliver clamped the postcard just now with two fingers, and read out the letters on it, "Professor Jim Moriaty. I know him, what's wrong?"

Sherlock's expression changed again and again, and finally he spoke with difficulty, "What do you know about him?"

"Professor of mathematics, consultant to criminals, mentor to European criminal gangs. There are many more, which one do you want to hear?"

"The CIA's hands are really long enough." Sherlock pursed his lips, wondering what his control freak brother would think when he heard that, and it was only in recent years that they got Moriaty's information.

"If Moriaty hadn't sent his business to the Middle East, the CIA wouldn't have investigated him in such detail."

"Williams, have you read this business card seriously?"

Oliver frowned and lowered his head to carefully read the letters on the business card, making sure there was no special password information

"The back," Sherlock reminded maliciously.

Oliver turned over the back of the business card, and there were a few words written brightly on the clean white background 'Call me, Jim's crib is always waiting for you. '

crib?It is probably a breeding ground for darkness and corruption.

Oliver wanted to tear up the business card now, if Moriaty hadn't given him some information and he might still have the possibility to get the words out of Mriaty's mouth.

So what about consulting criminals, high IQ crimes?As long as he is still human, he cannot escape the control of Oliver's ability.

————————————————————————————————————————

When Oliver came back to the hotel room with breakfast, Hotch was packing the paper bag.Glass windows and dark curtains keep out the harsh white light reflected by the winter wind and snow.

He put the steaming sandwiches and black tea on the table, the hot dog in the morning was a bit too greasy.

Hotch took the sandwich and took a bite, "It's not as delicious as yours."

"I remember you were not picky before." Oliver chuckled.

"Where were you just now?"

"Walk around the museum. I'm somewhat sure of my thoughts."

"Who did you meet?" This was a statement. Hotch knew that the murderer would not commit the crime in the early morning, but it did not rule out that there were accomplices who came to observe the scene at this time.

"Let the experts at the museum take out the Koh-i-Noor for appraisal. I suspect that the ones in the showcase are fakes."

Hotch's hand holding the paper cup paused, the tea-brown surface was rippling with tea stains flowing down the cup wall.He speeded up and finished the sandwich, "Are you sure?"

"Yes. I think I saw the mastermind just now. I shouldn't call him that," Oliver thought for a moment. "He's the one who helped plan it."

"You didn't catch him."

"I can't catch it, at least I can't catch it now." Oliver pursed his lips, "That man is almost the king of the European underground world. He loves crime and loves to consult about it. His name is on the blacklist, and it is impossible to actually catch him unless he chooses to commit suicide."

"Is he on the CIA list?"

"Yes, it was only added in the last few years, because the CIA only found his information in the last few years."

Oliver blamed the CIA without any guilt. Faced with the strength of the professor, the few agents arranged by the CIA in Europe could not do much, mainly relying on the memory of Oliver's previous life for help.

No one can forget this name.

"The murderer put the stump in front of the Koh-i-Noor showcase because it is a curse, and the murderer wants people to believe in this curse, so that people will put all their energy on the curse and its story, and ignore the Koh-i-Noor itself .They would never guess that a collection with cursed powers would be a fake."

"And the bloody handprint on Tutankhamun's golden crown is another intention. Remember when you said that there was infighting in the murderer's team? That's the problem," Hotch drank the last drop of black tea in the paper cup, got up and removed it. Pulling on the coat on the hanger and starting to tie his striped tie in front of the mirror, Oliver walked over to help.

"The reason why Tutankhamun's pyramid is the best preserved among the pyramids discovered by archeology in recent years is that there is another fake tomb on top of his tomb as a cover, so that the real tomb was not dug up by tomb robbers. , one of the murderers is not willing to do this, and this bloody handprint is just reminding us of the correct way of thinking. The truth beneath the falsehood."

Smoothing out the wrinkles on the shirt, Hotch took the file bag and walked out the door with Oliver. Oliver took off the warm cashmere scarf around his neck and gave it to Hotch.

"It's cold outside, and it's probably cooling down again. Christmas is coming."