[Comprehensive Classics] Detective Moriarty

Ciri sat in her rented house on Hampton Street.

There was an envelope on the wooden table, and she carefully scratched it with a small dagger, and poured out all the contents.First, a few silver coins fell, which was one of the most pleasing sounds for Shirley, and then another check fell, and she kissed a few money like a money fanatic, thinking that the money would be hard to refuse. What a wonderful feeling it is.

There is nothing happier in this world than getting paid!

She picked up the envelope again and found that there was still a note inside. She opened it and saw that it was written by Paul, telling her to ignore the outside gossip and urging her to continue to write the story of the Murray detective.

This incident was a good thing, but at the same time it made her difficult, not because of the gossip, but because of the subject matter of her creation. Writing a high-quality detective novel requires a lot of supplements such as medical and scientific knowledge. She must To be honest, she has no higher attainments in this area. If she directly imitates a groundless sophistry detective, the readers will be disappointed as much as they expect. There is no suspense at all.

And now she went to supplement some knowledge, and it took a huge amount of time.In terms of her goal, she can't afford to wait,

She had to find a way to continue creating without wasting time and getting inspiration.

Ciri locked the check in a box, and took the remaining silver coins to Covent Garden.

On the road, I saw a lot of adults wandering around with rough cloth bags on their backs, and most of their clothes indicated that they came from the countryside—not that they had any strange eyes, but because their popularity was relatively backward, which made people Can identify at a glance.

However, it is not excluded that old-fashioned rich gentlemen prefer the pleasant atmosphere of the country.Well, London, everyone is crowding here, trying to go higher, just as the city is being pushed forward by the industrial revolution and shrouded in fog.

The small vendors in Covent Garden are very good at setting up stalls, and those strange costumes are very famous in the whole of London. Shirley would occasionally go there to buy a glass of raw milk to cook and drink, but this time she had a little money, she You can show a little pride, such as... buy more food.

In the past, the sense of happiness was to let other people’s children help with homework, but now the sense of happiness is called eating and drinking well.

So speaking of Moriarty...

Ciri rested her chin on her fingers as if thinking. Although she said before that she didn't plan to have any interaction with him, she didn't expect that she couldn't write Morrie's story by herself.Now, for the birth of the new "Mr. Morrie's Detective Collection", she, who has worked hard in science, must visit him... Does literary creation really have to start with the prototype of the character?

"So, you're here for this?"

Ciri stared at the two glass jars of milk, and looked up to lock on to the questioning man. He was holding a teacup, with the other hand in his trouser pocket, leaning against the desk.The fine tailoring of the dark brown suit outlined the man's slender figure, and some just-right folds were drawn as he drank tea.

"I think I should bring some presents anyway," Ciri clasped her hands together, pretending to be cute and innocent, "but I can't afford such expensive ones, of course you are now a professor, a teacher of the people, and you want to teach the future of England. The pillar of talent—”

Moriarty let out an "ah" in a dragged tone, and Ciri immediately shut her mouth. She knew that instead of hitting the horse's butt, it was like an uppercut to the horse's hooves.

"So?" He paused and asked.

"So? Make up your mind?" Shirley smirked, "I think what I bought is quite right..."

Moriarty should be smiling. She was guessing which word pleased him, when he gently put the teacup aside and asked her, "Is there anything else?"

"What?" Shirley didn't respond immediately.

"I said, is there anything else? What else can you give me?" He folded his arms around his chest, walked slowly to Ciri, and looked at her. It was a long cotton skirt, and a brown U/S/U/S/extra coat was put on it. Compared with Moriarty, it felt quite small.

"I..." Ciri knew that Moriarty was playing a game of equivalent exchange with her again, "You have to listen to me and finish my request."

"Aren't you a detective according to what I wrote? Last time you said that we are exactly the same. Besides, there is no need to guess. The story about you in London can easily reach my ears. Oh, is it a bit late for me to say congratulations now?" Already?" He casually sat down on the sofa, and now looks up at Ciri who has not yet sat down, "You want to find more inspiration from me, it's not difficult, the subject of mathematics covers That's a lot—so do you have anything else to bring me?"

He naturally stretched out and pulled her fingertips under his nose for a sniff, pulling out the lingering sweetness, "I haven't eaten lunch, have you brought enough croissants?"

Ciri quickly withdrew her hand and smelled it herself. She was sure there was no special smell, but she still took out a handkerchief to wipe it, and then smiled embarrassedly and said, "I finished eating when I came here."

He didn't respond to her words, just stared at her seriously.

Scrutinized by such penetrating eyes, if it was any other man, Ciri might be about to get angry.But this person is Moriarty, the prototype of the main character she relies on for food at present.

Moriarty was very satisfied with this, he could see that she seemed to understand what he meant, just like when she was a child, from time to time the two of them would do some unspoken and absurd things.

Ciri pursed her lips, and she reached out and took off the embellishment of her hairstyle from the back of her head. It was a small flower, somewhat inconspicuous, Ciri picked it from the station gate, and she handed it to him.

"I still have this - I can still treat you to a good lunch. Maybe, do you want my autograph as a souvenir? Maybe it will sell for a high price in the future."

Shirley sometimes treated Moriarty quite perfunctorily when he was a child. For example, he would often pick some useless plants and give them to him. In the past, this math genius would think that he was super generous. Forgive that there are always fools in this world There are stupid people in the world.

Moriarty twisted his neck, tilted his head slightly, and made a slight arc, as if he was thinking about something from the past.

Immediately, he reached out to catch the little flower and placed it on the coffee table.Perhaps because of her exaggerated words, there was even a hint of a smile on the corner of his mouth.

"I think that's enough, Miss Blind Confidence."

Ciri thought she had successfully fooled him again.

She covered her mouth and smiled lightly. She always felt that she had spent very little time with Moriarty in the past, but when she thought about it carefully, those little memories became clear again.

And, not so little.

She still remembers the first time they met.

A few days after she moved, her father was busy with business, so he only asked her to visit the Moriarty family in the next door.

Shirley was extremely reluctant about this matter.

But she couldn't resist the temptation of Mr. Bird's meeting gift—a large box of Kent strawberries.

When she finishes delivering this box, she goes back and eats the rest.

But she stood in front of this Mr. Moriarty's house for a long time. She rang the doorbell ten times, but no one opened the door.

When she thought that this box of strawberries "had no way" to belong to her, the door was opened with a creak.

At this time, she was still holding a strawberry in her hand.

A maid with a blank face stared at her with searching eyes. The maid didn't speak, and stood still like a wax figure.

But what made her even more uncomfortable was the little boy walking slowly behind her. He was about ten years old, with black and soft hair, wearing a long milky white nightgown, showing a white and thin calf.

She stuffed the strawberry back under the watchful eyes of the two of them, and put on a face that nothing happened, and said: "I just moved here next door, and my name is Hillary Bird, because my father is too busy." , I'll do it for you—I hope you like this box of strawberries."

Another awkward atmosphere lasted for a few seconds.

In the end, it was the same boy who walked around the maid and took the box from Ciri's hand, while the maid stared at him closely, with more expressions on her face, as if something would go wrong in the middle of his movements of.

"Would you like to come in and sit?" was the boy's first words so far, "so that you can eat the whole box of strawberries."

"Okay, why not?"

The boy's eyes were still cold, but unfortunately, the only thing in the eyes of a greedy 12-year-old girl was the box of strawberries.

It was clearly daytime, but Moriarty's house was dark and gloomy. The old but gorgeous decoration showed the ancient and long history of this house. The portraits of several ancestors hung on the wall of the foyer, like pairs of lifeless eyes watching Every foreigner who walks here.

Ciri cleaned her hands under the service of the maid, and followed little Moriarty into the living room. The first thing she saw was a big fireplace not much shorter than him burning with flames. The pillars of the fireplace were engraved with two Birds, they each hold a flower that she can't name, and they look like they are about to take off.

In front of the fireplace is a red, valuable plush carpet, and a black leather sofa is placed here.

Something black on the carpet moved, and she realized that there was another living creature in the living room, a black hound lying on it, and when he was about to bark to warn Ciri, the uninvited guest, Moriarty With a wave of his hand, the big dog lay back down again, whining as if wronged.

Moriarty sat on one of the single sofas with the box of strawberries in his arms—of course, he didn't sit properly, but lay on his side with his legs crossed on the arm of the sofa on one side.

"come over."

He waved at her, Ciri didn't know why, but this request was not unreasonable, she complied with him.

But suddenly the hound seemed to go crazy, and sprayed towards her, and she was knocked down before she could react.

Moriarty, on the other hand, burst into a sneer, crystal clear in the room where the only sound was the crackling of flames on wood.

Ciri understood that this was a wicked child.

"Is this what you made it do?"

She stood up quickly and stared at him.