Bad days as neighbors with Sherlock Holmes

Uncle Ben walked into Elena a little worried, and he also heard this sentence.

He had followed Yvette for more than a while, so he was even more impressed with the "Moriarty" she almost avoided talking about.

He was a little acutely concerned about the man's sudden words.

After all, Moriarty does everything with profound meaning, and he never does useless things.

"What are you thinking, Elena?" Uncle Ben called softly.

He reached out, tried to touch Elena, but was interrupted by her next move.

Elena took out the notebook in the satchel, took out the pen, and began to draw.

"I'm thinking about the structure and layout of this secret passage," she said without being affected at all, "it feels very interesting, and I have a aftertaste."

"The layout of this secret passage is average," Eric said, "I don't think it has any reference value."

He looked at the rapidly restored structure diagram and entrance schematic diagram drawn by Elena, and pointed to two places, "Look, this design doesn't have any aesthetic feeling, and I don't even think it can be regarded as a good idea."

Seeing that Elena was still drawing stubbornly, Eric grabbed the pen, turned another page, and started drawing.

"This is a secret passage I designed in Paris," he explained while drawing, "you can use this structure, but I think the person who designed this passage must have no brains, and he doesn't know how to go further."

After finishing drawing and throwing the notebook to Elena, Eric breathed a sigh of relief, "Look for yourself. Don't be led astray by those people."

After he finished speaking, he realized in a daze that he had actually used a rare peaceful tone.

"But I think this is enough." Elena simply threw away her image and sat down cross-legged, "The cost of your plan is too expensive. If it were me, the use of this idea would be more practical. "

Her skirt was almost bulging over the pannier due to her movements, and from a distance it looked like an orange cut in half and placed upside down.

"But Elena, are we not short of money?" Uncle Ben coughed and reminded.

"No, why am I doing this in my own home?" Elena frowned, "I'm talking about accepting a commission. I'm thinking about this question. If someone invites me to design a secret room like the escape room, maybe I will use this kind of thinking..."

She sighed, "I really want to know who designed this, it's very simple, not too wasteful, clean and neat."

"But I think it can be better," Eric said in a somewhat bewildered mood.

"Yes, yes, it can be better," Elena put the notebook back in her bag, "I think it's okay too."

She supported the ground and stood up, but because of the orthostatic hypotension after sitting for a long time, she was a little weak and dizzy, and she could hardly see what was in front of her eyes.

Elena subconsciously grabbed the arm of the person next to her.

These few seconds were really difficult for her, her eyes were completely dark, and she could hardly find a second way except to hold on to the things in her hand.

After I slowed down a little and regained my normal vision, I let go of the arm I held with relief.

She thanked her in a low voice, only to realize that the one standing beside her with concerned eyes was Sherlock who came in a hurry.

Watson gave her a worried look.

"Are you okay, Miss Molson?" He asked kindly, "I feel like you fainted just now?"

"It should be a little dizzy," Elena replied, "but it's okay now."

She exhaled, "You actually found this place."

"Sherlock followed the trail all the way," Watson replied, and then looked at Eric, "this is—"

Sherlock glanced sharply at Eric again.

"I stayed in the opera house for a while, and my life was good, but I had a bad energy when I was a child, and I lived in Paris for a long time, and I have outstanding talents in painting and art," he said very fast, "I remember you, I met you once, the 'Phantom' of the Paris Opera House whose whereabouts are uncertain."

Eric snorted coldly.

"I know you too," he said critically. "You're thinner than I thought, Mr. Consulting Detective."

"That's a real disappointment to you," said Sherlock.

He took the lamp from Elena's hand, "Let's go, I'm very curious about what you have experienced."

Elena nodded and followed his pace.

"Actually, I probably didn't pay much attention," she confessed. "I think Moriarty—the man behind it—seems weird."

"Why do you say that?" Sherlock looked at her.

"He didn't seem to have any urgent thoughts," Elena paused, "he came to show his identity first, then told me a few words about what my mother left behind, and finally started to satirize my mother's poor work .He doesn't look like that, uh…"

She hesitated for a while, but decided to be more direct, "Not too much like a logical person."

"But he calls himself a 'consulting criminal,'" Eric said dismissively. "I don't even know why he gave himself such a nickname. Maybe it's for you, huh?"

He looked at Sherlock somewhat provocatively.

"He claims to be consulting criminals, which is something that has only happened in the past few years," Uncle Ben interjected. "When I was investigating this, I was blocked a lot because of his name."

Sherlock nodded thoughtfully.

"Wait, Elena had to interrupt them, "What are you talking about? "

She looked at Watson and found that he didn't understand, and she immediately felt relieved.

"He's saying he's a bad guy," Uncle Ben explained simply, "you just stop playing with him."

His explanation seemed to be perfunctory for a child.

Elena looked at several people suspiciously, and found that besides Dr. Watson, several people chatted about these topics again.

She sighed, so she walked to the back spontaneously, and grabbed Dr. Watson, who also didn't understand much.

"The house I designed for Miss Darcy is about to start construction," Elena randomly picked up a topic, "I want to ask for your opinion."

Let those few people discuss some conspiracies and tricks, she doesn't want to hear it at all.

But looking at the year, the time when this secret passage was built should be around a few years away.

I don't know if it's someone from some uncle's subordinates, but if so, she's actually a little moved.

If only I could dig it out...

Elena sighed indistinctly, the construction office is still short of people.

the other side.

Moriarty flashed into the secret passage before exhaling.

For so many years, he didn't exercise as much as today.

As the secret passage was quickly closed, he deliberately made a fool of himself.

False and true can deceive people around.

Thinking of this, Moriarty stood up slowly while leaning on the wall.

It's time for him to go back. It seems that someone is still looking for him today.

The dark secret passage was empty, and the sound of dripping water could be heard from time to time.

Moriarty hummed nervously.

He didn't light a match either, he didn't need a match, even though the whole box of matches with exquisite illustrations was staying in his left trouser pocket, jabbing him with its sharp edges and corners from time to time.

After all, what could be more terrifying than himself?

Few people even know about this secret passage.

he just needs to turn the corner

Moriarty took an easy step to the side.

Then almost crashed into Earl Molson's arms.

Moriarty: ?

No, why do these people walk without sound? ?

The count yelled and took three steps back.

He nimbly hid behind Lestrade and shouted, "Who are you?"

Mycroft also raised his eyebrows in surprise.

He just knew there was a shortcut here, but he didn't expect to bump into someone.

Lestrade also subconsciously froze for a moment, but his instinct as a police detective still made him try to go forward and arrest him.

But obviously, it didn't work.

Moriarty almost ran away, and soon disappeared.

After getting rid of the group of people, he seized the time to catch his breath.

He still knew the count, and the people around him were all his acquaintances.

How can you be so unlucky?

But luckily escaped.

As expected of him.

Moriarty straightened his back again, and walked straight forward, but his foot slipped unexpectedly and almost fell down.

Before he fell, he supported the ground with his hands in time, and his quick reaction saved him from a disaster of falling into the muddy water.

But after Moriarty stood up tentatively, he found that his ankle seemed to be sprained.

He really couldn't hold back, and took out a match, intending to see what the culprit was.

It was only after the match lighted up that Moriarty realized that there were a lot of candies wrapped in delicate shells rolling down in front of him.

Round and slippery, one was about the size of a coin, and the nearest one had his footprints on it.

Sure enough, it was the sugar that made him slip.

Moriarty had no choice but to limp and walk forward leaning on the wall, cursing in his heart the person who threw things everywhere.

On the other hand, Lestrade, who let the man go, was a little frustrated.

The count patted him on the shoulder vigorously, almost causing Lestrade to stagger.

But the Count didn't notice it at all.

"Don't be sad, Inspector Lestrade," he said to the Inspector who often received him, "have a candy, I don't think other Inspectors are necessarily as good as you." outstanding."

"No, I just feel guilty," Lestrade sighed. "It's my responsibility. I didn't do it right."

"Then eat some candy to ease your mood before continuing to feel guilty," the earl said, "Anyway, the person has disappeared, and this place looks very complicated, and you may not be able to catch up with him."

"You can't find anyone either?" Lestrade smiled wryly, "I thought you, as an architect, would understand a little bit..."

The count waved his hand.

"I saw the floor plan of this place a few days ago," he said, "I don't have much contact with the secret passages here, and I'm not particularly familiar with them."

The earl took advantage of the situation and took out his pocket, but found that he didn't find a single candy.

He sighed, "Where's my candy?"

Turning over the clothes, not only was there no sugar, but there was a hole in the good clothes.

It seems a bit nondescript.

The count frowned, "Is there a mouse here?"

He mumbled a few times before saying apologetically, "I'm sorry, Inspector Lestrade. I guess something scratched my clothes."

Lestrade waved his hand quickly, expressing that he didn't care.

On the other hand, Mycroft nodded with a smile on his face, and quietly hid his right hand behind his back.

The author has something to say: I have been a little busy these two days, and then my mood is a little low, the code word is a little stuck, the update is a little late QAQ hug everyone!

Now I'm a hero again!

Thanks to Jula's missing, Miao Ling, and Xianyu for their nutrient solution! !

dear! mua