Silent guardian

Sherlock put down his whip, took out a notebook and pen from his pocket, and began to write quickly.

"Two 10 minutes later, tell me about the bruises on the body, someone's alibi is up to him, text me."

"Oh well."

The skin was smooth and clean just now, but now it is covered with welts, and the deep red streaks seem to be an accusation of violence against Sherlock. Mora walked over, intending to cover the corpse with a white cloth, but Sherlock stopped him.

"Don't move, or all my efforts will be in vain."

"But," Mo La hesitated, "isn't it good to expose him to the outside?"

"How could it be bad?" Sherlock asked back, and gave her a puzzled look, "Don't let your damn pity destroy my masterpiece, just let him, now he's just a bunch of There is nothing wrong with the composition of water and protein."

Well, forgive her for forgetting, the guy in front of him has gone far beyond the scope of human beings, his brain has been occupied by reason, and there is no room for human nature at all.

Mora glanced at the corpse again and remained silent.

Suddenly, Sherlock's pen stopped moving, and Mora raised her head, and saw that the other party was staring at her with serious eyes.

Mora's heart skipped a beat, and her nerves immediately entered a state of alert.

"Why is your lipstick gone?"

Mo La felt relieved, then raised her finger to touch the corner of her lips and put it down again, saying in a muffled voice, "It's no longer useful to me now."

"No, it's still pretty good, at least your mouth doesn't look so small."

Mora yelled in her heart, is there anyone more puzzled than Sherlock Holmes?

The answer is naturally: no.

Sherlock took off his clothes, then opened the door of the laboratory, took a step with his feet and stopped.

"Can I have a cup of coffee, I'm upstairs."

Mo La turned around, only to see the other party smiled at her, and then disappeared from her sight.

It was only when Mora came to the lounge that Sherlock thought of what Sherlock said just now, unlike his usual definite style, because he didn't ask for coffee, did he do it on purpose, or did he forget?

As for the latter, she believed in the former more. How could a person like him who was meticulous about every detail and everything by himself could forget such a trivial matter.

Holding the coffee and carrying the riding whip that Sherlock had forgotten in the laboratory in her pocket, Mora walked up to the second floor with heavy steps, and heard the conversation far outside the door.

"Mike, can I borrow your cell phone? Mine has no signal."

"Can't you use the phone?"

"I love texting."

"Excuse me, it's in my coat."

After a moment of silence, an unfamiliar voice broke in.

"Here, use mine."

"Oh, thank you."

Mora pushed open the door just in time to see a man with a cane handing Sherlock a cell phone.

With the sound of the door opening, everyone's eyes turned around.

"Oh, Molly, thank you for the coffee." Sherlock walked over and took the coffee from Maura's hand.

"And your whip." Mora reminded.

"Thank you for your reminder." Sherlock glanced at Mora's pocket, "Put it in my coat pocket for me, thank you."

"You're welcome."

A chubby middle-aged man, Moura heard Sherlock call him Mike just now, was sitting on the chair of the experiment table, and showed a familiar smile to Moura, "Ha, Jasmine, I haven't seen you for a few days, and I changed again." Pretty."

"Thank you." Mo La nodded shyly, then looked at the silent guest beside her, "Would you like to sit down?"

"Oh, no need." He showed a friendly smile, and the grip of his right hand, which was holding a cane, strengthened a little.

"Okay." Mora didn't hesitate, walked to the hanger at the door, put the riding whip in her pocket into Sherlock's coat pocket, and accidentally touched a cold sphere with a smooth surface and an oval through hole , Mora looked down, only glimpsed a piece of gray.

It's a skull, a complete dead man's skull.

Mora glanced at Sherlock, and couldn't help but suspect that he did it on purpose, but if it was Jasmine, she wouldn't show any surprise, because Jasmine deals with these things every day.

"This is my old friend, Watson John." Mike introduced.

Sherlock took a sip of coffee, was silent for a while, and then put the coffee on the unused workbench behind him. Obviously, he didn't intend to take a second sip.

"Afghanistan or Iraq?"

"What?" Watson looked at Sherlock who was fiddling with his mobile phone, but before he could react for a while, he looked at Mike, who shrugged innocently at him.

Sherlock repeated, "Have you been to Afghanistan or Iraq?"

Watson didn't speak, and seemed completely out of touch. He couldn't understand why the other party knew so much about him. For a person who met for the first time, this kind of familiarity was horrifying.

Sherlock asked again, "What do you think of the violin?"

"What? What do you mean?" Watson was completely confused.

"I play the violin when I'm thinking, and sometimes I don't talk for days. Do you mind? As future roommates, we have to know each other's worst case." Then he grinned, and the smile lasted for a second , and then quickly disappears.

Watson looked at Mike with a puzzled face, "Did you mention me to him?"

Mike shook his head, "Never mentioned it."

Mora couldn't help but say, "He's a detective, and what he's good at is capturing information. He can interpret a person in a few seconds."

As soon as Mora thought of Jasmine's first meeting with Sherlock, the other party also made Jasmine feel at a loss. She even wrote a love letter to her deskmate she had a crush on yesterday and even analyzed the content of the love letter clearly. In contrast, Hua Sheng John's expression was much calmer. This may be because he practiced in the military career without changing his expression.

"Three seconds." Sherlock corrected Mora's inaccurate data.

"You'll have to get used to it," Maura said to Watson. "He'll be a good roommate."

"Really?" Watson was skeptical.

Who can change Sherlock Holmes?

Naturally, it was Watson John.

There is no doubt about this answer. Before Watson's wife appeared on the stage, the whole story revolved around two single men. Kauf's ridicule, and a series of ambiguous scenes and lines carried out under the meaning of ridicule.

Mora looked at Watson John calmly. At first glance, he felt that he was a reliable person. Although he had joined the army, he did not have the tough demeanor of a soldier and his friendly attitude towards people. If Sherlock was If you are a stubborn believer, then he is the tireless and patient priest.

Looking at the sharp-edged Sherlock, she suddenly remembered a sentence that someone had said in her ear before: It is the ultimate dream of all the rotten girls for unruly believers to overthrow the faithful dog-like priests.