Blessing Potion [Comprehensive British and American]

"What... what?" Cyril asked stammeringly.

"Detect the case and catch the bad guys. Which sentence is not in English, which makes it difficult for you to understand?" Sherlock still looked expectantly at this partner who seemed to be able to develop an adventure together.

"Bad guy?" Cyril swallowed.

"Hmm~"

"Where are the bad guys?"

"You have to be my partner before I can tell you." Sherlock lowered his hat.

"Where to catch it? You have to tell me this first, and I'm short on time."

"Here, and...Kensington Palace Gardens, this is the initial stage, and I'm not sure about the rest. If our routes coincide, why can't we cooperate? Two people are better than one, right?"

Sherlock looked straight over, and Cyril suddenly felt that this Muggle might have mastered some unknown hypnotism.

However, Kensington Palace Gardens is indeed one of the places he is going...

"Then you promise me, I'll accompany you to catch the bad guys, and you help me find some cuties." Cyril stared at the disturbing gadfly flying around Sherlock's wrist, and said slowly.

"make a deal."

"Pleasant to work with."

Hands clasped.

Sherlock instantly took out a small electronic screen from his overalls pocket, and Cyril leaned over curiously.

"This is a rudimentary GPS locator. I took it from my McCoff. The suspect is actually at this point." (Note: Coconut paid special attention to the time when GPS was invented)

"suspects?"

"Mr. Henderson. That's the lady's husband. We must help her quickly..."

"Looking for evidence and removing suspicion?"

"..." Sherlock looked over with a hesitant look on his face, met Cyril's gray-green eyes unexpectedly, and then gave him a very elegant look.

"I just said clearly that we are catching bad guys." Sherlock's expression seemed to be reconsidering the reliability of this ally's IQ.

"...Oh, so Ms. Henderson asked you to help her take her husband away...well. That's reasonable." Cyril nodded indiscriminately.

"Heh." Diandian in his pocket let out a faint, mocking chuckle.

Cyril put his hand into his pocket, groped and pinched Diandian's mouth.

It's hard to imagine that Dian Dian, who was still clever and cute a week ago, has become this style of painting after spending a few days with the professor...

┭┮﹏┭┮I regretted crying and couldn't make a sound!

"So your plan?"

"The key evidence is in the hands of Mrs. Henderson, but because of my age, she refuses to hand it over to me, and for some well-known reasons...so she is not at ease handing it over to the London police."

"Hmm, understand, Aurors are always the last ones to show up."

"Auror?"

"...The other name for the police in our place is like a note or something." Cyril explained with a sincere face.

"So let's go in and get the evidence first. According to my observation, the key evidence is some documents and a pocket camera. Mrs. Henderson must have put it in a very safe place, and we need to steal it first."

Sherlock took out another folded piece of paper from his pocket, on which the whole house was drawn in detail, the entire layout of the two floors, and the gray-blue eyes sparkling.

"..."

Cyril met the expectant eyes of the other party, took a deep breath, grinned, and finally failed to boast out of conscience: "The plan is good!"

Boy, are you sure you're not here to mess things up?Are you sure Mrs. Henderson really wanted to arrest her husband?Why doesn't it feel right!

"We'll go in through the window in a while. There's a kitchen window behind. After 10 minutes, Mrs. Henderson will open the window to let the air in after finishing her tea. We have 8 minutes to go in. You are responsible for touching the fire alarm." Alarm, I'm watching Mrs. Henderson."

"... through the window? Fire alarm???"

"You didn't go through the window, did you! You can just order anything." Sherlock's eyes began to look disgusted.

"..." Cyril opened his mouth, and finally nodded heavily.

Although he has never lived in the British Muggle world, this is considered a home break-in... and deliberately set fires... I don't know if he has been arrested, and the organizing committee will come to rescue him.

Does the organizing committee know how to get to the Metropolitan Police Department?

Cyril, who deeply felt that he was on a pirate ship, sighed sadly.

"Then start to act now!" Sherlock took the lead and ran to the street.

Cyril quickly followed.

In the end, the two of them got in through a narrow window, and seeing Sherlock's face that had just been cleaned and dusted, Cyril finally knew why the boy was so dirty just now.

"Go and fix the fire alarm. I'll go up first. Mrs. Henderson is listening to the radio and having afternoon tea at this point." Sherlock patted the ashes on his body, and then ran up the stairs nimbly like a cat.

Cyril looked around, and finally took a newspaper from the shelf next to it, rolled it up, and lit it with his wand.

The newspaper burned quickly, emitting puffs of black smoke. Cyril stretched out his arms and lifted the small roll of newspapers up close to the smoke alarm.

The red light of the white smoke alarm is flashing. In this day and age, those who can install an alarm at home are either rich or expensive. It can be seen that Mrs. Henderson's family is really rich.

However, the smoke was facing the alarm, and there was no response after being smoked for half a minute. This has exceeded the bottom line of sensitivity that an alarm should have, and the newspaper is almost burning your fingers.

Cyril put down the newspaper angrily, stomped it out with his foot, and cast a vanishing effect.

This is a fake alarm, right? !Is this alarm poisonous? ? ?Is there something stuck in it? !

Cyril paced back and forth, thinking about how to solve the problem in front of him.

He'd better go up and study the structure of the alarm. In this case, it seems that the probe is blocked... Clean it up and it will probably be fine.

blocked...

Suddenly a bright light flashed through Cyril's mind. Why did he never think that ash balls like to stay in places with heavy smoke, and their bodies will increase in volume as much as possible like a sponge absorbing water for Absorb more soot!

The book says how to get rid of soot balls?

It seems to be using cold wind!

Xi Ruier took out the talisman paper in the Qiankun bag, quickly drew a wind-inducing spell on it, and pasted it on the alarm.

Ten seconds later, a mass of black briquettes forced its way out from the crack of the smoke alarm, and slowly rolled away...

Cyril poked her waist proudly and wiped the sweat from her brow.

"That's right, add 25 points." Diandian said sullenly in his pocket.

Cyril made a "yeah" sign and relit the roll of newspaper.

The smoke alarm sounded in an instant, and the whole house was going to "rain" in a short time.

Cyril climbed out of the window as originally planned.

However, probably because I was too flustered because I did something bad, I didn't find a good foothold when I went down, and I stepped on the air.

There's just a trash can underneath...

When Cyril struggled to crawl out of the trash can, he spent a full five seconds hesitating whether to blow his wand and abandon the game...

In the end, he put away his wand and fumbled the screaming little bit out of the trash can.

Finding a blind spot with no people at all, Cyril took out his wand, and gave himself and Diandian a dozen "cleaning up" each.

Too much cleansing spells made him feel all wrong.

"Oh! Cyril, I seem to be disfigured!" Diandian exclaimed suddenly.

Cyril trembled in fright, looked around, but fortunately there were no Muggles...

"What's the matter?!" Cyril growled.

"Look... I'm blue..." Diandian wailed and stretched out one arm and leg to show Cyril the camouflage on her body.

"...Actually, this is pretty cool!" Cyril roughly glanced at Diandian's body, but instead walked towards the previous trash can.

"What are you doing, stop, put me back to my original shape first!" Diandian tugged on Cyril's collar in a broken state.

"I suspect...there is...in the trash can..." Cyril walked forward sullenly, stretched out his wand and pointed at the trash can to "reveal quickly".

"Look, ink elf!" Cyril held a little guy in his hand that looked like an octopus that looked completely different from an elf, and excitedly gave it to Dian on his shoulder to look at.

"Add 45 points." Diandian moaned helplessly.

"A long time ago, wizards would keep an ink elf. The liquid they sprayed would not fade and could be used as ink." Cyril put the ink elf in his hand on a lawn, and the three elves After two runs, he disappeared.

"So can I recover? You said they won't fade?" Diandian continued to moan unrequited love.

"Okay, just go back and ask Dean Snape to give you a cleaning agent." Cyril clapped his hands nonchalantly.

"That's great, I have to spend another day..." Diandian's voice became weaker and weaker.

At this moment in the Hogwarts auditorium, Dumbledore teased Snape in a low voice, as if he had said something, Snape folded his arms as if it had nothing to do with him, but anyone who knew him could see his mood good.

"Syril, here!" Sherlock also ran out without knowing when, with a bunch of bulging things wrapped in the front of his clothes, beckoning his companions to leave as soon as possible.

The two ran wildly for a while, the London fire engine had already arrived, and Baker Street was bustling, and the two barely stopped when they reached a turning intersection.

"So you got it?" Cyril asked, leaning on his knee.

"Got it. It's more serious than I thought." Sherlock was also panting.

"What's wrong with him? I mean Mr. Henderson."

"I always thought he was doing some sneaky business. Now it seems that he sold a lot of things that shouldn't be sold."

"Oh." Cyril nodded in understanding.

Sherlock took a deep look at the boy in front of him, and said slowly, "So...the game is about to begin, Cyril. Stay, or leave?"