[Comprehensive] Mrs. Holmes Daily

At the same time, Baker Street.

Sherlock's cell phone was thrown on the corner of the sofa by the owner, and it was set to automatically dial, but he obviously had no hope of getting through, because he hadn't looked at the cell phone since just now.

Scotland Yard has been busy, and Donovan and other police officers have shown that they are not in the service area... If it is not a large-scale strike by Scotland Yard, or someone deliberately blocked their signals.

……

As the promising acting inspector of Scotland Yard, Lestrade never imagined that one day he would end up hacking into the government's internal website illegally.

"I have connected to the electronic eye video library of the Transportation Bureau."

He rubbed his face:

"But there are [-] electronic eyes in London. The codes and areas are all encrypted. It is impossible to tell which one is the video near St. Mary's Hospital, and we don't know the license plate number of Vichy's taxi... need to open one by one. Are you looking for it?"

"Then it will be dark by the time you find it... Besides, what I'm looking for isn't a car, it's her."

The action on Sherlock's computer didn't stop, and he was still coding quickly, but he just freed one hand and took Lestrade's mobile phone:

"Traffic paralysis can only delay time. She won't sit in the car obediently and wait for the traffic jam to clear...she will run."

... Ludwig not only knows how to run, but also runs very fast.

When they were being chased by the Italian mafia, he could see that his little girlfriend would not even walk, but she could burst out with unparalleled sprinting potential when she was running for her life.

He glanced at the encrypted codes.

Obvious binary code, two conversions...and Chief of Transportation Arthless likes steak medium rare, swimming, vodka.

Then the solution would be...

Sherlock tapped the screen twice, quickly typed in a few numbers, and the name of the encrypted video file immediately showed the region it belonged to.

In this order, the electronic eye near St. Mary's Hospital should be in the middle.

Sherlock swiped down the page twice and frowned... It was too slow to pull down more than 2000 files.

So he selected all, deleted all the previous ones neatly, and found the video they needed in exactly one second.

Lestrade: "..."

The Director of the Transportation Bureau, Aslais, is his old buddy, but it is estimated that they will not be able to sit and eat together in the future, because Aslais will want to kill him.

"All right."

Sherlock didn't stop with both hands, turned on the live video of the street with one hand, and disrupted the waiting time for the last traffic light with one hand... The traffic lights all over the street are flashing back and forth like neon lights in a bar at this moment

There are two main entrances and two side entrances of St. Mary's Hospital. The roads facing the four gates in total are currently paralyzed. The streets are so twisted that no car can pass through them. It looks very spectacular from a distance.

Today, London collectively does not go to work or clock in, and Christmas comes early.

Of course, there are other paths leading to St. Mary's Hospital, but those paths are too long, and the detour will take longer than waiting for the traffic jam to clear, and Ludwig will not choose it.

Humans only have two legs after all.

Lestrade glanced at the live video on the phone, and his eyebrows were tightly knit together:

"London's traffic security system needs an upgrade, it's so blurry... why don't we use Mycroft's electronic eyes?"

Sherlock looked at the screen on the phone expressionlessly:

"I've already opened it on the computer, but Mycroft's home court is on Baker Street, and he installed St. Mary's Hospital two days ago, and it hasn't expanded to the street yet."

...London's traffic security system really needs to be upgraded. The pixels of the videos captured by the electronic eyes are too low, and people's faces can only be roughly seen, and even the facial features cannot be clearly seen.

Lestrade connected the screen to the computer to see it more clearly:

"Fortunately, she is wearing a wedding dress, and the features of black hair in a white dress are not common. We should be able to find her easily."

And Sherlock didn't answer, just stared at the phone screen without saying a word, his expression was terribly cold.

—What's wrong?

Lestrade followed his gaze and glanced at the computer.

Then, his gaze also froze.

"How is this going?"

After a while, he whispered in disbelief:

"Why... are there so many women in wedding dresses on the street?"

It seems that today London not only has a collective holiday, but also a collective marriage.

—a crude trick to confuse the view.

Lestrade used his mobile phone to zoom in on the women's faces, trying to find traces of his acquaintances on their faces.

"Donovan's cell phone still can't get through... have the homeless people you notified arrived at the hospital gate?"

"arrive."

Sherlock glanced at the surveillance video from the four gates of St. Mary's Hospital - registration, hugs, people coming and going, everything was normal.

Vichy hadn't reached the gate of St. Mary's Hospital yet.

He rested his fingers on the edge of the coffee table, and didn't look for the women one by one like Lestrade did—because there was no need.

If they dare to put these women on the street and dangle in front of the electronic eyes, it means that they are not worried at all that he can find out which one is Ludwig with such a low resolution.

People who claim to be gods will not make such a poor mistake.

He's staring at the screen, but he's not really looking - his mind is racing.

These brides who were rushing to St. Mary's Hospital on the street were exactly the same as his girlfriend in the style of their wedding dresses, their figures, and even the nail polish on their toenails... a complete imitation.

Some of them were running on the street, some were riding motorcycles, some were getting out of their cars, and some were getting into them.

But no matter which road they are on, they are heading towards St. Mary's Hospital without exception.

...wait, ride a motorcycle?

Ludwig doesn't know how to ride a motorcycle at all, if it is a complete imitation...why would there be a woman riding a motorcycle?

There is only one explanation - if there is only one woman riding a motorcycle among a group of women wearing wedding dresses, it is too easy to attract attention, and their purpose is to confuse the line of sight.

So, his little girlfriend, the real Ludwig, is riding a...motorcycle?

……

"I was misled."

Sherlock stood up suddenly, and found his mobile phone from the corner of the sofa. The background was still dialing automatically, and he reopened a window:

"I always thought that Vichy was going to St. Mary's Hospital, so I ruled out a few paths that were too far away... But now it seems that she took the path."

Lestrade looked up:

"You mean, she will take a long detour? That's impossible. She is in a hurry to meet the cafe owner for the last time. If she takes a long detour, she won't be able to run in time."

"What if she didn't use to run?"

Sherlock's face was as cold as frozen soil buried under snow for 100 years in the North Pole:

"I knew she didn't know any motorized vehicles, so I completely ignored that... She could have grabbed a motorcycle so that the time she took to get around the long distance was about the same as the time it took her to walk through the crowd."

"Motor? Where did she get the motorcycle from?"

Sherlock looked tense:

"Judging from the style of those fake brides riding, it should be the police motorcycle of the traffic police."

"...she robbed the police's motorcycle?"

Lestrade held his forehead:

"I didn't say... Sherlock, your girlfriend is simply too bold, isn't she afraid of falling to her death?"

"She is afraid of ghosts, but she has never been afraid of death."

Sherlock strode up and down in the apartment, finally showing a trace of anxiety:

"There must be another way... there must be another way."

"Don't worry, Vichy hasn't appeared in the surveillance cameras at the four entrances of St. Mary's Hospital...at least it means that she is still safe now."

……Safety?

No, she is not safe at all.

Because in addition to the four gates, St. Mary's Hospital has another entrance, which has to bypass the entire hospital and cross Queen's Road.

The distance was too far to be ignored by him.

And Ludwig happens to be familiar with this road, she just passed it yesterday - secluded and narrow, it is the best choice to avoid traffic jams and start motorbikes.

That was the way to the morgue, the exit of the dead... but her entrance.

If she really snatched the motorcycle, she could just drive the motorcycle in, and then go directly to the ward of the cafe owner from the elevator dedicated to transporting corpses. Spotted by any bum he puts at the front gate.

……

This is by no means hopeless.

There must be another way.

Sherlock's gaze was terribly dark...but in those deep, dark pupils, there seemed to be a faint fire burning.

Little by little bonfires are gradually connected into one piece... If the fire is bigger, it will burn to the other side of the river.

Seconds ticked... and another few seconds passed.

Holding the phone, he suddenly started texting quickly.

"Have you figured out a way?"

"Ah."

Sherlock hooked the corner of his mouth, but there was no smile in his eyes:

"There is one last method."

Lestrade looked at his expression, and faintly had a bad feeling in his heart.

Sure enough, in the next second, he heard Sherlock say in a soft and deep voice:

"Blow up the hospital, let's do it... After all, throwing a dynamite is much faster than going around the back door of the hospital, isn't it?"

Lestrade stood up and slid the computer on his lap onto the sofa: "Are you crazy?"

"Crazy?"

Sherlock said calmly:

"not yet."

Lestrade stood up and wanted to stop Sherlock from sending text messages, but Sherlock had already gone through the experience of being robbed of his mobile phone last time, so of course he couldn't easily succeed again.

Lestrade was punched and fell to the ground, but Sherlock just turned indifferently, and quickly typed another line, probably specifying the type of explosive.

"It's useless... It's useless if you blow up the hospital. She only needs to step into the hospital, and the hospital will still explode, and she will also have no bones left."

Sherlock paused because of the words "no bones left".

Immediately afterwards, his typing speed became faster, as if he was about to fly.

"It seems that you didn't watch the game video carefully. The explosions in the video simulation are sequential."

He kept on hand:

"Obviously, the explosion will start from the red sign of the hospital... and spread all the way to the internal medicine building. It will take at least 1 minute."

"One minute is not enough for her to escape..."

"It's not enough, but it's enough with the time I used the explosion as a warning."

"Sherlock! Think of how many children there are in the hospital! You can't do something like this just to warn her!"

"Children? I don't like children."

He pursed his lips:

"But don't worry, I said I'm not crazy-I will try not to hurt innocent people, and I will start from their warehouse."

Sherlock finished typing the last word and was about to press the "Send" button when Lestrade said:

"You're still too late."

He didn't know when he got up from the ground, lying on the edge of the sofa, staring at the laptop.

The tone was quiet, without the anger and excitement of the previous moment:

"You're too late... Ludwig has already entered the hospital."

Sherlock's hand froze in mid-air.

The send button was still not pressed after all.

He held up his mobile phone, as if he forgot to put it down, and looked at Lestrade slowly:

"What did you say?"

Lestrade covered his abdomen with one hand, and turned the computer screen to Sherlock with the other:

"People are gone."

On the monitoring screen of the electronic eye, a large number of women in white wedding dresses were mixed in the cleared traffic and crowds, like white waves in a sea of ​​colors, following the crowds, slowly disappearing into alleys and corners.

The automatic dialing that has been going on in the background of the mobile phone did not know when it was connected, and Donovan's mocking voice came from the mobile phone:

"Hey, freak."

—the line is connected.

But no one paid attention to Donovan. The eyes of the two men in the room were fixed on the door of St. Mary's Hospital.

A second passed.

Two seconds passed.

Three seconds... Sherlock's palm was cold.

……

1 minutes passed.

Registration at the gate of the hospital, hugs, people coming and going, everything is normal.

No bombs, no fireworks, no cheers, no wailing... nothing.

Nothing happened.