Silent guardian

In the central command post of MI6, the red light of the alarm kept flashing, and all the work interfaces were covered by the same photo. The scientific researchers and the guards kept running back and forth, like a group of ants that were disturbed.

Mycroft stood on the podium, expressionless and silent, until Miss Assistant's phone rang suddenly.

"Sir, call."

Mycroft frowned suspiciously, took the phone and handed it to his ear.

"Mycroft Holmes."

"Hello." The gentle female voice was very young, with an exotic accent.

"Queen,,,,,," Mycroft's eyes darkened, and he immediately gestured to the staff who was staring at him, and the other party immediately understood.

"Sorry, this is a recording, and it should have been ten hours since now."

Mycroft was taken aback for a moment, and frowned in displeasure. He didn't like this passive feeling very much.

"My dear Mr. Holmes, I am very disappointed. I have been waiting for you."

",,,,,," Mycroft looked around, everyone looked pale.

"I helped you intercept Moriarty's suicide train. Anyway, you have to thank me, even though I failed to leave the body for you."

"You were showing off."

A computer can be used to control the trajectory and speed of the train, and even the explosion range of the bomb. Such an incredible thing has become a reality for this Queen.Mycroft couldn't imagine who would suffer worse if she confronted the British government.

The other party laughed lightly, "You can say so if you want, but in the last five days, if you are really useless to that extent, that plan can only be permanently collected by the Russian archives."

"what do you want?"

"Bye, Mr. Holmes."

Mycroft still wanted to ask questions, but he could only hear a series of busy tones.

【221B Baker Street】

Mycroft quickly scanned the text messages on his mobile phone, looking embarrassed.

The opponent's purpose is very clear, this is a difficult problem for Sherlock, another Moriarty has appeared, and his poor little brother is still not sure who is hurting.

There was no sound in the entire operation room, and the tense atmosphere permeated like gunpowder smoke.

"Sir?" the assistant asked cautiously.

"Say!"

"Susie Crews, male, 27 years old, living alone, unmarried, no criminal record, never joined a cult organization, good character, good study, the designer of Weidunsi Safe Co., Ltd. designed a safe box three months ago. A multi-functional electronic password anti-theft safe, won the company’s quarterly innovation award, and then took leave to Dusseldorf for vacation, and died in a car accident due to drunk driving two evenings ago.”

"Safety box? Designer? Drunk driving?"

A genius hacker hangs a picture of a safe designer on the screen of MI[-], is it to get them to patronize Weddens' business?

Only an idiot would think so.

McCoff raised his chin and asked thoughtfully, "Who bought that design?"

"anonymous."

It was still rainy in London in February. The sky was clear when Watson set off from Baker Street, but when he got out of the taxi, the rain had washed down the street for a long time.

Mycroft stood in front of the cafe, holding a black umbrella, expressionless.

Watson stroked the hem of his clothes, and greeted him with a serious expression.

There was no greeting, the two of them entered the door in silence all the way, and then sat down in the corner.When the waiter wanted to come forward to ask what he needed, he was dismissed by McCoff with a look.

The atmosphere was very serious, and Watson didn't know how to resolve the seriousness. He felt so weird. He had only been lying in the hospital for two days, and everything outside had changed so badly.

He coughed lightly, and said slowly, "It's still the same, hardly eating, not talking, and repeatedly playing the piece that Mora left before. It's been two months, and I'm worried that he won't be Continue like this,,,,,,"

Mycroft frowned, clenched the handle of the umbrella in his hand, and continued to remain silent.

Watson clasped his hands tightly, pursed his lips, and continued, "His appearance has not changed in any way. He is still neat and clean. When clients come, he will quietly listen to them finish their case, and finally see off the guests in silence. Everything is so normal, no more quarreling and boredom, no more putting those specimens in the refrigerator, and no more venting against the wall with a gun in the middle of the night, but,,,,,, I know, his soul has already Sleepy and withering, we've got to figure something out, Mycroft."

Mycroft stretched out his index finger, tapped the umbrella handle twice, and lifted his chin.

"I am also responsible for this matter. I didn't know that Mora had such a deep influence on him."

"You don't know?" Although this is not the first time that Mycroft has admitted his mistake, Watson still couldn't help but want to sneer, "The whole of Britain is yours, what don't you know? For the benefit of the country, do A sacrifice was necessary, I know that, but that was your brother, and besides, what did Maura do wrong? Just because she knew Moriarty, she was doomed to be a sacrifice?"

In fact, he has always had a good temper, but in this matter, he has never been able to be calm. He can't understand why the person who was in front of him one second before disappeared the next second.

"I'm sorry." Apart from this sentence, Mycroft couldn't find any other words to respond.

Watson took a breath and calmed down. Today he came to discuss how to help Sherlock, not to find out who was responsible for Mora's death.

Mycroft took out a USB flash drive from his pocket and handed it to Watson, "He needs a case now, and there are enough novel cases to arouse his interest."

The USB flash drive is nothing special, it is the kind of cheap one that can be bought in any store on the street, but it has a kind of fragrance on it, the cold fragrance of Hualuzhen.

The weather is not very good today, but Sherlock suddenly wants to go for a walk.He found the suit that had been idle for more than two months from the closet. He hesitated for a long time before he took a breath and put it on. Mrs. Hudson's workmanship is very good. Except for the rough touch of the fingers, the naked eye cannot recognize the shoulders. It was once torn there.

Clothes are torn and can be mended, but what about the heart?

That kind of sad thought is like a hungry jaguar, a small movement can cause it to slam into the cage desperately.

Sherlock could only hold the glass tightly with his hands, until the glass broke in his hands, and his heart could not calm down.

He reached into his pocket and felt a small ball. He thought for a while before he remembered that it was given to him by Morase, and he never had time to look at it when he was in the hospital.The paper ball has been soaked in washing water, and the handwriting has become blurred. Sherlock took out the pull-out magnifying glass, which has not been used for more than two months, and his fingers have become extremely stiff, but this does not prevent him from recognizing the A capital Q.

"Mycroft asked me to give it to you." Watson put the USB flash drive on the coffee table in front of Sherlock.

Sherlock turned his head, a distant aroma immediately invaded his brain, he pondered for a moment, his eyes lit up.

"What's in here?"

"He didn't say so," replied Watson.

"The Bruce Partington plan," Sherlock squinted, stood up and stroked his shirt, and shouted energetically, "Finally something to do, get ready, John."

Watson raised his head suspiciously. He had already walked to the window, lifted the violin and put it on his shoulder, and played a series of soft and light tunes.

The author has something to say:

Sadness continues.