[Comprehensive] Mrs. Holmes Daily

10 minutes later, the performance hall of the theater.

The people who came were not only the relevant personnel of the troupe, but also the reporters who had been guarding the theater all the time. Several of them stood out from the encirclement and blocked the middle of the road with a huge lens on their shoulders.

Watanabe Tsubaki wiped the sweat from his brow: "Officer... what's going on here? Why did you call us here all of a sudden?"

Lei Bo sat on the chair with his legs crossed, looking impatient.

Kawayama Tsunosuke's exquisitely feminine face was indifferent, as if the murder had nothing to do with him.

While the rest of the troupe stood or leaned, a mezzo-soprano rubbed her hands nervously.

Lestrade silently looked at Sherlock who was still fiddling with the phone.

Anna Takemura stood by the window alone, she had nothing to do with herself, she folded her arms and stared at the bright sunshine outside the window.

The white Marlboro cigarette between her fingers, the curly shreds of tobacco dissipated in the brilliant almost transparent light.

Lestrade turned to Sergeant Edgar: "Why are there reporters?"

Officer Edgar: "That's from the Legal News and the BBC. With the approval of the above, I can't stop them."

"Clear them out - no matter what method is used, and then lock the door, and all other people can't get close... You know the identity of Sherlock, he can't be published in the newspaper."

Officer Edgar nodded solemnly: "Also, Jiro Uehara would go out to read at this time every day. I didn't see him when I called for someone...do I need to send someone to look for it?"

Lestrade waved his hand indifferently, and glanced at Sherlock from a distance:

"We need to look for it, but the murderer cannot be Uehara Jiro. He has a clear alibi."

……

It's no surprise that Sherlock didn't show this to Uehara Jiro.

He frowned:

"Vichy is still in the bathroom? Can't you ask a female police officer to call her out?"

Lestrade: "I understand that you want to wait for her to listen to your reasoning, but Donovan, the only female police officer, is taking pictures in Victoria Tower Gardens to collect evidence."

Sherlock was expressionless: "I'm not waiting for her...why am I waiting for her? No, we can start now."

He stood up, put his coat on the chair, and walked to the front of the stage.

He didn't deliberately raise the volume, but as soon as his low cello-like voice came out, the rustling performance hall gradually fell silent.

"Your heroine, at this time three days ago, the body was packed in a piano and transported to the gate of the Covent Garden Theater-I can now explain this case."

He looked at the closed door—his freshly baked yesterday, his immature little girlfriend, Ludwig, fell into the toilet and couldn't get out.

He pursed his lips, looked away from the door, and continued:

"It was not Anna Takemura who came to London on the night of the murder, but she covered her face and pretended to be Anna Takemura's deceased."

The troupe members in the auditorium were in an uproar.

"Before the deceased came to London, she received a letter from Kawanosuke Kawayama - through which the murderer told the deceased to let her quietly come to his apartment in London and kill her there... "

Sherlock is unaffected:

"That's why Xiangzi Sakuma pretended to be Anna Takemura—in order not to be discovered. She firmly believed in the murderer's sudden request, and the murderer must be someone she knew and was close to."

"No, my letter has only one haiku, and there is no way to convey any information at all! You must be mistaken! I am not a murderer!"

Kawayama Tsunosuke suddenly stood up excitedly, the indifferent expression on his face no longer existed.

"I didn't say that you were the murderer... The murderer added information to the letter you wrote to the deceased, using lemonade—you can't see it at room temperature, but you can reveal the characters as long as you heat it..."

When Sherlock said this, he habitually stretched out his hand:

"Letter, lighter, Vichy."

Lestrade: "...Vichy is not here, where is the letter? I'll give it to you."

Sherlock looked at the closed door again, his expression remained the same, but there was a hint of impatience in his tone:

"Oh, she wouldn't ask such a stupid question, she would just go through both pockets."

Lestrade took out the letter from Sherlock's coat, and took out his own lighter:

"Don't compare me to your girlfriend because I'm not your boyfriend...give."

It was rare for Sherlock to choke on Lestrade.

He shook the letter by the side of the flame, and yellowish writing gradually appeared on the letter paper.

"When citric acid is heated, the monohydrate decomposes into an anhydrate."

He extinguished the flame, without even looking at it, and tossed the letter to Lestrade.

"...Come quickly, Victoria Tower, please don't be known."

Lestrade squinted his eyes, making out the blurry small characters.

"This is left-handed writing, Sherlock, you can't use this to identify the murderer...Why is there a sheet of music on it?"

Sherlock: "That's another code that needs to be deciphered...Some things happened yesterday, and I can't concentrate on deciphering it for the time being, but I can be sure that this code has nothing to do with the case."

Lestrade understood: "It must be about Vichy--except for being in love, I can't think of anything that can make you lose your concentration."

Sherlock ignored him, and turned to face the singers in the auditorium with different expressions, either slumped or calmly watching:

"And the murderer who wrote these words lived in the same room with Kawayama Tsunosuke, and the person who was most likely to tamper with the letter - Jiro Uehara."

A few seconds of silence.

Lestrade said to Sergeant Edgar solemnly:

"Immediately go to Uehara Jiro—send the rest of the staff."

Officer Edgar: "Why do you trust Sherlock so much? Jiro Uehara has a full alibi..."

Inspector Lestrade interrupted: "At once, that's an order."

Anna Takemura looked out of the window calmly, as if she didn't hear Sherlock's words.

A few pigeons stayed on the head of the fountain not far away, and the lily ring on her finger reflected dazzling light.

Lestrade turned to Sherlock: "If the murderer is Jiro Uehara, how should his alibi be explained? After all, he was eating supper when the deceased was killed."

"I'm going to ask Miss Anna Takemura."

Sherlock smiled slightly:

"Because of the time of death of the deceased, hands and feet were passive."

Leibo was the first to stand up and said in disbelief:

"Anna? No, it's impossible for Anna to have anything to do with this matter!"

Sherlock said slowly: "The deceased is your wife, and Anna Takemura is your lover—you should be very clear that your wife loves your lover."

Leibo's mouth moved, as if he wanted to say something.

But after he saw Sherlock's knowing expression.

He leaned on the armrest of the soft chair in the studio, and sat back heavily on the chair, as if he suddenly aged two years.

Kawanoyama Tsunosuke excitedly wanted to refute something, but after seeing Leibo's slumped and ashamed expression, his expression sank a little bit.

"Could it be...could it be..."

"That's right, Sakuma Xiangzi has a gender identity disorder, and this has fallen into an endless loop..."

His tone was mocking and full of disdain:

"Anna Takemura loves Uehara Jiro - she deliberately imitates all of Uehara Jiro's living habits, which can be seen from her tone of voice and small movements of smoking... Uehara Jiro loves Sakuma Xiangzi, and Sakuma Xiangzi loves -"

Hearing this, Anna Takemura moved her fingers.

But she is still like a silent sculpture, silent, as if isolated from the noisy performance hall.

Sherlock paused dramatically: "—You, Miss Anna Takemura."

The slender woman's smoke, the red spot of light, has almost burned to her finger, but she can't seem to feel it.

"The motive of Jiro Uehara's murder is hidden in these letters - the German pianist Schmidt who committed suicide by jumping into the sea half a month ago."

Sherlock remembered this time that his girlfriend Ludwig was not by his side.

He went over by himself, took out a small stack of envelopes from his coat pocket, and threw them to Lestrade:

"It's still left-handed, and the font is exactly the same as the hidden text on Kawayama Sukunosuke's letter... Uehara Jiro and Schmidt met ten years ago because of the piano. Judging from the contents of the letter, Schmidt went to Japan four years ago , met the 'God-given woman' written by Uehara Jiro, and fell in love with her."

Lestrade flipped through the letter and raised his head in surprise: "You mean that Schmidt also fell in love with Sakuma Xiangzi?"

"Oh, Lestrade, it's clearly written in the letter...Schmidt confessed his love, guilt, and inextricability to Uehara Jiro...In the end, he committed suicide because he couldn't bear Sakuma Xiangzi's closeness ——This is also Jiro Uehara’s motive for killing.”

Sherlock explained impatiently:

"His famous song "Sunset" was written four years ago, and it was obviously added to the format of Japan's Gagaku East Journey—the piano on which the corpse was transported was also Schmidt's relic."

Lestrade: "So Jiro Uehara used Schmidt's piano to transport Sakuma Sakuma's body as a kind of... atonement ceremony?"

Sherlock's eyes are deep:

"That's right. From the perspective of Jiro Uehara, who didn't understand the gender identity disorder of the deceased, Sakuma Shouko's behavior directly led to the death of his friend. That's why he came up with the idea of ​​killing atonement."

Lestrade handed the letter to the recorder standing aside: "Record the reasoning just now."

Officer Edgar, just out to find the missing Uehara Jiro.

Lestrade looked serious:

"I read it just now. In the letter, Uehara Jiro used a German name, plus it's left-handed... So, Sherlock, these still don't prove that Uehara Jiro is the murderer."

Sherlock said calmly: "After that, let's talk about the alibi first... Has Donovan returned? Oh, has Vichy been washed down the sewer?"

Lestrade looked at his phone: "Donovan has sent the file and it's being transmitted... As for your girlfriend, I can't help you."

Sherlock looked at the closed door of the performance hall again, and frowned imperceptibly.

"Uehara Jiro is the murderer, and Takemura Anna is the one who covered up the crime for Uehara Jiro along the way."

He suppressed the faint uneasiness in his heart, and turned to Anna Takemura:

"You didn't collude in advance, but just wishful thinking to cover up the crime for him - because, you know that Uehara Jiro himself doesn't care about being discovered."

Lestrade looked at Anna Takemura and then at Sherlock, his brows were deeply tangled together:

"So, Anna Takemura put the stones in the piano? But the piano was already checked in at that time, how did she put it in?"

"Pretend to be a porter from a logistics company—you can ask Mrs. Folsom, she saw a five-foot short man next door..."

Sherlock's eyes fell on Anna Takemura, and his voice was low and gentle:

"And this man is probably you in disguise—Miss Anna Takemura."

Lestrade: "But what about an alibi?"

"As long as the time of death of the corpse is overturned, all alibi cannot be established."

Sherlock looked stern, looking at the back of Anna Takemura:

"You didn't stay in Birmingham the night before, as you said. You rushed to London, somehow messed up the time of the deceased's death, and rushed back before eleven o'clock."

Anna Takemura finally turned her head, her beautiful eyes looked at Sherlock lightly, and there was a sarcasm in her clear eyes.

Lestrade: "Miss Anna Takemura, do you have anything to say about this?"

Her expression was calm, as if the person being suspected now was not her:

"As I have said, I reject any accusations without evidence-don't forget, I just learned to sing, and delaying the death of the corpse is too advanced for me."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes:

"Of course I have the evidence. Now I just need to find out what method you used to delay the death of the deceased—the most common is to cool the body. What did you use? Air conditioner? Ice? Lestrade—"

"Sherlock."

Lestrade held up the phone solemnly:

"According to the information sent by Donovan, the villa in Victoria Tower has no air conditioners, no refrigerators... and nothing that can freeze corpses."