The right way to attack Moriarty

"Oh, I know," Sherlock waved his hand, interrupting the middle-aged man's words, "People in the police station are trash."

"By the way," Sherlock suddenly raised his eyes to look at the middle-aged man, "Speaking of which, how do the people in the police station judge that this was a murder (dama)?"

"Because, because—that, that threatening letter," it seems that recalling requires great courage, the middle-aged man clenched his fists, took a deep breath after a long while, summoned up the courage to tell the servant beside him, " Go get that envelope."

Sherlock looked at the envelope curiously, it was plain, nothing different.

Most threatening letters will find a more ordinary envelope, which means nothing.

However, what's inside the envelope is a little special.

Over the years, Sherlock has also taken on quite a few cases, and this is the first case of four orange cores wrapped in a threatening letter.

"The people of Scotland Yard, they saw this," the middle-aged man was very jealous of the four orange cores, and regardless of politeness, he asked the servant to hand the four orange cores to Sherlock.

"Russian assassin organization?" Sherlock raised an eyebrow at him.

The middle-aged man was very shocked at first, as if he didn't realize that Sherlock knew about this organization at all, and then restored his original sad face again: "Yes, it's them."

"Excellent," Sherlock said casually, "So this is the Russian group seeking revenge on you and killing your wife?"

"No," the middle-aged man smiled bitterly, "They have a clear goal, and they are looking for my lover. I would rather find me."

Sherlock froze for a moment, then nodded knowingly.

"That's really powerful."

"Hey, buddy, you always argue with me," Sherlock put the skull into his arms, "If you continue like this, I won't take you."

The middle-aged man glanced at Sherlock, but didn't speak.

The servants accompanying their family were also very educated, even though Sherlock kept talking to a skull, no one made a sound.

"Then," Sherlock glanced over the servants and asked the president of the Bank of London, "do you mind if I ask your servants some questions?"

"No, of course not, please feel free." The middle-aged man rang the bell.

Soon, an elderly woman came in, "Sir, do you have any orders?"

"Assemble the servants," the middle-aged man ordered with a sad face, "Mr. Holmes wants to ask for some clues."

"What did you say, sir?" The old maid couldn't hear very well, so she thought that the whole world couldn't hear her clearly, and she spoke in a voice so loud that it could deafen three giant elephants.

"Assemble the servants," the middle-aged man had to raise his voice, repeating what he said before, "this guest wants to ask everyone some questions."

"Okay, sir!" The old maid shouted again to answer the middle-aged man's words.

"I'm laughing at you," the middle-aged man sighed, "There are usually no people living in the old house. These servants are also old people, and they are too old to find other jobs when they go out. If I had known, If I had known earlier, I should have changed all of them, and replaced them all with young people, so that I wouldn’t let, let—"

"It's nothing," Sherlock said in a rare human way, "A good man will always be rewarded."

This sentence did not know what memories the middle-aged man brought back, and he choked up again.

"My wife is also a very good woman. We have been married for so long, and she has always been so good to the servants. Why—"

Sherlock didn't answer.

Soon, the old maid led Sherlock down.

There are not many servants in the old house, including the cook and coachman, there are only seven people in total.

Most of them are the old, the weak, the sick and the disabled, and the middle-aged men did not lie.There were indeed no young adults in this old house.

Sherlock separated the people one by one and questioned them separately.

"What were you doing before the accident?"

This question is very simple, but in fact, there are only two people who really recall useful information.

One is the cook, and the other is the old servant.

"I was quarreled by the cook. I didn't sleep in the middle of the night, and I was a monster every day." The old servant replied with a sigh, "When you get old, your sleep is very light. I fell asleep halfway, and then I was crushed." The sound of porcelain woke me up. It sounded like the sound of a tray falling on the floor. The cook was careless, and there was no carpet in the old house. If the tray was dropped, it would be smashed. That sound, really, hey, I repeated it later Again, I couldn’t sleep much, and then I heard another noise, and then another noise, I don’t know what it was, it was so noisy all night that I couldn’t sleep.”

"I don't know when Madam happened. If I had come out to take a look earlier, I might have caught the murderer."

Sherlock nodded and continued to ask.

"As you get older, your sleep will indeed become shallower. How was your body before? Have you ever woken up in the middle of the night?"

"Oh, that's not true. I often sleep until four or five o'clock."

Sherlock thanked the old servant politely, then turned and went to the cook's room.

"Mr. used to stay up late when he was young, and he went to bed early at one or two o'clock. I know he has this habit." The cook is also in her 50s and [-]s. The problem with my wife is that it will be cured after I get married to my wife, hey, my wife is also kind-hearted. My wife should live a long life."

After nagging for a long time, the cook finally got to the point.

"I stayed up late that day for my husband, and I was going to take it to his study, but I heard a gunshot from Madam's study."

"Well," Sherlock nodded, "When did you hear the gunshot?"

"Time?" The cook thought for a while, "It was probably around midnight. At that time, I thought about it, I was changing shifts in the middle of the night, and I came here at 11:30, changed my clothes, cooked a meal, and then went out with a midnight snack. , um, yes, the clock has rung after twelve o'clock."

"You are holding something, what do you see?"

"The lady was lying in a pool of blood, the gentleman was hugging the lady, the window was wide open, and there was a shadow among the flowers. I was so frightened that I threw the tray away."

Sherlock nodded, indicating that he understood.

The old servant said that the cook threw away the tray first, and after twelve o'clock...

The cook said that it was twelve o'clock first, and she threw the tray last,

"No, old man," Sherlock touched the skull in his arms, "Even if the two people's words are different, it doesn't necessarily mean that someone has lied."

"You know, sometimes, there are always some people who are willing to use some tricks." Sherlock muttered to himself in an unclear way.

I don't know whether to tell the skeleton in my arms or someone else.

Sherlock walked around the old house.

Under a tree, a blood-stained boot was found.

The boots were neither too big nor too small to fit the footprints on the windowsill.

Throwing the gun in the house after killing someone is fine, it can barely be explained by panic.

However, after killing someone, throwing the boots under the tree, is it because the boots are found to be stained with blood, so they have to throw them down?

"Stop kidding, my buddy," Sherlock said, refuting this assumption, touching the skull in his arms.

If you really want to throw away the blood-stained boots, you shouldn't throw them in the old house. According to the description of the middle-aged man and the cook, the man was in a hurry after the murder, and he shouldn't have any intention of staying That's right.

Even if it was thrown away, it would at most be thrown away while taking it off, and there was no reason to bury it under a tree, as if it was hidden on purpose.

If it hadn't been for the heavy rain these days and the ants smelling blood, he probably wouldn't have found these clues.

So, the murderer should be someone from the old house?

Sherlock frowned.

"No," Sherlock stroked the skull with one hand, "Impossible, we have seen all the people in the old house. The servants are old, weak, sick and disabled. If Mrs. Jill is really a member of the killer organization People, then, including Mr. Jill, there is no one in the whole house who can fight Mrs. Jill. Even if it is a surprise attack, the servants are completely incapable of bringing down their wives—"

"So--"

Will it be Mr. Gill?

Then why did he report the case?

If what the old servant said was true, what did the cook see to overturn the tray?

Disputes between couples?

Or something else?

"No." Sherlock frowned, and immediately denied his guess, "No, the man's expression is really sad, and he is very frank, without that kind of secret stimulation, or worry."

"There is no murderer with such good acting skills in the world."

"What's wrong?" Sherlock touched the skull in his arms, "What did we miss?"

shoe size.

tall man.

Footprints jumped from the ledge.

A hurried figure.

correct!

If that person can kill Mrs. Jill, then the old, weak, sick and disabled in the whole house are not enough for him to crush to death with one hand, why is he suddenly in a hurry? !

Yes.

The cook didn't know what she saw, she screamed, maybe she didn't scream, but she knocked over the tray, and the sound of the tray attracted a lot of people.

Many people walked towards this room from the corridor.

The reason why the murderer jumped out of the window was because he didn't want people to see him.

He cannot be recognized.

The problem came around again.

There is actually only one person in the whole room who can do something to Mrs. Jill.

Sherlock turned around and took the skull to find the middle-aged man.

The middle-aged man was no longer in the original room at this time, and he was sighing continuously with a sad face.The old servant also stood aside and sighed uncontrollably.

"Dude, I've told you everything, if you argue with me again, I won't let you go." Sherlock suddenly stopped at the door, chanting words to the skull in his arms.

The middle-aged man heard Sherlock's voice, turned around and invited Sherlock in.

Sherlock kept muttering something, as if arguing with the skull.

"Get out of the way." In the end, the skull was no match for Sherlock. Sherlock pushed hard, and the skull fell to the ground, and then rolled to the ground.

"Sorry." Sherlock immediately squatted on the ground and picked up the skull from the middle-aged man's feet.

"My buddy is always messing with me," Sherlock apologized for his buddy to the middle-aged man.

"It's okay." The middle-aged man seemed not very interested.

"So," Sherlock let out a long breath, "This is a murder (dama) murder, and the murderer is a tall man, right?"

The middle-aged man was stunned for a moment: "Isn't this determined early on?"

"Yes," Sherlock sighed, "I just wanted to ask again."

Completely matching footprints, whether standing or sitting, there are some slight constrictions.

The footprints on the window sill belonged to the master of the house.

The man, wearing boots stained in a pool of blood, stepped onto the balcony, then jumped back, hugged his wife, and shouted "Hurry up!"

Did the cook see something, so she dropped the tray?

Fierce (dama) killing the scene?

So, what were the three noises that the old servant heard?

The sound of the tray?

no, I can not.

He just pretended to argue and threw the skull to the ground, and the sound was definitely louder than breaking a plate.

Don't be surprised, the old woman didn't even hear it.

So the sound that wakes an old woman from her sleep is not the sound of the tray, or even the sound of the midnight clock.

There was no other sound in the old house.

Well, the first sound should be gunshots.

The sound that can wake a deaf person from sleep can only be the sound of gunfire.

However, there is one more problem.

What are the remaining two noises?

"Can't we go further?" The middle-aged man asked Sherlock eagerly, as if his wife was not dead at all, and the answer from Sherlock's mouth was related to his wife's life and death, "You know, we A full portrait is needed."

"Sorry," Sherlock shook his head, "This is the best I can do for you."

The case was finally characterized as a murder (dama), and Sherlock, under the eyes of the middle-aged man, boarded the train back.

Two days later.

Jill's old house.

"It's on fire!" The servants rushed to save the fire, but it was too late.

They didn't know when the fire started, but by the time they found out, the fire had spread completely, and there was no possibility of it being extinguished at all.

"Oops! Sir!" A servant yelled, wanting to go back to save their master.

The cook stopped him.

"Forget it, madam and sir are good people, they should be together."

And in an attic of Jill's old house.

After Sherlock set the fire, he followed closely behind the middle-aged man.

Sure enough, the first reaction of the middle-aged man was not to put out the fire or save people.Instead, he turned and left the crowd and went to the attic.

Sherlock took his skeleton brother and sneaked up the stairs behind the middle-aged man.

In the depths of the attic, a person was sitting in a wheelchair. Hearing the sound of footsteps, he turned around in surprise.

The deep female voice was very pleasant: "Honey, why are you here now?"

"There's a fire outside, hurry up, it's too late." The middle-aged man said to the woman, then reached out and hugged her.

The middle-aged woman suffered a wound on her leg, which seemed to be a gunshot wound, and her activities were very inconvenient.

"So—" Sherlock draws out, interrupting their conversation.

The middle-aged man was taken aback, and the middle-aged woman seemed to have just noticed Sherlock's existence.

"Didn't you go back?" The middle-aged man was very surprised.

"I'm back again." Sherlock touched the skull in his arms, "My little buddy refused to believe my judgment, so I simply set a fire in the northwest corner, people will always be in crisis At this moment, I subconsciously search for my most precious thing." Sherlock shrugged and stepped aside, "However, the wind direction is strong today, and you can go out from the other side."

"Will you tell them?" The middle-aged woman nestled in her husband's arms, staring at the teenage boy with piercing eyes.

"No, of course not, my little friend won't agree with me to do that." Sherlock laughed, "By the way, you are really amazing."

The middle-aged woman sighed: "No way, they want me to assassinate Archduke Ferdinand, I don't want to go, and I can't go."

"Although I'm not interested in politics, but," Sherlock tilted his head, "I still want to say, well done."

"Thank you." The middle-aged man hugged his wife and returned to Sherlock for her, "You are also very good."

"Compared to your wife, it's actually not very conspicuous." Sherlock moved aside, making room for the two of them.

The new term after Christmas.

Gavin appeared alone on the platform.

The news that his parents had died in the fire had spread throughout London.Many young wizards from Muggle families knew about this, so when they passed by Gavin, the crowd was extra cautious.There are also a few Gryffindors, and they care about Gavin by the way.

Gavin forced a smile, and fooled passers-by away one after another.

Arriving at the box, Gavin let out a long breath of relief.

"I'm suffocating," Gavin sat beside Newt carelessly, "Jim hasn't come yet?"

"No," Newt twirled the quill in his hand, "Are you okay?"

"It's okay," Gavin straightened his tie. "They've already made it to the Atlantic Ocean, and they'll be able to completely disassociate themselves from those people soon."

"Well," Newt replied again, "if there is anything you need help with, just ask."

"Don't worry," Gavin patted Newt's shoulder, "I won't be polite to you."

Newt laughed, turned his head away, and continued writing and drawing on the parchment.

"How did you start studying magic formations recently?"

"Oh," Newt glanced at the octagonal array on the parchment, expressionless, "I probably developed a new hobby."