[Comprehensive] Mrs. Holmes Daily

Anna Takemura smiled slightly, twisted her fingers on the door frame, extinguished the cigarette, and folded her arms leisurely.

Sherlock paused for a moment, took Lestrade's cell phone, and looked at the pictures frame by frame, and searched through those pictures with his gray eyes without blinking.

Lestrade said hesitantly: "Although you have never made a mistake, I am afraid that this time... you really made a mistake in your judgment."

Sherlock raised his head from the photo, and said in a calm tone, "Vichy...hasn't come yet?"

Lestrade: "It seems not."

He lowered his head and turned the picture again:

"If it were her, she would never question any of my reasoning without clear evidence."

Lestrade: "... As I said, don't compare me with your girlfriend. I am the acting inspector. Any judgment will affect the situation."

Sherlock throws the phone back to Lestrade:

"In the morning, Vichy and I went to examine Sakuma's body and cut open her stomach... She hardly ate because of thin body weight, so your forensic doctor did not consider the degree of digestion of food residue in the stomach to judge death time……"

He showed no displeasure, but said calmly and objectively:

"But I researched it, and I have enough reasons to judge that the real time of death of Sakuma Xiangzi was around eight o'clock in the evening... The new forensic report will come out tonight."

Lestrade was taken aback for a moment, and walked up uncomfortably: "Sherlock..."

From a distance, Sherlock met Anna Takemura's eyes.

There was no fear, no defiance in her eyes.

There was nothing in her eyes except calmness.

Sherlock withdrew his gaze: "I never make inferences with insufficient evidence... Takemura Anna brought the death time of the corpse earlier, and the most convenient way is to cool down...I can be sure that the alibi of Uehara Jiro and Takemura Anna is not tenable. of."

In the auditorium, every pair of eyes was on him.

And he didn't care about these gazes, he took out his phone and pressed it quickly, striding up and down below the stage.

Lestrade glanced at Sherlock, who was clearly agitated, and sent a text message to Officer Donovan:

"Go to Ludwig and tell her to come to Sherlock as soon as possible."

Sherlock suddenly said to the recorder on the side: "Call out the details of the Victoria Tower Garden Villa."

Recorder: "Sorry...why?"

Sherlock was expressionless, but his tone revealed irritability:

"If it was Vichy, she would never ask me why at this point—you just have to do it."

The recorder gave a mocking "ha" and called up the picture from the computer.

"Then I'm glad I'm not Miss Ludwig."

Sherlock took the laptop, and clicked through hundreds of pictures like a revolving lantern at a speed that ordinary people can't match.

He pursed his lips, his eyes suddenly froze.

Then he raised his head, his eyes like inorganic gems caught Anna Takemura, and slowly uttered a noun:

"dry ice."

Anna Takemura was taken aback.

Then, she raised the corners of her mouth and smiled very slowly.

No yes, no no.

Sherlock turned the laptop screen firmly to Lestrade, and there were only two enlarged thermos bottles on the screen.

Lestrade: "...this is a vacuum flask."

Sherlock said in a sarcastic tone: "Oh, of course this is a thermos - Lestrade, our eyes are not old and dim - what I want you to pay attention to is the crack on the top of the bottle."

Lestrade's face slowly sank.

"You mean..."

Sherlock stood up straight, walked up to Anna Takemura, and looked at her indifferently:

"That's right, you put dry ice in a vacuum flask, and use the dry ice to sublimate to cool down... A large bottle of dry ice is enough to cool you down for five or six hours..."

He turned around: "The evidence is the cracks in the vacuum flask—dry ice expands in volume at room temperature, not only the mouth of the bottle, but the inner liner of the entire bottle will crack... This is different from the usual gas explosion, and it can be easily identified. "

Anna Takemura was leaning against the window, playing with a cigarette case of the same style as Jiro Uehara.

She wore a simple pair of jeans today, and her hair was not tied up.

She didn't have any makeup on, and she looked like a fresh, 23-year-old college student.

"You also rented the house in Birmingham. You scratched your hand while moving the stones. The blood was mixed in the dust. You cleaned up the scene, but there were still marks."

Sherlock pulled a folded handkerchief from the pocket of his Doraemon-like coat again.

It was he who last night, when he and Ludwig were looking for clues in the old apartment in Birmingham, he took out the handkerchief to save the dust on the ground.

"Blood sample, hand it over to the laboratory department."

Lestrade took it silently, and turned to Anna Takemura:

"Miss Takemura, until the results of the DNA test come out, I'm afraid your daily life will have to be monitored by us."

Anna Takemura did not answer.

With her left hand, she was playing with the black cigarette case inlaid with silver thread. She opened and closed the lid of the cigarette case repeatedly.

No tears, no panic.

Then she took a Marlboro from the pack and lit it.

I didn't smoke it, just held it between my fingertips, staring at the little red light, burning slowly.

"No need."

After a while, she raised her head and smiled at Sherlock.

"It doesn't have to be so troublesome...the person who puts the stone, the person who puts the dry ice, the person who transports the piano..."

She paused:

"And, the person who killed Sakuma-sensei... was me."

Lei Bo stood up first: "Anna!"

Both Kawanosuke Kawayama and Watanabe Tsubaki looked unbelievable.

Watanabe Tsubaki stood up, opened his mouth to say something, but as if he was choked up, he staggered back to his seat.

Anna Takemura stood beside the crimson curtain, looking slim.

It was the sunset outside the window, and large expanses of burning clouds dyed half of the sky.

She smiled at Leibo, turned her head, and said calmly:

"The teacher's admiration for me makes me breathless, but Mr. Uehara, who I love with all my strength, is loving the teacher with my life..."

She hangs her head.

The red light from her fingertips made her eyes red.

"I thought that as long as the teacher died, this dead knot would be untied, and all the pain would end... So, I imitated Mr. Uehara's left handwriting, wrote a letter to lead her to the villa in Victoria Tower, and killed her."

She raised her head: "Don't forget, the villa that Mr. Leibo bought for me is in the Victoria Tower."

Lestrade was caught off guard by this turn of events:

"Then why did you put her in the piano?"

"Because Schmidt is Mr. Uehara's bosom friend and his lifelong friend. His death made Mr. Uehara very painful."

Anna Takemura spoke lightly:

"Sakuma-sensei made a man die because of her for whatever reason—shouldn't she atone for it?"

Sherlock stared at her with a cold expression: "Lie."

Anna Takemura suddenly raised her head.

The peace in her eyes disappeared.

She looked at Sherlock's impassive face.

For the first time, there was a hint of pleading in her mocking, provocative, or charming eyes.

... If the sin that ends one life must be borne by another life.

Well, here she was, standing before the man she wanted to protect, awaiting judgment.

……

It's a pity that those pleadings couldn't impress Sherlock.

Sherlock's heart is as cold as ice and as hard as a rock—if he can't do this, how can he indifferently cut open the scar of the truth?

"love."

He turned around and said in an objective and indifferent tone:

"Love makes people lose their minds and become stupid...and a stupid person will always be escorted by someone even more stupid... Even if you give up yourself to protect him, it is just wishful thinking."

I don't know if it was an illusion, but when she heard "wishful thinking", Anna Takemura's calm expression, always smiling, darkened for a moment.

There was a text message, Lestrade looked down at the phone:

"That's not like something a man who just fell in love said."

Sherlock looked back, with the confidence to control everything in his eyes:

"That's because you can't control it—I can."

Lestrade: "...I look forward to seeing your bleak future, but for now, please close this case."

Sherlock glanced at the closed door again.

— it looks like his little girlfriend didn't just fall into the sewer, she got washed into the Thames.

According to the average speed of the current, she should have drifted to the side of the container terminal by now.

She wasn't there when he reasoned - a serious dereliction of duty in either capacity.

With a tense face, he turned to Anna Takemura:

"From what you mean, you are the only one involved in this case from the beginning to the end, and it has nothing to do with Uehara Jiro?"

Anna Takemura: "Yes."

"Then after Jiro Uehara left for London, shouldn't he have seen Sakuma Xiangzi again?"

"Yes."

"And I remember, you said during the interrogation that you saw Sakuma Xiangzi's trapitz ring before she got in the car?"

Anna Takemura couldn't figure out Sherlock's intentions for a while, but these conversations were all recorded, and she wanted to refute, but there was nothing to refute.

"……Yes."

"Then, please tell me, if Uehara Jiro hasn't met Sakuma Shoko after that..."

Sherlock smiled slightly, and took out a shiny thing from his pants pocket:

"Why, the trapitz ring lost by Xiangzi Sakuma appeared in Jiro Uehara's cigarette case?"

Lestrade stared dumbfounded at the emerald trapitz ring in Sherlock's hand.

From the beginning, they've been looking for the lost ring.

But it has been fruitless.

"You both use the same cigarette case, and both smoke Marlboro...but you are a long cigarette for women, and he is a short cigarette for men."

Sherlock smoked the cigarette case in the hand of Anna Takemura who was out of her mind:

"The lengths of the two cigarettes are so different, they are packed in a cigarette case, but they are both about the same length as the cigarette case..."

He smiles again:

"The only explanation is that Jiro Uehara is hiding something in the cigarette case."

Lestrade blinked:

"I understand...but this ring...why is it with you?"

Sherlock put away the ring and said reluctantly:

"Last night, Vichy... ran into Yuan Erlang by chance and exchanged some pleasantries. I picked it up at that time."

Lestrade: "..."

The female cigarette in Anna Takemura's hand fell on the shoe, and the lambskin shoe was burned with a black hole by the cigarette butt.

She seemed to lose sight of all this.

When he looked up again, his eyes were already full of tears.

Sherlock didn't pay any attention to her tears.

He turned a blind eye to the soulless singers in the hall, looked around for a while, but to no avail, he had to turn his head, and reluctantly said:

"Where does the women's restroom go?"

Lestrade turned back from the shock: "What?"

Sherlock put on his coat: "It's been more than half an hour - the women's room."

Lestrade: "You mean Vichy?... I sent a text message to Edgar just now, and he replied to me that he saw Vichy running outside."

"What did you say? He said Vichy ran away?!"

Sherlock turned around suddenly.

He squinted his eyes and looked at the gate of the performance hall in the distance. For a moment, his face was terribly indifferent:

"You locked the door?"

Lestrade was taken aback by the stern look on Sherlock's face:

"That's because there were reporters, so I had to pull the cordon... She was probably just out shopping... Sherlock! Where are you going?"

His voice fell, and Sherlock had passed through the relevant people who were crowded in the middle of the T-shaped stairway, and ran to the door.

He kicked open the hard wooden door and rushed out.

Lestrade's face was gloomy, and he waved to the other police officers:

"Some people stayed behind, while others followed—something went wrong."

……

Time rewinds to half an hour ago.

Ludwig stood outside the yellow cordon, looking in.

A young man in a security uniform came out of the corridor, across the cordon, and said to her gently:

"Sorry, miss, we asked, but you are not on the list of police officers and related personnel, so... I'm afraid you can't go in."

Ludwig smiled: "I see, I'll just wait here."

She is wearing deep red linen trousers today with a white wide-sleeve top she bought from Italy.

Sleeves rolled up to the elbows, sitting casually on the green grass, long black hair spread out like a landscape.

Officer Edgar came out and saw this scene.

"Miss Ludwig, why are you here?"

"I can't go in."

She pointed to the blockade and said indifferently.

He looked inside: "There's no need to go in. Only Sherlock is needed to solve the case, and Scotland Yard is only responsible for security... By the way, have you seen Jiro Uehara?"

Ludwig raised his head: "Why, isn't Mr. Jiro Uehara here?"

Without getting any useful information, Edgar obviously didn't want to talk too much with her "unrelated person", so he just bowed slightly:

"He hasn't shown up yet...then you wait here for Sherlock, and I'll look for it over there."

Ludwig was looking forward to the green gentle slope in the distance. Above the gentle slope, the sky was as red as a flame.

—Mr. Uehara Jiro, did not show up?

She stretched out her hand to caress her chest - she always felt that her heart was heavy, as if something was missing.

but……

Such an evening, such a sunset, such a green meadow.

Three days ago, Sakuma Xiangzi's body was transported to the entrance of the Covent Garden Theater under such a sunset.

Half a month ago, Schmidt committed suicide by jumping into the sea under such a setting sun.

……

She felt a sudden thump in her heart.

—Mr. Uehara Jiro, did not show up?

In the evening?