[Shenxia Tongren] My dear brothers and adults

Moriarty nearly rolled his eyes and fainted when he learned that he would have to stay in bed for the next three months until his fractures healed, saying, "Hypatia, I hate hospitals, I've had enough, I'm leaving the hospital."

Hypatia pressed him and said to the doctor: "I know, I will pay attention to supplementing his nutrition and urging him to move his limbs." Moriarty's protest was invalid and the appeal was rejected.

Moriarty took a look at this guy who looked more like a bandit than a doctor, and said to Hypatia, "Hypatia, you can't find a medical school dropout to see me."

The doctor gave Moriarty a contemptuous look, turned and left without speaking, and limped away on crutches.

Seeing that the doctor had left, Hypatia said to him with a wry smile: "Sir, you ran away with anger just now, are you proud of that?"

"Is he related to Sherlock's Johnnyboy? See how he limps."

"No, he is said to be from the Affiliated Hospital of Princeton University. Who knows? I just said that I want to invite the best doctors in the United States."

They quickly forgot about the bandit-like doctor, Hypatia was busy suppressing Moriarty on the hospital bed, and Moriarty was busy conceiving an escape plan.

While Moriarty was recuperating, Sherlock also became famous in the United States with the case of hiding the body in a water tower, and a large number of media reporters followed him every day.This gave Sherlock even more reason to stay in the hotel when he was not in court.

It wasn't until a month later that the trial of the case ended that the frenzy of chasing famous detectives gradually subsided.On this peaceful morning, Watson, who had just finished breakfast, read the newspaper and said to Sherlock, who was laying dead on the sofa: "Sherlock, there aren't many reports about us recently, we can go out for a stroll."

"boring!"

"We can go to Hollywood and see."

"boring."

"Or Santa Monica to see your sister."

"Boring, no, we can go and see the Napoleon of crime lying in his hospital bed, it must be interesting."

"Napoleon of crime?! Are you talking about Moriarty? Puff haha..."

? !Sherlock doesn't understand this, what's so funny about it?Why did John suddenly have a convulsion? !

Watson smiled for a while before saying, "Aren't you really trying to embarrass him? His height is probably about the same as Napoleon's."

Sherlock couldn't help laughing when he heard this.At this time, the phone in the room rang, and Sherlock was sitting near the phone, stretched out his long arms, picked up the phone, and said, "Hello?"

"Hello, is this Mr. Holmes?"

"Yes."

"A lady has asked to meet with you..."

"Interview missing!"

"No, it's not an interview, she said she has a case to ask for help..."

"Let her come up."

"Okay, sir."

Sherlock hung up the phone neatly, then got up and said, "John, we have a case." After finishing speaking, he went into the room to change clothes, Watson looked at the messy living room of the suite, and said, "My God. "I started to throw all kinds of garbage on the sofa and on the ground behind the sofa and on the terrace, so that it is out of sight and out of sight.

Watson just hid the rubbish just now, and then saw that the sofa was dyed a strange color by some very weird liquid, and went to the room to find a sheet to cover it all up, and waited until Sherlock finished changing his clothes, Dr. Watson also made the room look like a place for normal people to live in.He thought, how much will we have to pay the Hilton Hotel to get out when we check out? !

Just as the things were being packed, there was a knock on the door.Sherlock sat upright on the sofa, unwilling to move, so Watson had to get up and open the door.As soon as he opened the door, he saw a young blond lady standing outside the door, her face was pale, and she asked in a low voice, "Are you Mr. Holmes?"

"What? No," replied Dr. Watson.

"Oh." She seemed to want to say something, but she passed out as soon as she rolled her eyes, and fell into Dr. Watson's arms.Dr. Watson hugged her and turned back and shouted: "Sherlock, come here, this lady has passed out." As he spoke, he dragged her in from the door with half arms and half arms.

Seeing this, Sherlock stepped forward and closed the door, then lifted her from the legs, and carried her to the sofa with Watson.Dr. Watson felt for the pulse first, and said, "The pulse beat is normal, not like a faint caused by high blood pressure." He would continue to do further examinations.

Sherlock said: "No need, she looks more like she fainted from being tired and hungry."

"Ok?"

"Her eyes are black and blue, which means that she hasn't slept recently, and her clothes have not been changed for two days, which means that she has been on the road, and she is still driving. There is a little ketchup on the skirt, but the color has turned dark, which means that she Her last meal was a long time ago, probably before her husband's accident."

"Her husband?"

"Yes, she wears a wedding ring on her hand, but when she faced such an emergency and needed to come to me immediately, her husband didn't come with her. , if it wasn't for her husband's accident. But it's obviously not the former, her ring is relatively new and clean, and they shouldn't have been married for a long time, and it's not time to get bored, so the conclusion is that her husband has an accident."

At this time, the lady lying on the sofa had already woken up, and heard Sherlock's reasoning: "Oh, you must be Mr. Holmes, have you heard of me before?"

"No, you're awake." Sherlock nodded to her, and then continued without looking back: "Dr. Watson, please call the waiter, bring a glass of soda, and some food."

"Okay." Dr. Watson replied.

"You don't need to be so troublesome, sir, just give me a glass of whiskey." The lady was fully awake, and although she was still a little weak, she tried to sit up and said, "Sir, have you never heard of me before?" What you just said was right, my husband, my husband, he..." She began to sob.

"I didn't know anything about you before, except that you were an asthmatic, a devout Catholic, a housewife, and a former musician."

"God, sir, how do you know?" She stopped sobbing suddenly, looked up at Sherlock in surprise, and then looked down at herself.

"Your shortness of breath and faint murmurs indicate that you suffer from lung disease, usually asthma. There is a pendant around your neck that is shiny with oily silver Madonna, and this, a very typical spoon. Type fingertips. It's easy to confuse that with a typist's, but John, do you see that? She has a look on her face that typists don't have, and this lady used to be a musician, though not anymore. said Sherlock.

"Where did the housewife find out?" The lady seemed to relax a bit and said.

"Your clothes, a well-to-do professional woman wouldn't wear fashionable clothes on the street."

"Yes, sir, you are right." The lady calmed down and said, "Beyond that, I am the most unfortunate person in the whole of America at the moment."

At this time, the waiter had already delivered the food, and Dr. Watson said, "Please have something to eat first, ma'am, we have a whole day to listen to your case."

Although the lady tried her best to maintain her manners, she was really disgusting. After stuffing all the food on the table into her stomach like a storm, she said a little embarrassedly: "I'm so hungry, I almost have I haven't eaten for two days."

Sherlock said calmly: "Okay, ma'am, you can speak."

"Okay, my name is Annie, Annie Gold, and my husband, Douglas Gold, is a lawyer. He committed suicide four days ago at the Golden Gate Bridge."

"Suicide?! Boring," Sherlock said.

"No, sir, my husband should not have committed suicide at all."

"Ok?"

"He is a very successful criminal lawyer. It can be said that he is very successful. His annual income is more than 120 million US dollars, and he has no debt pressure. Our mortgage was just paid off last year. Why would he commit suicide? Sir, This is impossible."

"Mrs. Gold, I can understand your sadness. But what you said above is not the reason for your husband not to commit suicide. He may be mentally ill." Dr. Watson tried to comfort him.

"He has no mental illness. He is mentally healthy. I can show you his medical records. He has no history of mental illness." Mrs. Gold emphasized, and then took out a stack of medical records and handed them to Dr. Watson.

"So terminally ill?" Dr. Watson asked while flipping through the medical records. He had no history of mental illness or psychological counseling.

"He has the physique of an athlete, very fit."

"Indeed." Dr. Watson could not see any signs of serious illness in the medical records.

"How many people commit suicide on the Golden Gate Bridge every year? Even the official statistics are not available. Basically, there will be one person playing bungee jumping there every two weeks. Ma'am, he committed suicide, please go back." Sherlock said quickly .

When she heard this, she couldn't help crying again, and while crying, she said, "I went to the San Francisco Maritime Bureau, I went to the local police station, I went to everyone, and they all told me it was an easy job. Suicides are as common as other suicides on the Golden Gate Bridge. But sir, I can't believe that my husband, who is a carefree, strong character, must have been forced to jump, or pushed Jump down, yes, it must be. Sir, you are my last hope, please."

"I'm sorry." Sherlock said after seeing Watson's eyes.

"No, he gave me a last word before he died."

"Last words? Say!" Sherlock woke up and said.

"Night falls."

"what?"

"Night falls."

"What does that mean?" asked Dr. Watson.

Sherlock fell silent, did not respond, and leaned on the sofa thinking quietly with his fingers clasped together like a steeple.

The author has something to say:

The world-famous Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco, the beauty of this fog-locked golden bridge is not like the world, and this bridge of death leads to hell or heaven.