Chess and Goldfish

In fact, Gent often has regrets, such as the past, such as this time, and maybe the future.

Anyway, since he became Professor Moriarty, his regrets have been increasing day by day.

God knows what's going on in that guy's head!

But he understands that, just as Little Gent is keen on magic and games, Little Jim likes crime and art, which are essentially the same.

Gent knew that Mr. Big Holmes had a habit of handing over cases that he was too lazy to investigate to his younger brother, which would not only make him more peaceful, but also give him some fun. Simply a great opportunity.

So, he's not going to spoil that.

But it was predictable that Sherlock would not buy it.

221b Baker Street, Sherlock and John's room.

The curly-haired man was lying on his back on the sofa, with his legs crossed, his hands clasped together, his slender fingers resting on his chin, his gray-blue eyes staring blankly at the ceiling, his white shirt was stretched tightly, embellishing the fluidity of his body. muscle lines.

The blond doctor sat cross-legged on the single sofa on the other side, and was seriously reading a newspaper. Black tea and cookies were placed in front of him. The doctor frowned. He was a little sensitive recently.

"Sherlock."

The curly-haired man let out a "hmm", his gaze was still fixed on the ceiling.

"Here, um, there's a case...another person died, still poisoned."

"Yeah." Sherlock's voice was hollow.

Watson frowned, raised his voice, and turned on the TV, "Sherlock, did you hear what I said?"

On the TV, a familiar person was speaking. Inspector Lestrade had a headache and made a lot of remarks, saying that the dead had committed suicide.

The poison taken at the time of death was the same, and there was no special reason for the deceased to appear at the scene of the crime.

"Damn it!" The man on the sofa sat up abruptly, and cursed secretly, causing Watson to tremble in fright, and almost turned off the TV.

"What's the matter?" Watson asked worriedly, "You also think that these suicides are sorry for their parents!"

"Huh? Suicide?" Sherlock was taken aback for a moment before looking up at the TV.

"Hmph." He squinted his eyes and snorted softly, "It seems that Lestrade can't do these things well. —John, mobile phone."

Resigned to his fate, he took out his mobile phone from his pocket and handed it to Sherlock, watched him click a few buttons, and then took out his own mobile phone to do both. Within two seconds, the reporters and police detectives on the TV took out their loudspeakers one after another. non-stop cell phone.

【wrong】

Sherlock smiled triumphantly, "It's not suicide, it's murder."

"Okay, I see." Watson was very calm. He waved his hand to stop Sherlock who was going to continue, and asked, "What the hell did you just say?"

The curly-haired detective's expression was blank, and his eyes wandered for a rare moment.

Watson instantly understood, "Ah, Gent."

Sure enough, the big detective froze in the next second, he twitched the corner of his mouth, and his nose moved exaggeratedly, which was a sign of anger—Gint once told himself.

"Stop your stupid guessing John, I'm not the same brain as yours, never stuffed with weird crap, and I don't take up my memory for anyone! Gent? He's already in my brain It's in the recycle bin!"

"Don't lie." Watson rolled his eyes. "I have lived with you for a year, sir, and I am no longer the John Watson who was working with you for the first time! You can't fool me!"

Hearing that, Sherlock looked at him blankly, "Really? Then, John, tell me who the murderer is this time?"

"..." Watson was suddenly embarrassed. What could he say, he really didn't know who the murderer was!However, this cannot deny the fact that he knows Sherlock!

So, the doctor coughed lightly, "Wait, don't change the subject, these are two different things! I'm talking about Jin Te, you and him..."

"That's one thing." Sherlock interrupted Watson, "You are not fundamentally different from the first time I saw you. You still can't tell the difference between suicide and homicide. You can't know the different types of soot. , also, you don’t know what happened to Jint and me!”

After hearing Sherlock's words in a daze, the doctor twitched the corner of his mouth and said dryly, "Okay, I don't know anything, but now——shouldn't the point be this?"

Following the doctor's fingers and looking at the TV, Sherlock moved his nose and grinned for the first time in two days, "It really is Christmas, serial murders, is there any more exciting gift than this?" !?"

Have.

Watson looked at Sherlock's jumping figure and sighed secretly, hoping that Gent would not let him down.

Seriously, though, what the hell does that "damn" mean?

#####

Looking at the words "reservation successful" on the computer, Jin Te breathed a sigh of relief and rubbed the center of his brows.

His room had no windows, so he had nowhere to look.

So Jint stood up from the swivel chair, opened the door of the bedroom and walked to the living room, opened the refrigerator and took out a can of Coke, opened the pull ring with a sound of "呵——" and took a big gulp of it in his mouth, letting out a sigh of relief. He sighed, then lay back, threw himself into the soft sofa, and sank into it.

Mycroft would not tolerate it for long.

Sherlock refused to investigate the case for his brother, but was keen on these endless small troubles. Presumably the British government is having a headache, right?

Thinking of the little fat man who might be twitching and having a toothache, while worrying about the hairline receding a millimeter, Jin Te laughed unkindly.

He's really not a bad guy, but to be honest, he likes to go to the theater.

According to the doctor, Mr. Detective has been involved in a serial murder case recently.

The people who were killed all took the same poison, they had nothing in common, and the places of death were also different. There was no trace of resistance, and they looked exactly the same as suicide.

Hunters hiding in the dark corners of the city.

Jin Te froze suddenly, and another figure flashed in his mind.

The man's old face, gray hair, hunchback and conceited expression.

A person with low self-esteem and arrogance who prides himself on killing people.

Ah, what a stupid thing to do again...

That's right, Little Gent regretted it again.

He regretted rejecting the old man's request for help. If this matter was in his own hands, Sherlock would not have been deceived so easily.

Gent was a little annoyed.

But the person who attracted Sherlock's attention was not himself.

"It's really annoying..."

Gent glanced at the newspaper on the coffee table, which said that a certain lady died at xx: xx tonight, and a photo of the back of a female body in a pink suit.

"It's quite lively." Gent tilted his head, as if talking to himself, or whispering to his lover.

There was something strange in his expression, and if Mycroft was present, he would be alert immediately, because he had seen such an expression on this person before.

He and Gent are different.

Jim Moriarty.

Shaking his head, Gent touched his head to feel the temperature, then silently put the half-drinked Coke back into the refrigerator, sighed regretfully, and reached out to turn on the heater in the room.

At this time, there was a sudden loud sound outside the door, mixed with the siren of the police car and Mrs. Hudson's screaming.

Ginter paused, then put on a thick coat, wrapped himself into a ball with a scarf, and walked out of 222b wearing a cute plush hat that didn't match his temperament. the gate.

"Inspector, what are you doing?"

Lestrade crossed his arms, and the gas he exhaled turned into white smoke. He turned his head and looked, "Ah, Gent, you haven't slept so late? Don't you have to go to class tomorrow?"

Jin Te replied angrily, "No need, the university is on holiday, and it will be Christmas in a few days."

Mr. Inspector of Scotland Yard slapped his forehead, "By the way, I've been dizzy from being busy for the past few days. Take a good rest, Gent, university professors are having a hard time, working hard every day, and besides, you're still following Sherlock."

"How can you work so hard for the detective, you will be dizzy when you are busy with these cases?" Gent smiled good-naturedly, he stretched his neck to look at 221b Baker Street, which was surrounded, and asked curiously, "What's wrong with Sherlock?" Why? Why are you making such a big fuss here?"

"It's nothing." Lestrade scratched his head. "For a case, Sherlock and John went to find evidence. I guess he won't give it to me, so I'm here to guard."

Jin Te understood it, but pointed upstairs awkwardly, "Isn't it good to invade a house illegally?"

"Ahahaha this..." Cursing secretly for Anderson's bad idea, Lestrade said awkwardly, "Search warrant for drugs..."

"Sherlock takes drugs?!" Gent was really surprised by this.

"Once upon a time." Lestrade said with a dry smile, and he had solved Anderson's problems several times in his mind.

He couldn't say anything wrong about Sherlock in front of Gent, so he could only change the subject with a dry smile.

"You don't look well?"

"It's just a cold." Gent touched his head and whispered.

Lestrade frowned, "You don't just look like you have a cold—this kind of weather is quite uncomfortable, isn't it like this in the United States?"

"New York is colder, but the air is not as humid." Gent laughed, with an inconspicuous pit around his mouth and big wet eyes, which seemed to have the potential to be seductive.

"What are you doing here?"

Just when Lestrade was about to say something, a cold voice cut in.

"Sherlock!" Gent's eyes lit up and he shouted.

Lestrade swore he saw stars in the little curl's eyes!

In the air-conditioning that the crowd kept gasping, that weird-tempered freak actually softened his face. Although he quickly straightened his face, everyone knew that he was probably in a good mood now.

"what are you doing here?"

Naturally, it was Gent who asked.The latter put his hands in his pockets and rubbed his feet on the ground, "I have to apologize dear, I asked you to do what Mike asked you to do..." Gent said dizzily, his expression looked like A little guilty.

"Mike?"

As soon as the surrounding air became cold, Watson took two steps back without a trace, away from Sherlock.

The tall curly-haired man was expressionless, and there was only one figure reflected in the light gray eyes, focused and sincere, as if he was the only one in the world who could exist in Sherlock's world.

After a long while, his eyes slid over the police detectives standing around him, and his voice became even colder, "You are forcing me to intervene in that fat man's sphere of influence."

What responded to him was the provocative smile of the little curly hair.

——*——*—*——*——*——*——

——When did you find out I did it on purpose?

--From the beginning.