[Comprehensive] Mrs. Holmes Daily

After watching the game video, Lestrade did not pause for a second, and immediately dug out Sherlock's address book:

"Call her now and tell her to stop... why didn't you take a note? Which is her number?"

Sherlock pulled his phone out of his hand:

"She didn't have her mobile phone... she changed her clothes and there were no pockets on the wedding dress."

He squinted his eyes and played a string of numbers quickly with his fingers.

His expression was calmer than Lestrade's.

"And even if it is connected, it will be useless... She will never put the cafe owner in danger. Even if it is a corpse, she will probably run up to it naively, trying to rescue the corpse."

... If it were not urgent, Lestrade would have joked: "Oh, poor Sherlock, I have heard your heartbreak."

……

But he has no time to think about these now, he just took out his mobile phone:

"Didn't you also install a locator on her earrings? You tracked her location, and I asked Scotland Yard to intercept... Make sure to stop her before she enters the hospital. Atum seems to want to blow up the hospital. "

While talking on the phone, Sherlock pulled out the laptop from under the sofa cushion and opened the GPS reception page.

"I have no way to track her location... That earring is connected to a satellite positioning system, and the terminal is at the Second Sherlock Holmes Manor."

He paused and clenched the phone with his fingers, but his expression didn't move:

"Only in the Second Manor...my father's game room, only his, Mycroft and I's fingerprints can open it. If you enter by force, the air grid will be directly connected to a voltage of [-] volts."

"Then it can't be helped... Oh, the line is busy! Why is Scotland Yard busy at this hour!"

Lestrade took two steps in the drawing room:

"Are you calling Mycroft now? Sherlock, it's too late. I saw him go to Buckingham Palace... and it takes at most 10 minutes from Baker Street to St. Mary's Hospital. He can't have time to rush back to Holmes." Second estate."

"Who said I was calling him?"

Sherlock looked at the clock...not twenty minutes, because she was sure to let the taxi go as fast as possible.

At the fastest taxi speed, plus traffic lights and waiting...they only have 10 minutes.

And now, 3 minutes have passed.

"I called Old John and forced my way in... Have you contacted Scotland Yard?"

"Still in contact, but the line has been busy... All service desks and internal lines are unreachable."

Sherlock's eyes were cold: "Then you don't need to call any more... This is someone deliberately busying the line."

Lestrade frowned and looked at Sherlock: "Didn't you call Mycroft? Then who are you calling?"

Listening to the beeping sound in the mobile phone, Sherlock's eyes became more and more serious:

"Old John."

"What did you call him for?"

No one connected to the phone, and Sherlock dialed again.

Old John was really old, and his walking speed...was too slow.

"Let him open the door."

There was no excess flesh on his long fingers, and the phalanges were visible when he bent hard or clenched something.

His tone was still calm, but his fingers were clenched unconsciously:

"You can't contact anyone now, there's no way to close the road, and I can't let London's homeless people surround St. Mary's Hospital hand in hand in a few minutes... and I need her exact location to intercept her."

"But you will be hit by an electric current if you force the door open! Thirty thousand volts, Sherlock...can roast you in a second. Do you expect that poor old man to survive?"

Lestrade looked at Sherlock's emotionless face in shock:

"You want old John to die... Sherlock, you can't do that."

Sherlock said indifferently:

"He doesn't have to open the door himself."

"There's always going to be someone dying."

"At least Vichy won't die."

Sherlock raised his head, his expression extremely indifferent:

"Of course someone will die. People will die every moment in the world... The only difference is that it has something to do with me, and it has nothing to do with me."

... people are dying in the world all the time.

Men, women, old, young.

What does the disappearance of those faces have to do with him?Who cares if a goldfish dies?

However, only she can't...absolutely not.

……

There was a "click" in the hand, which was the sound of an old-fashioned telephone being picked up.

Old John's old voice sounded on the other end of the phone:

"little Master?"

Just as Sherlock was about to speak, the phone was snatched away... Lestrade stared at Sherlock closely, and hung up the phone.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes dangerously:

"Give me the phone."

Lestrade held up the phone:

"Unless you promise not to let innocent people die."

"No one in the world is innocent."

Sherlock's tone was soft and creepy:

"Rogge, you should know what kind of consequences your actions will bring to you... If Vichy dies because of you..."

He paused, as if he felt that this assumption lacked practicality, so he didn't continue.

...my name is Greg, not Roger.

But now is obviously not the time to argue about this issue, Lestrade took a deep breath:

"Sherlock, I won't let you do this... Even if you ask me to pay for Vichy's life afterwards, I won't let you make this call."

He looked straight at Sherlock without backing down:

"In order to save one person, pay another innocent person... I am a Scotland Yard police officer. I cannot understand your logic, and I will not let you implement it."

Sherlock raised his eyes and stared at him for a second.

... For those two seconds, it was as if Lestrade had experienced ice and fire at the same time.

Even, in Sherlock's gray eyes, he saw nothing but calmness.

Sherlock closed the GPS acceptance page on the computer without saying a word, and quickly opened another window.

He asked without pausing:

"The electronic code of the transportation system?"

Lestrade breathed a sigh of relief, and tensed his nerves again:

"That's out of my jurisdiction, but I can ask..."

"No, I have cracked it."

"What are you going to do?"

"It's too late to use people to intercept. It's obvious that Yatum has put a lot of effort into the busy line."

Sherlock's face was expressionless, but his typing fingers were getting faster and faster, which was dazzling.

He pressed the "enter" button, his gray eyes glowing in blue electronic light, making him look like a delicate robot.

"Then I have to...have a traffic jam."

……

The second hand was ticking forward, and the sound was like thunder... He finally understood her feelings for the past two days.

Every second that time moves forward, the heart sinks by a minute.

The irritating tick-tock vibration drives the air into the ear canal, vibrates the auditory ossicles... and then vibrates from the ear nerves to the heart.

So from the ears to the chest, it seemed to be ignited by this second sound, hot, flustered, and unable to breathe.

Yes... flustered, he was flustered.

No matter how calm he is, the pulse cannot be concealed, and the hormones cannot lie... He also has no way to deny that at this moment, his brain and the ticking of the second have merged into the same frequency.

Tick, that's not thunder.

That is a heavy hammer, to crush a person's heart into ashes bit by bit.

And at the same moment, on the other side of the street.

"Why can't we pass the car in front? There is a dotted line on the ground! You can drive over! You can!"

"Sorry, it's easy to rear-end that way."

"Then there is the one on the left. It drives too slowly. Why do we have to follow behind it slowly?"

The driver had a cigarette in his mouth, but didn't light it, just held it in his mouth.

He said helplessly:

"Miss, I'm almost turning my car into an airplane."

"Obviously not... Look at your speedometer, it's only 280 meters per hour..."

"... 280 meters can't even fire, this is 280 kilometers... Oh, what's going on in front?"

The driver slammed on the brakes, followed by the sound of brakes around him.

"Damn it! There were 50 seconds left before the green light... Suddenly there are only ten seconds left. It's really crazy."

He blows out the cigarette butt in his mouth:

"Have all the taxes we paid to the traffic bureau been used to drink vodka? The traffic lights are also drunk."

"What does it mean?"

Ludwig leaned on the leather back of the front seat, looking at the road ahead:

"Can't we make it through?"

"Of course I can't."

The driver leisurely pointed to the front:

"Look, not only one street light, but the traffic lights at several intersections ahead are out of order, and it's rush hour again, so I guess it will be useful to wait for the traffic police to come... Oh, the traffic police have already arrived, but it looks like they are here It won't be soon either."

A street with traffic lights out of order?

What a coincidence.

Didn't Mr. Holmes say that there has never been such a thing as a coincidence in the world?

Ludwig lowered her eyes and clenched her fingers tightly... She could have pinched the leather chair in front of her, but she didn't, and her nails were still deeply sunken into her flesh.

...it was an involuntary act, and the pain did not calm her.

It's that when she bites her lip, or pinches herself, she doesn't feel pain at all...because she doesn't realize what she's doing.

……

The driver turned on the morning news, and a vibrant female voice came:

"...So, at ten past seven, what new things happened on this earth? A female hippopotamus successfully gave birth to a baby hippopotamus in the London Zoo..."

Other words are not important, Ludwig can only hear one word.

... It's ten past seven.

He said, wake him up when she comes... Can she wake him up?

Ludwig looked at the twisted and twisted road outside the car window... There was no gap at all for cars to pass through, at most for motorcycles to pass through.

The overall quality of drivers in London is very high, so far, not many people are honking and making noise.

"How long does it take to walk from here to St. Mary's Hospital?"

"Here? Not far away, about 15 minutes."

15 minutes...too slow.

But it's better than waiting here.

She lifted her skirt, but before the driver could react, she jumped out of the car and ran forward along the gap between the cars.

The driver showed half of his head through the window: "...the fare!"

Ludwig turned a deaf ear to it... What was the fare for the car, she didn't even have time to bring the money out, and the Bawang car sat down.

A few more traffic policemen came on the street. They were riding police motorcycles, parked on the side of the road, and were locking the cars.

Ludwig's eyes lit up, and she ran over quickly. Before the poor traffic policeman could react, she had already stepped on the motorcycle with one leg. She didn't care about the skirt she was wearing, and pulled him out of the dumbfounded traffic policeman's hand. key.

Start, throttle, go—

Of course it's not that easy.

The young traffic policeman finally came to his senses after being stunned for half a second. He quickly grasped the keys of the motorcycle and said sternly:

"Miss, this is a police car."

Ludwig stepped on the pedal, the car lock was held by someone, and he couldn't start it even if he wanted to:

"A police car isn't a car?"

The young traffic policeman was stunned: "Of course it's a car, but you can't use it..."

"Why can't it be used? What belongs to the state and not to the taxpayers? Why invent a car if it can't help people in times of crisis?"

"..." What kind of nonsense is this?But why can't he refute?

Ludwig turned his head and inserted the key back in again:

"Sir, I'm rushing to get married now... If you let me pass here, I promise you won't get divorced in the future."

"..."

The traffic policeman looked at the wedding dress she was wearing, and then at her anxious expression... This girl was not lying, her eyes were red with anxiety.

…Weddings and funerals are the two most important events in a person's life.

He took a step back and made way:

"It must be returned, I can't afford it... go."

"……thanks."

Stiletto shoes are not good for riding a motorcycle, so Ludwig simply kicked off the shoes... With a bang on the accelerator, she galloped crookedly along the edge of the sidewalk, and the white skirt flew up behind her.

The traffic policeman stared blankly at her unusually familiar yet unusually weird driving style, and suddenly felt that he had made a big mistake.

... This lady, really knows how to drive a motorcycle?

Or will you only step on the accelerator and ride a bicycle?