Harry of the Sherlock Holmes

The inhabitants of Baker Street probably have the best minds in the world, and they can take whatever happens on this street with equanimity, even if they see a giant-a man twice as tall as ordinary people, and at least [-] feet wide. Five times, it seemed surprisingly tall and brutish.No one screamed, no one called the police, and no one even stayed too curiously.

Come on, don't you see whose door that guy is standing at?If your neighbor's house is filled with gunshots every day, small explosions every now and then, and kids without shoes going in and out with people in tailor-made suits, you won't be surprised by anything anymore.You see, that's 221B Baker Street, the home of the only consulting detective in the world.

Rubeus Hagrid felt a little uncomfortable, and Sherlock almost leaned himself over to observe him, muttering some complicated biological terms.John and Harry laughed dryly, and no one could stop Sherlock from entering the research state.Of course, they were also full of curiosity about Hagrid.

Fortunately, Sherlock finally stopped before the giant couldn't take it anymore. He adjusted his clothes gracefully, and asked him politely, "Tea or coffee?"

Surprised by his transformation, the giant refused, "Thank you, but Professor Dumbledore asked me to take you to the right..."

Sherlock turned around, took a cup and stuffed it into his hand, "Don't mind, we can't delay." He winked at the giant.

Facts have proved that as long as Sherlock wants to, no one can refuse him.Hagrid looked forward to Sherlock, John reprimanded, and Harry drank his coffee helplessly, and then quickly fell silent.

"Brilliant!" Sherlock pulled out a needle and stuck it in the hand of their magic world receptionist. "Oh, he should be some kind of giant hybrid. It's an excellent experimental material."

"Sherlock, you shouldn't be doing this."

"The dose of sedative is not large, he will wake up soon. I just drew a tube of blood."

"Wake up... oh, I fell asleep? I'm so sorry." Hagrid showed an apologetic expression on his face, which was almost completely covered by his unkempt long hair and tangled bushy beard. He patted John, who came to him to care about his situation. shoulder said.

"Uh...no, no, you haven't slept long." John felt the strong effort on his shoulders to force a smile, and he forced himself not to pay attention to the words like "excellent drug resistance" that Sherlock said.

"This is it." Hagrid stopped and said, "The Leaky Cauldron is a very famous place."

"Interesting," Harry heard his father say.When it comes to understanding London, no one has a deeper understanding than Sherlock. He has all the maps of London in his mind, but he obviously doesn't know this place (1).And Harry wouldn't have noticed the dingy little bar if Hagrid hadn't pointed it out.People hurrying by don't even look at it.Their eyes were only on the big bookstore and record store on one side, and they didn't seem to see the Broken Axe at all.

"Are we seeing the same thing? Suddenly it came out of the air." John looked at his son curiously.

"I think he's always been there."

"It's magic, it makes Muggles ignore this place." Hagrid explained loudly.

"But after being told of its existence, we can see it now. It's a conscious effect," Sherlock muttered.Harry was going to feel sorry for the MI5 agents who were spying on them and protecting them.After this trip, their monitoring will be raised by at least three levels. (God bless Uncle Mike's hairline)

As a well-known place, is it here?It was dark and dirty, Harry thought to himself.Several old women were sitting in a corner drinking sherry from glasses, and one of them was smoking a stick of pouch.A small man in a top hat was chatting with a barkeeper whose hair was nearly bare and as long as a blunted walnut.The chirping stopped abruptly as soon as they entered.Everyone seemed to know Hagrid here, they smiled and waved at him.Harry was so thankful he had his hat and glasses on when he went out, he hid himself behind John.

The barkeep picked up a glass and said, "As usual, Hagrid?"

"No, Tom, I'm giving..."

Sherlock rushed past him, across the bar, and out to the small walled patio, yelling at Hagrid, "What are you doing, it's getting late!" Harry and John trotted after him.

"Oh, Dumbledore said not to call out Harry's name here, I almost made a big mistake." Hagrid whimpered a little, "It's a good thing you stopped me, sir."

There was a puzzled expression on his face: "But I, I didn't say we're going to Diagon Alley from here?"

"Someone just disappeared from there." Sherlock explained absently, he just smelled something interesting. "That man over there, the pale man with the hood (2), do you know who he is?"

"Professor Quirrell!" said Hagrid. "Harry, Professor Quirrell was one of your teachers at Hogwarts. He's an unlucky fellow. He's brilliant, and he was a good reader at school." Good. But then he took a year off from school, in order to gain some first-hand practical experience... It is said that he met a vampire in the Black Forest, and an old witch got him into a lot of trouble, and since then, He's a completely different person. Afraid of the students, afraid of the subjects he teaches... oh, where's my umbrella?"

"Professor?" John and Sherlock looked at each other, and Harry had just told him that the lightning-shaped scar hurt a little when he met Quirrell.

"Yes." At this moment Hagrid was counting the bricks above the dustbin.

"Count up three dollars--and two dollars down--" he murmured. "Okay, stand back"

He tapped the wall three times with the head of his umbrella.

The brick he had knocked shuddered and began to move, and a small hole appeared in the middle. The hole became bigger and bigger. Before long, there was an archway wide enough for Hagrid to pass, leading to a winding The winding, unending cobblestone streets.

"Welcome," said Hagrid, "welcome to Diagon Alley."