The right way to attack Moriarty

"For God's sake," Mycroft passed by the little boy disdainfully, "That little detective room of yours should have been closed long ago, is there really anyone in the world who would want to consult an 11-year-old boy? Oh, give up your naive thoughts, brother, with this time, you might as well practice your violin, boy, think about your future days, do you want to rely on noise to chase your beloved girl?"

"Of course not." The little boy smirked again.

"Nothing? What's not?" Mycroft also smirked back at him, "Isn't the violin you're playing a noise, or is your little detective room open?"

"No," the little boy gave a mischievous smile, just as the doorbell rang, the little boy jumped off the stool and said to his brother triumphantly, "Obviously, my little detective room is still open. And a steady stream of people are willing to come to consult an 11-year-old boy, who made this little boy so smart that no one can match?"

Mycroft gave him a sneer, and a capitalized indifference: "Your poor little trick is not allowed in my house."

The little boy laughed: "Then I'll tell mom that you stole three times more sweets last night."

Mycroft raised his hand and dropped it again. Finally, he had to take a deep breath to stabilize his emotions, "Just this time, don't make another example. Did you hear me?"

"I'm going to take a shower, I hope he's gone when I come out." Mycroft threatened Sherlock coldly.

The little boy said indifferently: "Don't worry, I will definitely be able to solve his case within 10 minutes."

Mycroft stepped into the bathroom and poked his head out again. He smirked at the boy with exquisite eyebrows and eyes: "I said, I probably know why your customers come to you for consultation."

"Why?" the little boy asked calmly.

"Because money is needed elsewhere, but you don't need him to spend money." Mycroft looked at Sherlock with a smile, and dropped such a sentence.

"Go take your shower!" Little Sherlock snarled at Mycroft.

He knows it!His brother didn't have a good word out of his mouth!

Standing outside the door was a man in his late fifties.He has fiery red hair, small eyes, and a pair of gold-rimmed glasses on his nose.

At first glance, he looked like a shrewd businessman.

"Sir, I encountered a strange thing recently." The shrewd owner of the photo studio chose a title that satisfied little Sherlock.

"What's the matter?" Little Sherlock asked.

"Well, I got a good job in a mansion for forty pounds a day just by copying the encyclopedia. But I've only been there for twelve days before the job is rescinded. I won this position after winning many competitors, and this position was canceled like this?!" The owner of the photo studio was furious, "I want to find their leaders and let them give me an explanation , and when I found their so-called headquarters, that building didn’t even admit that it was ever rented out! They didn’t even admit that there used to be an organization called the Red Hair Society!”

"The Redheads?" Little Sherlock frowned and looked at the man in front of him, "What is that?"

The man took out a newspaper from his pocket, which contained a detailed introduction of the Redhead Society and a recruitment notice.

Twelve days ago, a job advertisement was carelessly placed in the newspaper, and one of his employees urged him to participate in the job fair. Unexpectedly, he won the competition in the end.

Little Sherlock was sitting on the chair, plucking the strings of the violin thoughtfully, ignoring the burning gaze of the man opposite, little Sherlock suddenly pursed the corners of his lips, and stood up.

The owner of the photo studio with fiery red hair also stood up, followed behind little Sherlock and asked, "So, are you going to find that damn redhead organization now?"

"No, of course not," Little Sherlock walked out without looking back, "Sir, you should thank your clerk, he let you get five hundred pounds for nothing."

"Then where are you going now?" The owner of the photo studio followed closely behind Little Sherlock, for fear that he would secretly apply for a position in the Black Hair Club while he was not paying attention.

Little Sherlock quickly turned a corner, and smirked at the man who followed him closely: "The police station, it's obvious that there are people here who need help more than you."

"What?" The owner of the photo studio looked at Little Sherlock in disbelief, and then asked, "That's the end of my case?!"

"Yes, sir," Little Sherlock pushed open the door of the police station, "In this accident, you didn't suffer any loss, but got five hundred pounds for nothing, didn't you?"

"Damn it," the man spat on the ground and walked away cursing, "I knew it! Cheap things are not good! Detectives who don't spend money are all trash who can't do anything!"

"Sir, what did you say?" Little Sherlock smirked and stood in front of the businessman, "Hey, now I suspect that you colluded with criminal gangs to transport the 100 taels of gold stolen from the London Bank out of the suburbs, I hope you I can cooperate with the police investigation, thank you for your cooperation.”

"What did you say?!" The man looked at Little Sherlock incredulously, "Why do you say that?!"

Why, because you just called me trash.

"Oh," little Sherlock shrugged, turned his head and stood on tiptoe and said to the tall counter, "Mr. Police, I think I have found the one million taels of gold stolen from the London Bank."

"No," the man's fiery red hair stood up high, just like his current angry mood, "You are slandering!"

Little Sherlock shrugged indifferently: "Anyway, I have already reported the case to the police, and they will come to your shop in a while. Whether it is slander or not depends on the speed of the police and the speed of the thief."

photo studio.

"Hurry up, hurry up," a young man was beckoning his companion to move sundries to the car, box after box, neatly stacked, "I just fooled that idiot out and asked him to find that what Detective shit is gone, let's move fast."

"Haha," another man with a bushy beard let out a hearty laugh, and quickly loaded his things into the car, "After finishing this job, we can rest at home for a whole year, happy!"

"Quick, quick!" The man who was on guard outside rushed back all the way, "If you can't fit it, don't let it go, get out quickly! The police are here!"

A group of eight people turned pale with fright and hurriedly threw the gold they were carrying into the rear compartment.A bunch of people crowded into the car and got into the car. The two people who really couldn't fit in it walked around, pretending to be watching the scenery.

"What else do you have to say?" The policeman pointed to the two boxes of gold left in the house and asked the owner of the photo studio.

"I was wronged!" The fiery red-haired man struggled desperately, "I really don't know what happened! For Jesus' sake, how could I have so much gold!"

Little Sherlock shrugged and turned to leave.

"Wait," the fiery red-haired man called out to the little boy, "Help me! I know you can!"

"Sorry," Little Sherlock smirked, "I'm an ignorant idiot, and I probably can't help you much."

"Oh, don't say that, Sherlock," the policeman who stayed in the photo studio interrupted Little Sherlock with a smile, "You are a very smart boy, I think the bank president's family will probably thank you very much. "The policeman tilted his head and forcibly acted cutely, "After all, without you, they would probably spend ten years in prison."

Little Sherlock shrugged: "It's easy."

"That—" the fiery red-haired man interrupted the conversation between the two of them again, "Sir, I know you must have a solution, please help me."

"No." Little Sherlock raised his head arrogantly, rejecting the man's request.

"Sorry, I came here right after I received the call. My brother didn't cause you any trouble, did he?" Mycroft hurried over, apologizing to the policemen, "He's always too lively."

"Ah, please, let your brother save me, I really don't know anything about the whole thing!" The fiery red-haired man struggled to ask Mycroft for help.

Mycroft looked the man up and down, and then quickly made a judgment. He patted Sherlock on the shoulder, and pressed down threateningly.

"Sherlock, what have I taught you? Have you forgotten what your mother said?"

Sherlock pursed his lips, reluctantly helping the fiery red-haired man explain to the police: "It's not him, it's the newly recruited clerk in his store."

"I can draw his portrait for you," the fiery red-haired man shouted loudly, "his camera is still in my darkroom!"

Before Little Sherlock was taken home by Mycroft, McCoff seemed to remember something, and asked a question back.

"Excuse me, how did you find my brother?"

"My clerk recommended it," the fiery red-haired man recalled, and then howled quickly, "Could it be that you are the same group, and you are looking for me to make me take the blame?!"

Sherlock looked at the man in shock, genuinely wondering if he was mentally ill.

"Excuse me? Is your logic still there?" Sherlock smirked, "Don't make me regret taking you out."

The man with fiery red hair insisted: "It must be like this. The clerk first went to my store to apply for a job, and then took the opportunity of developing photos to secretly open a tunnel, and then urged me to apply for a job at the Red Hair Club. I will be away from the house for a while every morning, so that they can move the gold in the house, and finally recommend me to a detective agency that is not very famous but obviously has some background, and let me take the blame through the mouth of the detective. You see, he is still there Threatening me!"

The more the fiery red-haired man thought about it, the more he felt that it made sense. In the end, he even felt that the entire police station was with the gang of thieves, clamoring to go to the headquarters to prosecute them.

The whole scene was very chaotic.

Sherlock held his forehead helplessly, followed behind Mycroft, and swaggered out of the police station.

"Sherlock, are you still following up on the Bank of London case?" The police just chased him out and shouted at Sherlock.

Sherlock didn't look back, he gestured "OK" to him, and followed Mycroft away.

Two days is not a long time, it may not be enough time to transport eight people out to sea.But enough for John Clay to ship all eight chests of gold out to sea.

John Clay was drinking with someone when Sherlock found his hiding place.

A large number of policemen surrounded John Clay and handcuffed him in a flash.

"John Clay, you are under arrest."

John Clay hadn't realized it for a while, he was so drunk that he didn't know what was written on a piece of parchment.

During the arrest process, under the crowd, the parchment fell to the ground and no one cared about it.

"Where did the remaining eight boxes of gold go?" the policeman asked.

John Clay smirked: "Sorry, I don't understand what you said."

When the police asked Little Sherlock for help again, Little Sherlock was looking through his brother's drawer at home.

"I found the thief for you." Little Sherlock shrugged and opened another drawer. "As for the gold, it is your own business. I will not continue to accompany you for such boring things."

Gray Lestrade glanced at Little Sherlock's movements and the medium drawer he had searched for many times, "Sherlock, if you can help us find the remaining gold, I can get you a small-caliber gun."

Little Sherlock turned his head sharply, then shook his head and rejected him: "No, I like the silver one from Mycroft."

Before the gold floated out of the British border, Yan Mo finally successfully intercepted the ship.

"The benefits of the Artemis family," Yan Mo took out his wand, tapped the few boxes of gold lightly, and said with a smile, "it's probably everywhere."

As long as there are magical animals, there will be the power of the Artemis family.

Several people on the boat were taken aback by the woman who broke in suddenly, and then were forced to conduct an interrogation. They couldn't be more obedient at the moment, even if Yan Mo said that they would be sent to the police station, they would There was no sign of resistance.

"Open the courtyard." Yan Mo entered the courtyard and left a letter on the small table in the courtyard.The letter explained in detail the ins and outs of the whole matter.

Hogwarts.

"Jim," Newt stood at the door of Slytherin, blocking Moriarty who was carrying his schoolbag and was about to go to class.

"What?" Jim looked up at him innocently.

"Hufflepuff came to me after class, I have something to tell you." Newt said with a blank expression.

"There's no need to dismiss get out of class," Jim looked up at him with a little smile, "I can say whatever I want, now. You know, between you and class, I will always choose you."

Newt took a deep breath, trying to calm his emotions, he nodded coldly: "Okay, now then."

The author has something to say: Don’t be disgusted by the lack of words, I am devastated now. I thought it would be very sad to have to batch numbers and divide assignments until [-] pm on Tuesday. I didn’t expect my computer to break down!blue screen! , can't turn on the machine...!I have to send it to reinstall the system tomorrow, no, I have to reinstall the system today, and I will send it at [-] pm. I don’t know when I can get it back. Don’t stop me. I’m going to abuse Jim. I'm going crazy! ! !Miss my keyboard, my computer, my net!Wipe away my tears, ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Thank you to all the little angels who have been leaving comments, ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.