sherlock holmes brother
Work related
,"How did you know?!"
Lestrade's expression relaxed, "We found your mobile phone, and please fully cooperate with our investigation, maybe someone is framing you."
The expression on Michael's face changed from surprise, anger to calmness at the end, "Then do I have the right to know why you are investigating me?"
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"Yes, she is my lover. We have been dating since three months ago." Michael interrupted Lestrait, saying that he already understood, "It was indeed our date three days ago." It was a good day to meet, but Julia didn't come, and I lost my mobile phone that morning, considering our usual agreement, I didn't call her on purpose." His voice gradually became a little lower, and his eyes were fixed on the document The picture in the folder, "I don't know...I didn't expect...Oh my God!" He let out a whimper, "Sorry..."
There was sympathy in Donovan's eyes, she pushed the white-haired detective, "Detective..."
"Tell me how much you know about Julia?" Lestrade sighed, and sat opposite Michael, facing the possible insider who had just been transformed from a suspect, even though the colleagues around him were leaked because of the other party's emotions. Showing obvious sympathy, Lestrade's two games have not changed, "I must remind you, please do your best to cooperate with us, if we can't find more evidence, then you will be the most suspect That." The inspector would never tell the story of Michael's right hand fingerprints on the tongue knife used at the scene, he is a policeman, he will not let a bad guy go, and he is not willing to frame a good guy.
Michael's eyes flashed, and then he took a deep breath, "Julia and I met in a mutual aid group. Our group mainly helps families who adopt abandoned children in the community. You must know how they integrate after being abandoned. There are still many other problems...”
Lestrade's expression didn't change, he turned off his phone directly, and he didn't plan to answer anyone who came to him for any reason.
One of the "possible characters" that Lestrade is thinking about is not playing with his BlackBerry. In fact, if someone is behind him, he will know that his beloved BlackBerry is almost crushed by him. - Baker By the window of Street 221B, the black-haired detective stared at the two embracing figures downstairs like a demon crawling out of hell.
The one in the brown coat, without looking at Sherlock, knew that the man had gentle eyes, his hair was soft, and his breath was warm when he spoke.It's just that all these are illusions. When he encounters something he thinks needs to be protected, he will turn into a lion and destroy everything that invades his protection range.That man will never learn detours and tricks. Straightforward and rough solutions are exactly what Sherlock needs most. His suspicion and sensitivity are completely unnecessary only around that man. You can read a book that is completely open to you. What to do, when you have absolutely no chance of destroying him.
Closing his eyes, Sherlock forced himself to open them, and face reality.He knew the doctor had had a fight with the woman, and he knew the question the woman would ask sooner or later.John will always make choices, and he has to make it clear to himself that he can't give what the doctor wants, whether it's a home or a stable relationship.The image of the bomb strapped to the doctor's body that night at the pool lingered in his mind. Sherlock told himself that he had to be patient. There would always be a woman anyway, either this Sarah or someone else. Instead of watching Seeing his doctor struggle with relationship after relationship, let's just leave it at that.
Somewhat staggered into the armchair, Sherlock's posture was a rare embarrassment, at least this woman didn't mind John being in danger, maybe after they got married he could still get help from a doctor occasionally, even if he wouldn't be His doctor's only.
The moment the living room door opened, Sherlock folded his legs like a cat, his hands joined together in a steeple shape, his eyes closed, and he looked the same as any other day. "Tea, two pieces of candy." Even the emotion in the voice was completely covered up, and Sherlock Holmes was born to be the best actor.
Watson laughed silently. The weird guilt in his heart due to the hug with Sarah downstairs was completely dispelled by the detective's order. He should have known it long ago, right? Besides, he shouldn't think too much about it.
"I'm not your butler." He even imitated Mrs. Hudson's tone as he put the tea on the round table in front of Sherlock.
Sherlock opened his eyes and was about to say something to laugh at the doctor's boring sense of humor, but his eyes widened the moment he saw him.As if seeing something terrifying, Sherlock rushed forward and tore Watson's coat before he poured the tea.
"Sherlock!" Watson froze for a moment, then struggled violently, "You have to do it..." His voice disappeared into the detective's ice-like sight. For the first time, Watson admitted to himself that Scotland Yard There is a reason why the group of people don't like to look at Sherlock. Anyone who sees the ice hidden in those light gray eyes will feel chills all over.
In such a daze, Sherlock had already thrown Watson's coat aside, followed by a yellow pullover.Watson stopped struggling when he realized that no matter what he did, the other party would not give up. Sherlock would explain it anyway.
Pleased by the doctor's behavior, Sherlock's face did not change at all. He finally took off Watson's pullover, and the doctor, who was only wearing a cotton red and blue plaid shirt, seemed to be emitting warmth all over his body.
"Sherlock..." Sensing that the other party stopped moving, Watson knew that no matter what happened, it should be over. He turned around according to the other party's strength, and his tone was connivance that he didn't realize, "What happened?" ...WHATTHEFUCK[Note]...." His voice was raised sharply, and a note was pasted on the back of the pullover sweater with his body temperature, red capital letters: Mind your own business Those who die.
Sherlock's pupils shrank sharply, and he retracted his previous judgment. The woman named Sarah couldn't do it, because she didn't realize what the danger was at all, and he would never let his doctor take more risks.
The author has something to say: [Note]: WHATTHEFUCK, what the hell is this?
☆, Tragic Sherlock Holmes
"We went to the movies first, and then had dinner at a new restaurant over Big Ben, Sarah's place..." Watson sat in his armchair in his shirt, facing It was a cup of hot tea that he had poured himself, and even though he had emphasized to the detective that ordinary people would pour their roommates a cup of tea as a comfort in such a situation, Sherlock hadn't done anything.
"After dinner, I wanted to take a taxi to take Sarah back, but she said she would rather come to Baker Street to have a look." Speaking of this, Watson's eyes were a little wandering. This was after Sarah asked him that question last time. On their first date, Watson originally wanted to express his opinion, but when he faced Sarah, he found that he couldn't say the words "I choose you".
Watson is not stupid. In fact, he has a slightly higher IQ than ordinary people, especially his EQ is also quite good, so he more or less realized that he might have fallen long ago, at least in Sarah and Sherlock. In between, no, in front of Sherlock and everything he has now, he will only have one choice.Watson is an honest person, and he never wants to take advantage of anything, so he still didn't say it.
Sarah is also a smart woman, maybe a woman is born to interpret this kind of thing, so when Watson couldn't speak, she keenly grasped the other's anxiety and wavering. Sarah is not young, she wants to find A good man who can live seriously will marry, and Watson is her best chance.As if doing a face-to-face dance, Watson only took a step back, and Sarah posted it. This time it was just downstairs on Baker Street. Sooner or later, she would enter 211B and eventually bring Watson back to her home. Home.
The two of them got out of the taxi and walked towards 221B together on the streets of Baker Street. They seemed to meet a few people on the way, but Watson didn't pay much attention. The sense of incongruity that his intimate space was open to another person still upset him.
That's why Watson didn't refuse Sarah's parting hug downstairs in 221B. In the end, he despicably used the power of this strong woman to help him temporarily escape from the detective's spell.
It's just that this kind of relief turned into a joke after seeing Sherlock sitting in the armchair upstairs. The familiar sights and smells seemed to have never changed. As long as Sherlock was still sitting there, it would be his gorgeous living eternity.
Sherlock didn't speak. In fact, he didn't say anything after listening to Watson's narration. Returning to his position at the beginning, Sherlock closed his eyes and thought as if nothing had happened.
Watson couldn't help showing a wry smile. His whole day's struggle and his cranky thoughts just now were actually a joke. Maybe it's like the criminal who consulted said, Sherlock has no heart, at least he doesn't have a heart for a lover.
"John, text the Inspector." Sherlock's eyes remained closed. "Your suspect is right-handed." His voice was full of strong confidence.
"Why don't you send it yourself?" Watson didn't move. He wasn't angry. Really, he was just tired. "Your mobile phone is on the table in front of you, and mine is on it."
Hearing Watson's unusual voice, Sherlock opened his eyes suddenly, "Because you are my assistant, I need to do this to you." Of course.
Watson felt as if he was standing naked in the snow. His disguise was stripped off by such a simple sentence, leaving only his sincere soul trembling under Sherlock's straightforward gaze.Then a warmth that was needed and affirmed burst out from the heart without warning, and the blood seemed to flow around every corner of his body wrapped in hot magma.He seemed to come back to reality from a dream all of a sudden. Yes, it was Sherlock who pulled him back to the current London from the very beginning. Whether he admits it or not, Watson today is what he is because of Sherlock. of.
Standing up, Watson put his confusion and choice of evasion behind him. He would not deceive Sarah, but he would not make a choice either. He had no choice from the beginning.
"Greg, what?" A few minutes later in Mycroft's house, the white-haired Inspector checked his phone, then reached for the scarf on the coat rack.
"I'm not eating at home anymore, I'm working overtime." Putting on his gloves, Lestrade simply nodded.
"Greg, have you forgotten something?" Mycroft's voice was still soft, but everyone familiar with it could hear the displeasure inside.
"Apologize to Elizabeth for me. I promised to have dinner with her at night. I broke the contract." Lestrade did not look back. "As compensation, I will read her stories when she sleeps, whatever she likes."
"It's just Elizabeth?" Lestrade heard footsteps getting closer, his back tensed completely uncontrollably, followed by another person's breathing close to his neck, "Is there a story?"
"Mycroft Holmes." Forcing himself not to retreat, MI[-]'s biggest boss's aura is fully open, and no one can bear it, "We were just together, yes, even if my house is not careful Just because the fire made me have to live with you doesn't mean we are living together!" Lestrade felt that he had reached his limit, and he and this man who claimed to be "just a small civil servant" The relationship was already a bad debt, and finally agreeing to "try it" with the other party was completely beyond his expectations.
It's just that Lestrade always walks the talk, and since he said it, it proves that he has no aversion to doing so.So he started learning to date Mycroft, whose last date, for God's sake, was back in college, with his divorced ex-wife of several years.
Fortunately, Mycroft was not an ordinary person, so Lestrade didn't need to worry about when to date, what gifts to give, and finding the right time to compliment each other.In fact, he didn't even bother to find a topic. There is probably nothing in the world that Mycroft doesn't know. Even when Lestrade was bored last time, when he talked about the ancient oriental tomb robbery industry, this man smiled and explained that it was called "" LUOYANGCHAN” [Note 1] What exactly does the thing do.
Lestrade could still recall the expression on his face that had been struck by lightning. He stammered and asked how the other party knew this.What Mycroft said, he has two younger brothers... His younger brothers are very fond of reading books... He and his younger brothers need to have a common language... Although the IQ is not extreme, it is definitely higher than the average For the first time, the inspector of the line discovered that he knew each of these words separately, but he couldn't understand them together.
"Speak human." Pulling Mycroft aside with no expression on his face, Lestrade finally came to his senses—never play around with Holmes.
"Sherlock likes natural science, and Wilton likes it more broadly, especially some supernatural things in the East and West. He is always very interested." Lestrade can still clearly remember the softness on the other party's face, " We always have a common language."
That is, from then on, Lestrade realized that Mycroft was also a person, and the relationship between them changed when he didn't realize it.
"Of course, Greg, Article [-] of the cohabitation agreement, respect each other's space." The black umbrella neatly tied a flower, Mycroft's expression obviously did not change, but Lestrade felt a little wronged .
"Come on." Lestrade rolled his eyes uncontrollably, well, he had to admit that he couldn't resist any slight weakness from this man.
Lips lightly pressed against Mycroft's cheek, Lestrade turned around and started calling. The information they could get from that Michael had already reached the limit, any clue provided by Sherlock might become a major breakthrough for them mouth.
"Which wave is it as of yesterday?" Mycroft stood in front of the French window and did not speak loudly when the inspector's car was out of his sight.
"The third wave, Boss, no identification mark, no captives, still a hired killer." The woman in a black dress seemed to be one with the darkness, standing a few steps behind Mycroft, the reflection of the blackberry Her face looked pale.
"Investigate, start investigating from the fire again." Mycroft had no expression on his face, "That was the only time they evacuated, and only if there are survivors will there be clues." Consulting detectives and criminals sound a good match. , I just don’t know why his stupid brother really believed that Moriarty came to him just out of interest.Oh, maybe he himself is really interested, but the forces behind him are probably more interested in his MI[-] and the coat of arms ring.
"Inspector..." Miss Secretary's voice was very soft.
"You don't need to tell Greg, it's just pure revenge. He is the detective of Scotland Yard after all." Mycroft didn't hesitate. After the swimming pool incident, not only Baker Street, but someone sent people to burn down Lestrade's house.Thank Mycroft for impromptuly leaving him on the bed they were dating that day, otherwise he might have to face a charred corpse.
"Meddlers die." The capital letters, blood-red in color, only appeared on Miss Blackberry's mobile phone for more than ten seconds before disappearing. No matter what investigative methods were used in such a short period of time, there was no way to trace it. Explain that there are people around the other party who are familiar with MI[-]'s workflow and tracking methods.
No matter how rebellious Sherlock is, he is always a Sherlock Holmes.
As night falls over London, some people are busy, some are leisurely, and some... wake up and find themselves in a strange place.
"Stop pretending, your smell is about to fill this place." Turning over neatly and getting up, Wilton first frowned and found that he was only wearing a poor-quality white hospital gown, and then he came from the next bed. The boyfriend is full of the smell of various hormones secreted by excitement.
"Don't be so ruthless, you must know that you were 'on top' of me not long ago [Note 2]." The male voice with some Irish accent was a bit lazy, "What is your last memory?" As expected of Moria Dee, even though they are now locked in a "box" surrounded by glass, he still shows no signs of panic.
"You're awake, I'm going to leave," Wilton frowned. He and the man originally planned to leave after waking up from the bed, but the other party obviously didn't intend to separate immediately.Considering that they were already boyfriends, Wilton had a rare patience and satisfied his boyfriend's first request - a bottle of ice wine, probably this bottle of ice wine, and they appeared here.
"Your enemy?" Moriarty's performance further confirmed Wilton's previous judgment. This man is definitely not an ordinary person. Thinking about his own social network, Wilton made the most likely judgment .
"Why not yours?" Moriarty blinked, and quickly recalled whether there was something wrong with his recent relationship network. You must know that the rule-makers in London's underground world are not so easy to be, especially in the swimming pool incident After it was over, his perfect commission went awry for the first time.Still with a nonchalant smile on his face, the identities and backgrounds of one person after another quickly flashed across his mind.
"Welcome to my game." The two were silent, and a voice obviously sounded through the voice changer, and then, a man with a jackal mask appeared outside the glass wall. "You can choose not to participate. If you don't participate..." He moved his hand and a gun appeared in a corner of the glass wall. "I can send you to see God right now."
"Honey, what do you think?" Moriarty simply found it very interesting. How long has it been? How long has he not had the feeling that his life is more or less controlled by others.This feeling is so exciting that he wants to pinch the neck of the man outside right now, feel his little struggle, and finally stand still.
"Don't be afraid, my dear." Wilton hugged him in his arms. For the sake of his elder brother's poor dentist, his boyfriend had "pleasure" written all over his body. "It won't be fun if it's settled now." He explained in a low voice next to the other party's ear.
The man outside seemed a little disappointed. He looked at the two "panicked" people hugging each other and "comforting" each other, "Don't play tricks, I will come to see you in a few hours." After speaking, he turned around just left.
"Is it really interesting?" Moriarty managed to control his trembling body with excitement, and looked at Wilton fiercely. Even if this person was to his liking, he would not be soft if he hated him. of.
"Of course, I promise." Wilton showed a smile that belonged to Holmes, and successfully captured Moriarty's attention.He studies behavioral psychology, but the behavior of that person just now made it almost impossible for him to read any information, so what else can he say?Maybe the other party really didn't come for his boyfriend. After all, not everyone knew that the person they arrested would be an expert in behavioral psychology.
The author has something to say: [Note 1] Everyone understands LUOYANGCHAN, Luoyang shovel, pinyin hahaha~ By the way, do you want to be so knowledgeable, Brother Mai!
[Note 2] youarestillonmytop, originally wanted to write English in this place, "top" is a pun, not only has the relationship between body position but also attack and subject~ But after much deliberation, I still use Chinese, and the English note is below.
☆, Mrs. Jones's middle name (catch insects)
The news of Wilton and Moriarty's disappearance was not immediately known to Mycroft. After all, although his younger brother was always obedient in the general direction, he didn't really like living under the monitor all the time. set.Mycroft, who has always been a good brother, no longer cared about it after the other party promised to accept a device that would send a signal when pressed at a certain time every day. Anyway, Wilton is the best learner of the Holmes family in terms of free combat. Well, anyone who thinks he's just a professor who can read and study is really blind.
Mycroft couldn't even notice, let alone Sherlock. According to Michael's story, he didn't appear at the scene of killing Julia.But he also didn't have an alibi. On the day Julia disappeared, of course he went to the appointment place with the other party, although Julia didn't show up.But because of this, according to Michael, he simply stayed in the small apartment by himself until night.In order to hide the tryst, he drove the car directly into the garage.
With no witnesses to see the cars entering and leaving, Michael literally "disappeared" for hours.
Correspondingly, Scotland Yard found a knife full of Michael's fingerprints at the crime scene, and there were many missed calls on the mobile phone in Julia's handbag-these calls matched Michael's confession.According to normal logic, if Julia was really imprisoned and killed by Michael, he would have no reason to call her later.
But at the same time, Lestrade and the others have seen many cunning suspects, so the possibility of getting rid of their own suspicions cannot be completely ignored.Before there is more evidence, Lestrade still regards Michael as the first suspect, even though Sherlock has shaken his confidence.
"What are we here for?" Watson followed Sherlock to the West Field Cemetery again. During this period of time, a series of murders made the neighborhood a little jittery.Sherlock turned up the collar of his long trench coat, matching the hat to cover half of his face.
"Julia wasn't killed by Michael, the murderer was someone else." Sherlock's eyes traveled between one silent tombstone after another, as if they would tell him the truth.
"The text message you asked me to send is the real suspect?" Watson recalled. "How do you know that person is right-handed?"
"Observe, my doctor." Sherlock replied a little casually, "the left side of the severed tongue is more torn than the right side. It is obvious that the dagger was used from the right side. If the suspect is left-handed, then the tongue The edge of the knife is not down."
Watson imagined Sherlock's description, and shivered unconsciously, "Why isn't the left hand holding the dagger upside down, you know..." He gestured with his own hand.
"That's why I said you've always just watched," Sherlock glanced at Watson. "Holding the dagger upside down would block his view. He needs to see the victim's face."
"...Perverted" Watson understood immediately. He even thought of the first few corpses. According to forensic identification, except for being imprisoned, wrapped in sackcloth and burned, their tongues were all cut off before they were alive. In other words, the murderer enjoys the process of cutting off the victim's tongue.
"F...F..." Sherlock muttered, and Watson quietly accompanied him. He didn't know what the detective was looking for, but he would do everything he could to make him pay for what he did to the current murderer.
"This is... Mrs. Jones?" Watson saw Sherlock standing in front of a black tombstone, puzzled by the strange name on it.In particular, he noticed the area around the tombstone. The soil that had been dug up not long ago seemed to indicate that this was a newly buried lady.
"Yes, of course you won't notice..." Sherlock seemed to "see" Watson's judgment, and his face was a little haughty at this time, "This is actually not a new tomb, if you I saw her middle name." The black sheepskin gloves flicked across.
Watson's voice suddenly raised, "Fitzwilliam?!"
"Yes," Sherlock turned and left, "It seems that our professor friend still has a lot of secrets to tell, after all, why does he have a different surname from his mother's."
"Why Mrs. Jones?" Watson couldn't help asking after getting into the taxi.
"Mrs. Jones was the first body, but unfortunately she left us no clues other than the name. The second lady is still anonymous; the third, you know, has concentrated all the information the murderer wants to convey." , At that time, what impression do you have of the murderer?" The detective spit out a series of words quickly, and finally asked a question abruptly.
"Uh...the murderer has a special attachment to Westfield Cemetery...the murderer is obsessed with ancient Egyptian legends...and has some relevant knowledge..." Watson frowned, trying to recall his investigation with Sherlock Everything, until he felt that he had nothing to say, then he looked at the detective helplessly.
"So..." The detective raised his eyebrows, as if surprised that Watson only saw so little.
Watson folded his arms, "Of course we are all just ordinary people, so please tell me what else you, an 'unordinary person', can do."
"The murderer is an adult male, over 30 years old, has a stable job with a fairly high social status, he is well-known in his field, and has no bad habits. He is calm, patient, and confident in himself. Heart is full." With a fully stated tone, Sherlock seemed to be recounting a serial killer's file.
"How can you be sure?" Watson knew that Sherlock had his reasons, but he still couldn't help asking.
The detective didn't even know that he showed an expression of "I knew you would ask", "Since the second body, Westfield Cemetery has become the key target of Scotland Yard. Although most of the policemen are idiots, the murderer Still not changing the location, which represents extreme self-confidence. The soaked sackcloth shows that he has planned it all carefully, which requires long planning and patience, and it cannot be done without a steady income. Combining these two points, The murderer's self-confidence probably comes from his real life, social status, and minor fame in a certain field, it's easy, my doctor."
"That...was...amazing...[Note 1]" Watson felt that he was hopeless. No matter how many times he listened to Sherlock's performance, he couldn't help but feel admiration from his heart, although he knew very well that every An analysis like Sherlock's for the first time represented the emergence of a serial killer, but it didn't keep him quiet when he heard the interpretation.It is too easy to praise and impossible to keep silent.
Sherlock's always pale face was reddened, his light-colored eyes glowed with joy, the doctor's praise was like the morphine he was once addicted to, no, it was more addictive than morphine, he never really cared about his position , but if standing on the side of justice can continue to hear the doctor's praise, then he will guarantee that he will always stand on this side.
"So Michael is innocent?" Watson didn't notice the detective's change, and followed his own train of thought, "although he fits every description of a murderer." Isn't it?A well-known archaeologist, still focusing on Egyptian history, in his 30s, any point is right.
"No, I didn't say that." Sherlock quickly collected his emotions, "The fourth corpse shouldn't appear. Although the method is the same, it's still too rough compared to the previous ones. It's like the Beatles[Note 2] It's just as ridiculous to try to play Mendelssohn."
Watson thought for a long time before realizing that the "beatles" Sherlock said did not refer to the real "Beatles", but the Beatles. Seeing the detective's disdainful eyes, the doctor suddenly felt blessed, "You know my favorite The Beatles?!"
Sherlock snorted and didn't speak, Watson couldn't laugh or cry, "Sherlock, this is a serial murder case, and ordinary people generally don't use 'delusion' to describe criminal methods."
The two were silent for a while, and Watson broke the silence, "If the fourth body shouldn't appear, why did the murderer commit the crime?"
"That's what we're going to do, Hansel and Gretel strewn with breadcrumbs on the way out [Note 3], and when they can't find their way..." Sherlock's voice was interrupted by Watson "Go back to where you were."
"Yes, my doctor, 53 Rose Street, maybe that Professor Fitzwilliam will solve our mystery about the fourth corpse." Sherlock answered neatly, and after he finished speaking, he closed his eyes and meditated. It sprinkled on his face through the car window, making soft shadows under the eyes.
In a basement in the other direction of London, a man wearing a jackal mask pushed open a door, and the white light illuminated the small space with no dead ends.In the empty center is a "box" surrounded by glass walls on all sides.There were two white single beds inside the box, but it was obvious that there was no one on one bed, while two people were crowded on the other bed.
"Have you considered it?" The male voice from the voice changer was distorted strangely.
"What are you thinking about?" Wilton put one hand on the back of his head, and the other hand on the waist of another person in his arms. The whole person exuded eroticism from the inside out.
"Is this your true face?" Jackal's emphasis seemed to be a little different.
"Don't say that," Wilton patted Moriarty, and then he stood up and walked towards the glass wall. He completed the transformation of his temperament with a simple collar adjustment, which he had only seen in a documentary Aristocratic etiquette, the person who was content with holding his lover just now seems to be completely non-existent, "A gentleman is always the same on the outside."
"I can help prove it," Moriarty seemed to feel that the jackal looked down on him, and he used the word "mother" to the limit. He twisted his waist and walked on a catwalk to stand beside Wilton, his whole body seemed to be boneless , "This man is definitely as tough as he looks." After speaking, he blew lightly into Wilton's ear, his face full of ambiguity.
"Are you doing this to your fiancée?" Because his voice changed, he couldn't hear Jackal's emotions clearly.
"What does she have to do with this?" Wilton still had the most socially polite smile on his face, but his hands slipped from Moriarty's waist to the other's buttocks, kneading , "You don't just care about your
Lestrade's expression relaxed, "We found your mobile phone, and please fully cooperate with our investigation, maybe someone is framing you."
The expression on Michael's face changed from surprise, anger to calmness at the end, "Then do I have the right to know why you are investigating me?"
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"Yes, she is my lover. We have been dating since three months ago." Michael interrupted Lestrait, saying that he already understood, "It was indeed our date three days ago." It was a good day to meet, but Julia didn't come, and I lost my mobile phone that morning, considering our usual agreement, I didn't call her on purpose." His voice gradually became a little lower, and his eyes were fixed on the document The picture in the folder, "I don't know...I didn't expect...Oh my God!" He let out a whimper, "Sorry..."
There was sympathy in Donovan's eyes, she pushed the white-haired detective, "Detective..."
"Tell me how much you know about Julia?" Lestrade sighed, and sat opposite Michael, facing the possible insider who had just been transformed from a suspect, even though the colleagues around him were leaked because of the other party's emotions. Showing obvious sympathy, Lestrade's two games have not changed, "I must remind you, please do your best to cooperate with us, if we can't find more evidence, then you will be the most suspect That." The inspector would never tell the story of Michael's right hand fingerprints on the tongue knife used at the scene, he is a policeman, he will not let a bad guy go, and he is not willing to frame a good guy.
Michael's eyes flashed, and then he took a deep breath, "Julia and I met in a mutual aid group. Our group mainly helps families who adopt abandoned children in the community. You must know how they integrate after being abandoned. There are still many other problems...”
Lestrade's expression didn't change, he turned off his phone directly, and he didn't plan to answer anyone who came to him for any reason.
One of the "possible characters" that Lestrade is thinking about is not playing with his BlackBerry. In fact, if someone is behind him, he will know that his beloved BlackBerry is almost crushed by him. - Baker By the window of Street 221B, the black-haired detective stared at the two embracing figures downstairs like a demon crawling out of hell.
The one in the brown coat, without looking at Sherlock, knew that the man had gentle eyes, his hair was soft, and his breath was warm when he spoke.It's just that all these are illusions. When he encounters something he thinks needs to be protected, he will turn into a lion and destroy everything that invades his protection range.That man will never learn detours and tricks. Straightforward and rough solutions are exactly what Sherlock needs most. His suspicion and sensitivity are completely unnecessary only around that man. You can read a book that is completely open to you. What to do, when you have absolutely no chance of destroying him.
Closing his eyes, Sherlock forced himself to open them, and face reality.He knew the doctor had had a fight with the woman, and he knew the question the woman would ask sooner or later.John will always make choices, and he has to make it clear to himself that he can't give what the doctor wants, whether it's a home or a stable relationship.The image of the bomb strapped to the doctor's body that night at the pool lingered in his mind. Sherlock told himself that he had to be patient. There would always be a woman anyway, either this Sarah or someone else. Instead of watching Seeing his doctor struggle with relationship after relationship, let's just leave it at that.
Somewhat staggered into the armchair, Sherlock's posture was a rare embarrassment, at least this woman didn't mind John being in danger, maybe after they got married he could still get help from a doctor occasionally, even if he wouldn't be His doctor's only.
The moment the living room door opened, Sherlock folded his legs like a cat, his hands joined together in a steeple shape, his eyes closed, and he looked the same as any other day. "Tea, two pieces of candy." Even the emotion in the voice was completely covered up, and Sherlock Holmes was born to be the best actor.
Watson laughed silently. The weird guilt in his heart due to the hug with Sarah downstairs was completely dispelled by the detective's order. He should have known it long ago, right? Besides, he shouldn't think too much about it.
"I'm not your butler." He even imitated Mrs. Hudson's tone as he put the tea on the round table in front of Sherlock.
Sherlock opened his eyes and was about to say something to laugh at the doctor's boring sense of humor, but his eyes widened the moment he saw him.As if seeing something terrifying, Sherlock rushed forward and tore Watson's coat before he poured the tea.
"Sherlock!" Watson froze for a moment, then struggled violently, "You have to do it..." His voice disappeared into the detective's ice-like sight. For the first time, Watson admitted to himself that Scotland Yard There is a reason why the group of people don't like to look at Sherlock. Anyone who sees the ice hidden in those light gray eyes will feel chills all over.
In such a daze, Sherlock had already thrown Watson's coat aside, followed by a yellow pullover.Watson stopped struggling when he realized that no matter what he did, the other party would not give up. Sherlock would explain it anyway.
Pleased by the doctor's behavior, Sherlock's face did not change at all. He finally took off Watson's pullover, and the doctor, who was only wearing a cotton red and blue plaid shirt, seemed to be emitting warmth all over his body.
"Sherlock..." Sensing that the other party stopped moving, Watson knew that no matter what happened, it should be over. He turned around according to the other party's strength, and his tone was connivance that he didn't realize, "What happened?" ...WHATTHEFUCK[Note]...." His voice was raised sharply, and a note was pasted on the back of the pullover sweater with his body temperature, red capital letters: Mind your own business Those who die.
Sherlock's pupils shrank sharply, and he retracted his previous judgment. The woman named Sarah couldn't do it, because she didn't realize what the danger was at all, and he would never let his doctor take more risks.
The author has something to say: [Note]: WHATTHEFUCK, what the hell is this?
☆, Tragic Sherlock Holmes
"We went to the movies first, and then had dinner at a new restaurant over Big Ben, Sarah's place..." Watson sat in his armchair in his shirt, facing It was a cup of hot tea that he had poured himself, and even though he had emphasized to the detective that ordinary people would pour their roommates a cup of tea as a comfort in such a situation, Sherlock hadn't done anything.
"After dinner, I wanted to take a taxi to take Sarah back, but she said she would rather come to Baker Street to have a look." Speaking of this, Watson's eyes were a little wandering. This was after Sarah asked him that question last time. On their first date, Watson originally wanted to express his opinion, but when he faced Sarah, he found that he couldn't say the words "I choose you".
Watson is not stupid. In fact, he has a slightly higher IQ than ordinary people, especially his EQ is also quite good, so he more or less realized that he might have fallen long ago, at least in Sarah and Sherlock. In between, no, in front of Sherlock and everything he has now, he will only have one choice.Watson is an honest person, and he never wants to take advantage of anything, so he still didn't say it.
Sarah is also a smart woman, maybe a woman is born to interpret this kind of thing, so when Watson couldn't speak, she keenly grasped the other's anxiety and wavering. Sarah is not young, she wants to find A good man who can live seriously will marry, and Watson is her best chance.As if doing a face-to-face dance, Watson only took a step back, and Sarah posted it. This time it was just downstairs on Baker Street. Sooner or later, she would enter 211B and eventually bring Watson back to her home. Home.
The two of them got out of the taxi and walked towards 221B together on the streets of Baker Street. They seemed to meet a few people on the way, but Watson didn't pay much attention. The sense of incongruity that his intimate space was open to another person still upset him.
That's why Watson didn't refuse Sarah's parting hug downstairs in 221B. In the end, he despicably used the power of this strong woman to help him temporarily escape from the detective's spell.
It's just that this kind of relief turned into a joke after seeing Sherlock sitting in the armchair upstairs. The familiar sights and smells seemed to have never changed. As long as Sherlock was still sitting there, it would be his gorgeous living eternity.
Sherlock didn't speak. In fact, he didn't say anything after listening to Watson's narration. Returning to his position at the beginning, Sherlock closed his eyes and thought as if nothing had happened.
Watson couldn't help showing a wry smile. His whole day's struggle and his cranky thoughts just now were actually a joke. Maybe it's like the criminal who consulted said, Sherlock has no heart, at least he doesn't have a heart for a lover.
"John, text the Inspector." Sherlock's eyes remained closed. "Your suspect is right-handed." His voice was full of strong confidence.
"Why don't you send it yourself?" Watson didn't move. He wasn't angry. Really, he was just tired. "Your mobile phone is on the table in front of you, and mine is on it."
Hearing Watson's unusual voice, Sherlock opened his eyes suddenly, "Because you are my assistant, I need to do this to you." Of course.
Watson felt as if he was standing naked in the snow. His disguise was stripped off by such a simple sentence, leaving only his sincere soul trembling under Sherlock's straightforward gaze.Then a warmth that was needed and affirmed burst out from the heart without warning, and the blood seemed to flow around every corner of his body wrapped in hot magma.He seemed to come back to reality from a dream all of a sudden. Yes, it was Sherlock who pulled him back to the current London from the very beginning. Whether he admits it or not, Watson today is what he is because of Sherlock. of.
Standing up, Watson put his confusion and choice of evasion behind him. He would not deceive Sarah, but he would not make a choice either. He had no choice from the beginning.
"Greg, what?" A few minutes later in Mycroft's house, the white-haired Inspector checked his phone, then reached for the scarf on the coat rack.
"I'm not eating at home anymore, I'm working overtime." Putting on his gloves, Lestrade simply nodded.
"Greg, have you forgotten something?" Mycroft's voice was still soft, but everyone familiar with it could hear the displeasure inside.
"Apologize to Elizabeth for me. I promised to have dinner with her at night. I broke the contract." Lestrade did not look back. "As compensation, I will read her stories when she sleeps, whatever she likes."
"It's just Elizabeth?" Lestrade heard footsteps getting closer, his back tensed completely uncontrollably, followed by another person's breathing close to his neck, "Is there a story?"
"Mycroft Holmes." Forcing himself not to retreat, MI[-]'s biggest boss's aura is fully open, and no one can bear it, "We were just together, yes, even if my house is not careful Just because the fire made me have to live with you doesn't mean we are living together!" Lestrade felt that he had reached his limit, and he and this man who claimed to be "just a small civil servant" The relationship was already a bad debt, and finally agreeing to "try it" with the other party was completely beyond his expectations.
It's just that Lestrade always walks the talk, and since he said it, it proves that he has no aversion to doing so.So he started learning to date Mycroft, whose last date, for God's sake, was back in college, with his divorced ex-wife of several years.
Fortunately, Mycroft was not an ordinary person, so Lestrade didn't need to worry about when to date, what gifts to give, and finding the right time to compliment each other.In fact, he didn't even bother to find a topic. There is probably nothing in the world that Mycroft doesn't know. Even when Lestrade was bored last time, when he talked about the ancient oriental tomb robbery industry, this man smiled and explained that it was called "" LUOYANGCHAN” [Note 1] What exactly does the thing do.
Lestrade could still recall the expression on his face that had been struck by lightning. He stammered and asked how the other party knew this.What Mycroft said, he has two younger brothers... His younger brothers are very fond of reading books... He and his younger brothers need to have a common language... Although the IQ is not extreme, it is definitely higher than the average For the first time, the inspector of the line discovered that he knew each of these words separately, but he couldn't understand them together.
"Speak human." Pulling Mycroft aside with no expression on his face, Lestrade finally came to his senses—never play around with Holmes.
"Sherlock likes natural science, and Wilton likes it more broadly, especially some supernatural things in the East and West. He is always very interested." Lestrade can still clearly remember the softness on the other party's face, " We always have a common language."
That is, from then on, Lestrade realized that Mycroft was also a person, and the relationship between them changed when he didn't realize it.
"Of course, Greg, Article [-] of the cohabitation agreement, respect each other's space." The black umbrella neatly tied a flower, Mycroft's expression obviously did not change, but Lestrade felt a little wronged .
"Come on." Lestrade rolled his eyes uncontrollably, well, he had to admit that he couldn't resist any slight weakness from this man.
Lips lightly pressed against Mycroft's cheek, Lestrade turned around and started calling. The information they could get from that Michael had already reached the limit, any clue provided by Sherlock might become a major breakthrough for them mouth.
"Which wave is it as of yesterday?" Mycroft stood in front of the French window and did not speak loudly when the inspector's car was out of his sight.
"The third wave, Boss, no identification mark, no captives, still a hired killer." The woman in a black dress seemed to be one with the darkness, standing a few steps behind Mycroft, the reflection of the blackberry Her face looked pale.
"Investigate, start investigating from the fire again." Mycroft had no expression on his face, "That was the only time they evacuated, and only if there are survivors will there be clues." Consulting detectives and criminals sound a good match. , I just don’t know why his stupid brother really believed that Moriarty came to him just out of interest.Oh, maybe he himself is really interested, but the forces behind him are probably more interested in his MI[-] and the coat of arms ring.
"Inspector..." Miss Secretary's voice was very soft.
"You don't need to tell Greg, it's just pure revenge. He is the detective of Scotland Yard after all." Mycroft didn't hesitate. After the swimming pool incident, not only Baker Street, but someone sent people to burn down Lestrade's house.Thank Mycroft for impromptuly leaving him on the bed they were dating that day, otherwise he might have to face a charred corpse.
"Meddlers die." The capital letters, blood-red in color, only appeared on Miss Blackberry's mobile phone for more than ten seconds before disappearing. No matter what investigative methods were used in such a short period of time, there was no way to trace it. Explain that there are people around the other party who are familiar with MI[-]'s workflow and tracking methods.
No matter how rebellious Sherlock is, he is always a Sherlock Holmes.
As night falls over London, some people are busy, some are leisurely, and some... wake up and find themselves in a strange place.
"Stop pretending, your smell is about to fill this place." Turning over neatly and getting up, Wilton first frowned and found that he was only wearing a poor-quality white hospital gown, and then he came from the next bed. The boyfriend is full of the smell of various hormones secreted by excitement.
"Don't be so ruthless, you must know that you were 'on top' of me not long ago [Note 2]." The male voice with some Irish accent was a bit lazy, "What is your last memory?" As expected of Moria Dee, even though they are now locked in a "box" surrounded by glass, he still shows no signs of panic.
"You're awake, I'm going to leave," Wilton frowned. He and the man originally planned to leave after waking up from the bed, but the other party obviously didn't intend to separate immediately.Considering that they were already boyfriends, Wilton had a rare patience and satisfied his boyfriend's first request - a bottle of ice wine, probably this bottle of ice wine, and they appeared here.
"Your enemy?" Moriarty's performance further confirmed Wilton's previous judgment. This man is definitely not an ordinary person. Thinking about his own social network, Wilton made the most likely judgment .
"Why not yours?" Moriarty blinked, and quickly recalled whether there was something wrong with his recent relationship network. You must know that the rule-makers in London's underground world are not so easy to be, especially in the swimming pool incident After it was over, his perfect commission went awry for the first time.Still with a nonchalant smile on his face, the identities and backgrounds of one person after another quickly flashed across his mind.
"Welcome to my game." The two were silent, and a voice obviously sounded through the voice changer, and then, a man with a jackal mask appeared outside the glass wall. "You can choose not to participate. If you don't participate..." He moved his hand and a gun appeared in a corner of the glass wall. "I can send you to see God right now."
"Honey, what do you think?" Moriarty simply found it very interesting. How long has it been? How long has he not had the feeling that his life is more or less controlled by others.This feeling is so exciting that he wants to pinch the neck of the man outside right now, feel his little struggle, and finally stand still.
"Don't be afraid, my dear." Wilton hugged him in his arms. For the sake of his elder brother's poor dentist, his boyfriend had "pleasure" written all over his body. "It won't be fun if it's settled now." He explained in a low voice next to the other party's ear.
The man outside seemed a little disappointed. He looked at the two "panicked" people hugging each other and "comforting" each other, "Don't play tricks, I will come to see you in a few hours." After speaking, he turned around just left.
"Is it really interesting?" Moriarty managed to control his trembling body with excitement, and looked at Wilton fiercely. Even if this person was to his liking, he would not be soft if he hated him. of.
"Of course, I promise." Wilton showed a smile that belonged to Holmes, and successfully captured Moriarty's attention.He studies behavioral psychology, but the behavior of that person just now made it almost impossible for him to read any information, so what else can he say?Maybe the other party really didn't come for his boyfriend. After all, not everyone knew that the person they arrested would be an expert in behavioral psychology.
The author has something to say: [Note 1] Everyone understands LUOYANGCHAN, Luoyang shovel, pinyin hahaha~ By the way, do you want to be so knowledgeable, Brother Mai!
[Note 2] youarestillonmytop, originally wanted to write English in this place, "top" is a pun, not only has the relationship between body position but also attack and subject~ But after much deliberation, I still use Chinese, and the English note is below.
☆, Mrs. Jones's middle name (catch insects)
The news of Wilton and Moriarty's disappearance was not immediately known to Mycroft. After all, although his younger brother was always obedient in the general direction, he didn't really like living under the monitor all the time. set.Mycroft, who has always been a good brother, no longer cared about it after the other party promised to accept a device that would send a signal when pressed at a certain time every day. Anyway, Wilton is the best learner of the Holmes family in terms of free combat. Well, anyone who thinks he's just a professor who can read and study is really blind.
Mycroft couldn't even notice, let alone Sherlock. According to Michael's story, he didn't appear at the scene of killing Julia.But he also didn't have an alibi. On the day Julia disappeared, of course he went to the appointment place with the other party, although Julia didn't show up.But because of this, according to Michael, he simply stayed in the small apartment by himself until night.In order to hide the tryst, he drove the car directly into the garage.
With no witnesses to see the cars entering and leaving, Michael literally "disappeared" for hours.
Correspondingly, Scotland Yard found a knife full of Michael's fingerprints at the crime scene, and there were many missed calls on the mobile phone in Julia's handbag-these calls matched Michael's confession.According to normal logic, if Julia was really imprisoned and killed by Michael, he would have no reason to call her later.
But at the same time, Lestrade and the others have seen many cunning suspects, so the possibility of getting rid of their own suspicions cannot be completely ignored.Before there is more evidence, Lestrade still regards Michael as the first suspect, even though Sherlock has shaken his confidence.
"What are we here for?" Watson followed Sherlock to the West Field Cemetery again. During this period of time, a series of murders made the neighborhood a little jittery.Sherlock turned up the collar of his long trench coat, matching the hat to cover half of his face.
"Julia wasn't killed by Michael, the murderer was someone else." Sherlock's eyes traveled between one silent tombstone after another, as if they would tell him the truth.
"The text message you asked me to send is the real suspect?" Watson recalled. "How do you know that person is right-handed?"
"Observe, my doctor." Sherlock replied a little casually, "the left side of the severed tongue is more torn than the right side. It is obvious that the dagger was used from the right side. If the suspect is left-handed, then the tongue The edge of the knife is not down."
Watson imagined Sherlock's description, and shivered unconsciously, "Why isn't the left hand holding the dagger upside down, you know..." He gestured with his own hand.
"That's why I said you've always just watched," Sherlock glanced at Watson. "Holding the dagger upside down would block his view. He needs to see the victim's face."
"...Perverted" Watson understood immediately. He even thought of the first few corpses. According to forensic identification, except for being imprisoned, wrapped in sackcloth and burned, their tongues were all cut off before they were alive. In other words, the murderer enjoys the process of cutting off the victim's tongue.
"F...F..." Sherlock muttered, and Watson quietly accompanied him. He didn't know what the detective was looking for, but he would do everything he could to make him pay for what he did to the current murderer.
"This is... Mrs. Jones?" Watson saw Sherlock standing in front of a black tombstone, puzzled by the strange name on it.In particular, he noticed the area around the tombstone. The soil that had been dug up not long ago seemed to indicate that this was a newly buried lady.
"Yes, of course you won't notice..." Sherlock seemed to "see" Watson's judgment, and his face was a little haughty at this time, "This is actually not a new tomb, if you I saw her middle name." The black sheepskin gloves flicked across.
Watson's voice suddenly raised, "Fitzwilliam?!"
"Yes," Sherlock turned and left, "It seems that our professor friend still has a lot of secrets to tell, after all, why does he have a different surname from his mother's."
"Why Mrs. Jones?" Watson couldn't help asking after getting into the taxi.
"Mrs. Jones was the first body, but unfortunately she left us no clues other than the name. The second lady is still anonymous; the third, you know, has concentrated all the information the murderer wants to convey." , At that time, what impression do you have of the murderer?" The detective spit out a series of words quickly, and finally asked a question abruptly.
"Uh...the murderer has a special attachment to Westfield Cemetery...the murderer is obsessed with ancient Egyptian legends...and has some relevant knowledge..." Watson frowned, trying to recall his investigation with Sherlock Everything, until he felt that he had nothing to say, then he looked at the detective helplessly.
"So..." The detective raised his eyebrows, as if surprised that Watson only saw so little.
Watson folded his arms, "Of course we are all just ordinary people, so please tell me what else you, an 'unordinary person', can do."
"The murderer is an adult male, over 30 years old, has a stable job with a fairly high social status, he is well-known in his field, and has no bad habits. He is calm, patient, and confident in himself. Heart is full." With a fully stated tone, Sherlock seemed to be recounting a serial killer's file.
"How can you be sure?" Watson knew that Sherlock had his reasons, but he still couldn't help asking.
The detective didn't even know that he showed an expression of "I knew you would ask", "Since the second body, Westfield Cemetery has become the key target of Scotland Yard. Although most of the policemen are idiots, the murderer Still not changing the location, which represents extreme self-confidence. The soaked sackcloth shows that he has planned it all carefully, which requires long planning and patience, and it cannot be done without a steady income. Combining these two points, The murderer's self-confidence probably comes from his real life, social status, and minor fame in a certain field, it's easy, my doctor."
"That...was...amazing...[Note 1]" Watson felt that he was hopeless. No matter how many times he listened to Sherlock's performance, he couldn't help but feel admiration from his heart, although he knew very well that every An analysis like Sherlock's for the first time represented the emergence of a serial killer, but it didn't keep him quiet when he heard the interpretation.It is too easy to praise and impossible to keep silent.
Sherlock's always pale face was reddened, his light-colored eyes glowed with joy, the doctor's praise was like the morphine he was once addicted to, no, it was more addictive than morphine, he never really cared about his position , but if standing on the side of justice can continue to hear the doctor's praise, then he will guarantee that he will always stand on this side.
"So Michael is innocent?" Watson didn't notice the detective's change, and followed his own train of thought, "although he fits every description of a murderer." Isn't it?A well-known archaeologist, still focusing on Egyptian history, in his 30s, any point is right.
"No, I didn't say that." Sherlock quickly collected his emotions, "The fourth corpse shouldn't appear. Although the method is the same, it's still too rough compared to the previous ones. It's like the Beatles[Note 2] It's just as ridiculous to try to play Mendelssohn."
Watson thought for a long time before realizing that the "beatles" Sherlock said did not refer to the real "Beatles", but the Beatles. Seeing the detective's disdainful eyes, the doctor suddenly felt blessed, "You know my favorite The Beatles?!"
Sherlock snorted and didn't speak, Watson couldn't laugh or cry, "Sherlock, this is a serial murder case, and ordinary people generally don't use 'delusion' to describe criminal methods."
The two were silent for a while, and Watson broke the silence, "If the fourth body shouldn't appear, why did the murderer commit the crime?"
"That's what we're going to do, Hansel and Gretel strewn with breadcrumbs on the way out [Note 3], and when they can't find their way..." Sherlock's voice was interrupted by Watson "Go back to where you were."
"Yes, my doctor, 53 Rose Street, maybe that Professor Fitzwilliam will solve our mystery about the fourth corpse." Sherlock answered neatly, and after he finished speaking, he closed his eyes and meditated. It sprinkled on his face through the car window, making soft shadows under the eyes.
In a basement in the other direction of London, a man wearing a jackal mask pushed open a door, and the white light illuminated the small space with no dead ends.In the empty center is a "box" surrounded by glass walls on all sides.There were two white single beds inside the box, but it was obvious that there was no one on one bed, while two people were crowded on the other bed.
"Have you considered it?" The male voice from the voice changer was distorted strangely.
"What are you thinking about?" Wilton put one hand on the back of his head, and the other hand on the waist of another person in his arms. The whole person exuded eroticism from the inside out.
"Is this your true face?" Jackal's emphasis seemed to be a little different.
"Don't say that," Wilton patted Moriarty, and then he stood up and walked towards the glass wall. He completed the transformation of his temperament with a simple collar adjustment, which he had only seen in a documentary Aristocratic etiquette, the person who was content with holding his lover just now seems to be completely non-existent, "A gentleman is always the same on the outside."
"I can help prove it," Moriarty seemed to feel that the jackal looked down on him, and he used the word "mother" to the limit. He twisted his waist and walked on a catwalk to stand beside Wilton, his whole body seemed to be boneless , "This man is definitely as tough as he looks." After speaking, he blew lightly into Wilton's ear, his face full of ambiguity.
"Are you doing this to your fiancée?" Because his voice changed, he couldn't hear Jackal's emotions clearly.
"What does she have to do with this?" Wilton still had the most socially polite smile on his face, but his hands slipped from Moriarty's waist to the other's buttocks, kneading , "You don't just care about your
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