Sherlock Research SH

This is a great place.I stood on the top of the mountain overlooking the scene.

The low mountains are like huge living creatures, with blood vessels stretching under the grass.Skeletons protruding from the soil give some contradictions to the flat vision.The wind passing through it roared, stirring up the unique moisture of the forest.The sun hanging low in the east is soft and honest, under which time can pass by uniquely.

I went to Henry and got the sugar cubes under his strangely dull gaze.The little one was kicked into my breast pocket, and its weight cannot be ignored.On my way back to the hotel, I met John sitting on the stone steps with deep wrinkles between his brows.This is the whetstone of my thinking.Unlike the skull friend, his hesitant expression can stimulate my inspiration.

But the gaze cast from the hotel actually separated me from it, who was enjoying it.It was Lestrade's gaze.

"What the hell are you doing here?" someone yelled.

It could also be myself.Action is one step ahead of thought.Definitely an unusual formatting error for me.I don't allow myself to do things that are instinctive.Why?Because "instinct" is a dangerous factor, the lower the animals, the more they rely on "instinct" to live.

"It's Mycroft again, isn't it?" I took a deep breath and looked around.For the first time, I felt anxious about being right.

Dove Jones sat by the window.Wearing outdated pointed sunglasses, she buried her head and concentrated on reading a jerky book.It was said to be a jerky book, just because she frowned from time to time, picked up her fingertips and stroked a certain sentence on the book, and put her other hand on her cheek and gently rubbed her temple.

In front of her was a cup of coffee and a plate of nuts.I only took a sip of the coffee, and the mug was still clearly stained with lip marks.The plate was more than half empty, and the table in front of him was left with crumbs of nuts.She stuffed a few of them into her mouth mechanically every once in a while, not because she wanted to eat them, but because they happened to be right in front of her, as if she had fulfilled an obligation.On the other side of the table was her satchel.The bulging sac is not stuffed firmly, it is a loose tympanic sac.

"He also sent my guardian to watch over me."

Lestrade said nothing.He knows why I'm angry.

"Sherlock, is that..." John pointed to the window.I looked there again.

Distracted, she slides her dark glasses to her nose and winks at us with a smile.

"Well, actually, Greg, you've come just in time," John went on. "I might have a clue. A gracious and dignified detective from Scotland Yard, a couple of phone calls away."

John was unusually keen in some ways.Exactly what I'm not good at.As much as I hate to admit it, it makes our personalities more or less complementary.He was always the more gregarious one, with an undeniable quality about him.Even if all he took out of his pocket was an insignificant order slip, it immediately caught Lestrade's attention.

"Great." I appreciated perfunctorily.John needs a little approval from me, like a small dog that goes all the way to pick up a dead twig.

I walked over to the table while Lestrade pulled out his phone to contact his meager network. "France?" Seeing her raise her head in surprise, her throat quivered slightly.

"Yes, Finn went to France." She nodded, looking at me breathlessly. "Part of it is due to you. How did you find out this time?"

"Even the school locker is neatly organized, such a messy luggage is obviously not your style. And this book. You don't like to read it, you just carry it because it's the lightest book you can get. And so The reason for the rush to clean up must be that Mr. Jones just left early this morning. If he hadn’t been somewhere for a few days, you wouldn’t have come here like this. You shouldn’t have come here. It’s dangerous.” I pulled out my chair and sat down.

"Then why France?"

"It's simple. Based on the guidebooks your mother wrote, I don't think your brother would be interested in any of the English possessions, let alone his French girlfriend. Remember when you lent me his computer? There are things in your browsing history that you don't want to know."

She was leaning on the back of the chair, her left hand was covering her chest, and her right hand was resting on top of it, her thumb was being ground by tiger teeth. "Lestrade told me you deleted the solar system from your brain. But why do you remember such insignificant things?"

I've got to treat her differently, she's a thorny nuisance who looks for a loophole and then lashes out.

"Or, let me tell you something you don't know. Why did Finn go to France all of a sudden? Because someone threw his work uniform in an art gallery and everyone knew he had something to do with Hickman's huge loss." Some connection. The reporters blocked him at the door hoping to find out about his relationship with Mr. Holmes. He was almost fired." Seeing that I was silent, she took a sip of coffee and continued, "Then I wrote to his superiors An email. I’m pretty good at bullying with words. They agreed to give Finn a leave of absence as a way of avoiding the limelight, as long as he promises not to say anything to reporters.”

She took a breath, threw a few more nuts into her mouth, put her hands on the spine of the book, and pondered for a while. "Finn doesn't like this. Like hobbits who don't like the Shire."

"You seem to have a lot to say today."

"Traveling makes me feel strange." She shook her head lightly, lifted the cup to send coffee to her mouth, "The coffee here is really bad."

"It's dangerous."

She broke into a sudden grin, her face flapping under her black hair. "Are men always like this? Honestly, they say they are dangerous? But, if it's really that dangerous, why is that roommate still following you?"

"He's a veteran of the war in Afghanistan."

"Soldier? Does he have a gun?"

I answer with silence.

"Okay. But you should know that the worst people are nothing more than that. Served in the army, killed people, and now they are willing to use violence for your pleasure."

I stood up and suddenly realized that Mike called her "Miss Mania."Only then did the waiter serve me ice water.There are lemon peel and pulp floating in it.I stopped him: "Please give this lady another cup of coffee. She is obsessed with your coffee."

She doesn't like John.This is not necessarily a bad thing, at least it ensures that they will not have further contact.I didn't really mind that, though it came with the side effect of John getting hurt.He has always been smooth sailing in his interpersonal relationships.I just threw a sugar cube on the calm lake, and the ripples it caused spread outward in circles.

~~~~~

"Do you have something to confess to me?" John whispered while holding the coffee I made.

Lestrade was interrogating the poor hotel wretch, and the two were choking with sobs to cover their lies.Of course he didn't know this, so he seemed quite satisfied with his momentum.I just stood back and listened without interfering.It was an absolutely pointless cross-examination, and the reason I stayed was to make sure John drank that cup of coffee.

"Have you finished your drink?" I asked back.

"That Jones. She looks like a school trombone girl."

"Not many girls play the trombone these days," I corrected him.

"Very accurate." He pursed his lips, and put the empty coffee cup on the cabinet behind him, "That's what I want to express."

"yes."

"Your luck has always been so good? Or do you have some tricks?" His expression was ambiguous, "What are they looking for? The long face in the refrigerator?"

As I said, she was trouble with spikes.I'm not in the mood to unplug them right now.

"What do you want to do?" I sniffed and sighed.John stared at my face inexplicably, and suddenly turned his head with an epiphany.

"I'm as stealthy as a mouse."

She pulled up her hair, tucked the book under her arm, and shook her head dully.

"Rats seldom perfume themselves. Tell me, how did Lestrade bring you here?"

"Well, I thought of two stories on the way. If you can believe it. I'm a secret agent, so I can't find paper documents about me."

John raised his eyebrows and exhaled, and opened his mouth to ask, "What about the other share?"

"Lestrade said that if I could give him two hard-shell color brochures from the art gallery, he would book a two-month working meal at the Speedy Café. The commission will be all on my head." She turned to John. Almost condescending.

"Oh, that's it." John nodded slightly with raised eyebrows, and then showed an even more confused face, "So the brochure?"

"No value. Just a cover for distraction. The lady probably never thought she was the one being delivered." I stared at the back of Lestrade's head.To be honest, this trick was too clever for him.

The hotel's solo music suddenly stopped.If it wasn't for that, I wouldn't have noticed the turntable behind the bar.The stylus vibrates in the center of the turntable, making a strange hissing sound.The waiter came up to him, flipped the button, and roughly put the stylus back on the outer ring of the disk.The music flowed again.I think "flowing" is the most appropriate word here.

Just when I was thinking about the reason, she was staring intently, with great interest and amazing enthusiasm.She was surrounded by something, perhaps some kind of membrane that separated her from the world I knew.She belongs to another calm lake, sparkling and shining during the day, and swallowing the moon at night.

I turned away, keeping her in the shadows at an angle that wouldn't make John wonder. "Give me the phone."

Forgot to mention, I gave her my phone a few months ago.I told her it was in case I needed takeout.She's not on duty at the café every day, and I can't sneak off to school very often.But anyway, I seem to have unconsciously decided to see her more often.

I take the phone.Enter John's number in the empty address book, and delete Lestrade casually.

"Why would I need this?" She frowned.

"Because you will be with Henry Knight, Miss Jones. Please contact John if you have any questions. I never answer the phone."

~~~~~

Now that I think about it, I know I have to be more careful with my words. "Stay with Henry Knight" should be "Stay on the sofa honestly" or "Please contact me if you have any questions" instead of "Be sure not to get involved".When John's cell phone rang, I felt a real sense of melancholy.

"Hey Sherlock, I think this is your number." He stared at the phone. "Old number. I thought you lost your phone, so I got a new one. Didn't you?"

"Pick up the phone." I said.

"Hello, who is this?" He looked cautious, as if he was playing a game of deceit. "It's Louise Mortimer," he told me, turning his head. "Louise, what's wrong with you?"

He began to pace back and forth in the laboratory, answering every sentence to the mobile phone extremely briefly and quickly.This is not a good sign.He was a doctor and knew how to calm down with a calm tone.

And I'm a detective, good at connecting facts together.

Fact one, Henry's psychiatrist was emotionally unstable; Fact two, she used my cell phone to call John.

I immediately regretted the text appointment I just had with Bob Frankland.I put the contradictions together and disrupted all the plans that were more than enough.On balance, I finally called.

"Lestrade, go to the valley. Get your guns."

~~~~~

John watched silently as the thick night drifted into the car.The cool white light cast by the headlights freezes the darkness.We seem to be swallowed by the living creature, and we rampage endlessly in its stomach.

Until I got out of the car and stepped on the soft soil, I didn't give up this idea.

"Uh... Sherlock, I think it's necessary to remind you. The next time you drive at this speed at night, it's better to wear a seat belt—"

"Give me a reason not to transfer Lestrade to a neighborhood dispute."

He nods. "Well . . . if that's the case, he'll probably give you a couple of cat and bird cases. Is that Jones? Why is she here?"

My body was complaining about being tired, and she was blocking somewhere in my brain to keep me from falling asleep.

"Sherlock! He's gone into the forest!" She ran over, frowning remorsefully.

The rough grass here jolts my mind out and makes me angry and sad all at the same time. "I'm warning you one last time, don't follow. Stay in the car."

She opened her mouth, but hesitated to speak in frustration.John understood what I meant, patted her on the shoulder, and tucked her into the backseat.

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Cosmic OOC