[Zhongyingmei] She is such a sand sculpture netizen

Steve is a solid, big, warm guy.Even so, Joanna didn't speak for two days.Not because she had any issues with Steve.It's just that she suddenly realized that the tongue of lies had affected her more than she expected.As long as she thinks that she can't speak when her mood swings, Joanna will think that she and Steve will get angry and quarrel in the future, but she doesn't even have the right to communicate with Steve.Based on this alone, Joanna felt depressed.

She is not a naive little girl with no deep experience in the world, she will not believe that she can always maintain a high degree of consistency with Steve over the long years, and she does not believe that someone can still remain the same after many "cold violence" Be patient and gentle.However, it's not that she doesn't believe in Steve, on the contrary, it's because she believes in and loves Steve deeply that she doesn't want to let Steve go through all this.Of course Steve could understand her difficulty, but... understanding is not the ultimate purpose of this universe, nor is it... the ultimate purpose of love.Joanna didn't want to get a "It's okay, I understand" after she fell in love with Steve.

Joanna's low mood and silence worried Steve.Fortunately, the converter that Tony gave to Joanna helped a lot this time. Joanna felt emotionally unstable, so she insisted on not speaking, but fortunately, she could use the converter to communicate with Steve.Apart from the troublesome reading comprehension, Steve didn't think there was anything wrong with it.

For this reason, Joanna, who applied for an uber account and jokingly threatened to make a career with Steve in Los Angeles, shut down Uber after picking up Sherlock.

Steve, on track to be the most popular Uber driver of the 21st century, just... laid off.

But in Sherlock's view, all of this has the taste of a sub-mystery.The "little couple" who just applied for an Uber account quit after driving him, and the male driver also showed extra caution on the way.What's even more strange is that there are various indications that this "little lover" is the one who asked the government to invite him to come over to solve difficult cases.

Sherlock sat in the hotel in Los Angeles, scrambled and restored the Rubik's Cube bought downstairs for 2 yuan, restored and scrambled.

Watson's blog had run out of new material, and he struggled with his laptop for a while, before he couldn't help asking, "When are you going to investigate the case?"

"Huh?" Sherlock asked casually.

"I said, Sherlock. We were commissioned! And it was commissioned by Downing Street."

Sherlock looked at Watson with a playful smile: "Are you sure you want to talk about this?"

As soon as Watson saw Sherlock's slightly malicious smile, he knew that he was about to use his terrible powers of reasoning to say nothing about himself.Watson quickly waved his hand: "Forget it, let's not talk about it."

Sherlock rolled his eyes a little bored, and after recovering the Rubik's Cube again, he suddenly asked, "Have you received psychotherapy before?"

Watson frowned slightly, and looked at the computer uncomfortably: "Why do you ask this?"

"Would you like to try a psychiatrist in Los Angeles?"

"what?"

"Let's go and see how good the psychiatrists in Los Angeles are."

"Sherlock!" Watson saw Sherlock put on his coat and go out in a blink of an eye. He hurriedly closed the computer, took his belongings and keys, and chased him out.

Sherlock went downstairs with a clear goal, then took a taxi and went straight to the psychological clinic where Hannibal was.

On the way, Watson kept asking Sherlock what he planned to do, but he only got the answer of "see a psychiatrist".

After the two arrived at the clinic, Sherlock led Watson to the consultation desk and asked the lady at the front desk for two profiles of the doctor.After Watson took the information, he sat aside and studied it carefully, while Sherlock ran to the information desk and chatted with the receptionist after reading it quickly.

The content of the chat is nothing more than nonsense about the level of the doctor here, how to charge and so on.The lady at the front desk has seen many such guests, and she professionally answered Sherlock's questions one by one.She only felt that Sherlock's way of asking questions was very pleasant, not at all like a person who needed psychological counseling.On the contrary, Watson, who bowed his head silently, seemed to need a good chat with someone.

After learning about the clinic's methods and principles for assigning jobs to doctors, Sherlock found a reason to leave with Watson.

"What's the situation?" Watson, who was dragged into the psychological clinic inexplicably, and then pulled out of the clinic after doing nothing, found that his thinking couldn't keep up with his roommate every day.

Sherlock lowered his head and didn't know what to check on his phone: "The one who went to the clinic that day was either a policeman or a detective. Let's go, go to the next place."

Half an hour later, Watson followed Sherlock and chatted with an unemployed man near a public toilet in a park.

Watson could understand Sherlock's words, but he couldn't understand what the relationship between the vagrant in front of him and the clinic just now was.No matter how the other party looked at it, he didn't seem like someone who could afford medical treatment. Not to mention psychological clinics, he probably seldom set foot in even ordinary clinics!

Watson listened to Sherlock chatting with the other party in various places. He was not interested in the past life of this vagrant at all. He just wanted to know what kind of medicine was sold in Sherlock's gourd.He knew very well that Sherlock would not answer him.So Watson decided to try to reason it all out for himself.

"Excuse me, have you seen a psychiatrist?"

The unemployed vagrant who was chatting happily just now frowned instantly: "What do you mean? Mocking me? Does a person like me need to see a psychiatrist?"

"Uh, sorry I just..."

"My friend came to Los Angeles just to see an American psychiatrist. I'm sorry, he's already a bit..." Sherlock winked at the homeless man meaningfully, "You know, he's in a hurry to go to the doctor."

The vagrant pursed his lips: "I agree with that. What a psychiatrist can do is just tell you some nonsense that doesn't help. If you want me to say, it's more efficient than taking two puffs."

Sherlock expressed high approval for the vagrant's remarks, and then he continued to ask, seemingly unintentionally: "I haven't finished the story just now! And then? That bar owner really helped you realize your dream? I mean , did you really fall asleep with that model?"

"That's not right!" The vagrant was very proud of his past brilliant life, but soon, he showed a very low contrast, "But that model is just like that, nothing special."

Sherlock nodded without sincerity. Seeing that the other party had smoked only one puff left, he handed the other party a new one: "So, he can help with anything?"

"It's said to be so." The vagrant shrugged. "At least that's what I heard. The omnipotent Lucifer Morningstar."

"The name matches his ability." Sherlock said while paying attention to the expression on the other's face.

"Come on, as long as he can really help people realize their wishes, whether he is called Jehovah or Allah, who the hell cares?"

Sherlock raised his eyebrows: "That's true. Then, where can I find him?"

The vagrant stopped smoking, and he squinted at Sherlock: "What do you mean? You want to ask him for help."

"That's it."

"Listen to my advice, you won't like the conditions he offered."

"If the price is right, I think I can take it."

The vagrant held a cigarette between his fingers, looked at Sherlock strangely for a while, finally cursed in a low voice, typed a string of addresses on Sherlock's mobile phone, and then hurried away with the remaining half of the cigarette .

"Why did he react like this. Is this Lucifer a gangster?"

"John, do you believe in religion?" Sherlock looked at the crowd in the distance and asked abruptly.

"what?"

"Do you believe in religion? To be precise, do you believe in Christ?"

Watson was a little uncomfortable with Sherlock's apparent lack of awe, but answered his roommate's question anyway: "I'm not baptized, but my family does have that tradition."

Sherlock looked at Watson with mocking sympathy on his face: "I'm afraid your knowledge of Jesus Christ will be challenged."

"What do you mean?"

Sherlock didn't answer Watson's words directly, but just patted him on the shoulder: "Let's go, before that, we have to find two psychiatrists to look at it for us."

Sherlock did not lie to Watson. It was only two days after he said that sentence that he led Watson to the psychological clinic again.To Watson's surprise, in just two days, Sherlock seemed to have completely figured out the bottom line of the psychological clinic.He led Watson to fill in the file hastily, then watched as the lady at the front desk took Watson to Hannibal's office.

It wasn't until he met Hannibal himself that Watson was surprised to find that he had seen a photo of this man in the pile of materials sent by the US military.Watson still remembered that the words "police advisor" were marked under the photo of the other party.At this moment, Watson finally understood that he was thrown into the battlefield again by his roommate as a guinea pig.

Once it comes, it will be at ease. Watson calmed down and sat down on the chair.

Isn't it just to see a psychiatrist?He has experience.

Hannibal glanced at the new patient, then looked at his profile: "John Watson? Are you a veteran?"

Watson nodded, acting a little nervous.

"Relax, today is the first day of diagnosis and treatment, I just need to know something about your basic situation. Do you think you need help, based on ptsd?"

"It used to be, but it got better."

Hannibal nodded and looked through the information: "Have you received psychological treatment for half a year in England?"

"Yes."

"So the diagnosis and treatment are effective?"

Hannibal seemed to be quite a perceptive person, and his eyes looked more cautious than Sherlock's usual expression.Watson very much doubted that he could lie under his nose.After weighing it again and again, Watson chose to tell the truth: "No. It didn't work. Then I went to work as a consultant for Scotland Yard, and I recovered after that."

"Then what is your purpose for coming today?"

"I don't think that's real recovery. Maybe it's just that I reintroduced myself into a dangerous professional situation so that those problems were suppressed. I don't think that's right." Watson frowned, " I want to make a full recovery."

"And you think American psychiatrists are better equipped to help you than the psychiatrists you've had access to in England?"

Watson shook his head: "No, I think you can help me. I'm sorry Dr. Lecter, I only thought of looking for you after I heard that you worked for the FBI."

Hannibal closed the file: "Sorry, I can't accept you as my patient. If you need it, I can recommend other doctors to you. My behavior outside the consulting room cannot affect the treatment in this room. "

"But no other doctor knows my situation better than you!" Watson argued.

"I'm sorry, my professional requirements don't allow me to do this." Hannibal stood up and walked to the door with a look of seeing off guests.

Watson had no choice but to leave Hannibal's office.

Sherlock, who was supposed to be waiting outside, had disappeared at this moment. Watson sighed and had to go back to the hotel alone.