My Detective Roommate [Sherlock Holmes]

There is no need for a coachman to follow her when she goes out this time. Adlia feels a little sorry for her money, and she hasn't asked others to help drive the carriage.

"Torres is willing to lend us the hotel's horses. Let's ride there, so it's faster." Sherlock was full of enthusiasm. "The scenery here is good, and it's not bad to want to ride horses."

This time Adelia felt a little frustrated: "I don't know how to ride a horse."

Sherlock raised his eyebrows, and stopped walking outside: "It's not difficult, just try it, and it will be fine when you sit on it."

Thinking of the worn skin on the inner thighs when I was riding a horse before, it would be inconvenient to change the dressing here if I really rode a horse.Adelia sighed: "Mainly because I don't want to ride a horse,"

"To what extent?" He pretended to be listening.

Adlia found a reason without distraction: "Why don't I study train engines now?"

This time Sherlock couldn't help laughing out loud: "I can't see that you are interested in steam power."

"No," Adelia vetoed calmly, "steam powered date pills"

This time it was Sherlock who was confused.

"Forget it, I'll call the driver." She turned around and went to the hotel again, planning to save money and save trouble.

But her wrist was pulled: "Well, maybe you can trust me, I'm not bad at driving."

When she came to Branston Manor again this time, Adlia's mood changed, and she couldn't tell whether it was good or bad.She jumped off the carriage and lamented that Sherlock's technique was really good.

Sherlock was parking the horse, and deliberately imitated the coachman's tone and said: "One shilling for the favor."

Adelia couldn't help laughing out loud: "You can really open your mouth like a lion."

She touched her pocket, took out the coin with the smallest denomination from a handful of cash, and threw it at the man: "Here you are, remember to say more flattering words next time."

Sherlock didn't expect that she would really take out the money, but he still quickly grabbed the coin she threw over and opened it. He was a little dumbfounded, and then he held back his smile and pretended to sigh: "It's not a good start today, I met a stingy customer."

Saying so, he put the coin into his breast pocket, and then he walked quickly to her side, arching his arms.

Perhaps because she was in a good mood, Adelia gently put her hand on it.

While waiting for Edward to open the door, the vicious dog was still barking fiercely, and Adlia seemed to be a little more vicious than last time.Some strange feelings arose in her.

Before Adlia ran out of patience, Edward came to open the door with a livid face.

"I'm very sorry, gentlemen," he said in a bad tone, "that Clowney is dead."

The accident caught them off guard.

Sherlock stood in place like a sculpture for a long time, whispering silently: "I should have thought of it earlier."

His voice suddenly raised: "Damn, I should have thought of it earlier."

His jaw tensed, and it wasn't hard to judge his anger.

Adelia still didn't understand many details, so she could only ask Edward to lead them to the scene of the crime.

The scene this time was simpler than last time, and three people could not even stand in the small maid room.Sherlock exhaled heavily, and walked in first.

Clowney was not wearing a maid's outfit, but her own private dress, a beautiful pale green dress.She was still lying on the table, with a happy smile on her face, but there was a suicide note on her table.

[I want to leave, leave here completely.I hate Mr. Branston for only forgetting his wife a year after her death and taking a bride - I can't call that woman a lady.Are all men in the world like this? ]

Sherlock picked up the cup with a serious face, and took a closer look at the smell in Clowney's mouth and nose.

"There is no doubt that it is still cyanide."

His complexion was very ugly, but he didn't stop his exploration and thinking.

He first picked up the simple suicide note: "Is this Clowney's handwriting?"

"Without a doubt," Edward replied.

He looked at the paper carefully: "This is the document-like paper in Mr. Branston's room. It comes from a printing factory in the west."

The edges of the paper were clean, but Sherlock could tell both sides had been trimmed, and he snorted again, examining her hands separately.She doesn't seem to have any accessories other than earrings, etc.—

He undid the first button of the dead man's high-necked skirt.

A necklace with rings hanging from it.

He untied the necklace, observed it carefully, and after he lost interest, Adelia silently reached out to take it.

Immediately afterwards, he turned around and looked around in the small room, and directly opened the drawer of the bedside table.There used to be a small lock here, but it was opened now, and there were some coins and jewelry in it, which was very messy.The small suitcase is stuffed to the brim, and as soon as it is opened, it is filled with messy, seasonal clothes.

Sherlock took it out impatiently, looked at it casually, and then flipped through it - the summer clothes underneath were neatly arranged.

"Adrian," his voice was very soft, but he suppressed unspeakable emotions, "I am very angry, he is provoking me."

"Him?" Edward captured the key words sensitively, but obviously, neither of them planned to answer him.

After an unknown amount of time, Sherlock suddenly laughed sarcastically: "No, what's the problem? It seems very natural. She misses her old master and feels that life is hopeless. Don't you think so, Edward?"

He looked at the butler suspiciously.

"I think you already know the truth," Sherlock put his hand on Adrea's shoulder, and took the stick back again. "I'm afraid my friend and I have nothing to help you, Edward. I wish you all the best."

"What do you mean?" Edward's displeased face was even more annoyed.

Sherlock put away his sarcasm, the expression on his face became strangely calm, and his tone also turned into a different kind of lightness: "I have absolutely no other meaning, sir, but you also guessed the answer, right? This maid is probably The one who brought the water into Mr. Branston's room last, eh?"

"You're right."

"Then the fact is very simple. The maid poisoned poor Mr. Branston with cyanide. She didn't want people to find out that she had poisoned him, so Mao Mao took off his clothes and dragged him to the bathroom. Here, faked a sudden death while taking a shower in the bathroom."

"Hunter then entered Branston's room, perhaps thinking Mr. Branston had fallen asleep in the bathtub, stabbed him to death with his dagger, and hastily feigned suicide, Just took the money and ran away."

He spoke quickly, and his eyes were fixed on Edward's face in the process.Adlia could realize this person's emotions mainly because he pinched her shoulder too hard—she even suspected that her shoulder blades were about to be crushed by this person.

She reached out and patted his hand helplessly, and he just relaxed a little bit.

Edward's throat rolled up and down, as if he was struggling, he did not avoid Sherlock's eyes, and after a few seconds, he confirmed in a low voice: "Yes, that's exactly the truth."

He didn't ask why Hunter entered Branston's room at all, nor did he mention why the maid killed herself.

Sherlock said "Ha!", unable to tell whether it was ridicule or celebration for solving the puzzle.

"Then, I will leave with my friends, and maybe the poor lady can get some comfort—" His hand led her out, but halfway through, he finally turned his head unwillingly, "I will confirm again Now, Mr. Branston's property should not include casinos, right?"

There was a moment of silence in the atmosphere.

Edward's voice was difficult: "Of course not, sir, we never set foot."

Sherlock smiled slightly, and it was difficult for Adlia to read the meaning. He summed up in a chant: "Then, that's the truth."

As soon as they reached the door, a young man was standing at the corner of the stairs. He looked very gentle and polite, and Mrs. Branston's temperament could still be seen on his face.

"I heard it all," he spoke with a calmness that didn't suit his age, "Sir, may I ask who you are?"

"Sherlock Holmes," Sherlock said without reaching out or approaching, looking a little impolite, "Little Mr. Branston."

Fortunately, the young gentleman didn't mind, he walked over and offered his hand.

However, Sherlock looked at Adlia.

Adelia was confused, Branston Jr. froze, and turned to Adelia.Adelia could only reach out and shake his hand to express friendship.

After shaking hands, he still looked at Sherlock: "I promise you that Branston Manor has nothing to do with gambling|gambling—and I will hand over Hunter to Scotland Yard."

Adelia suddenly realized that the young master was going to give up some rights of the manor owner in the village, and she was a little surprised.

Sherlock glanced at the young master with a strange look: "That is indeed a wise decision."

He seemed to have remembered something, suddenly changed his attitude, and offered a hand of friendship: "It's a pleasure to meet you, I'm a detective, please consult the detective."

Now, the confused ones turned into two people.

It is rare for two strangers to look at each other emotionally at this moment, but Branston Jr. quickly reacted, stretched out his hand to hold his hand, and shook it as soon as possible. Sherlock quickly drew his hand and reached Adelaide. Lia's arm.

Adelia: ? ?Is this man finished?Are you some teenage girl who needs to go to the bathroom hand in hand?

"Now that the ending has been decided, I think my friends and I can enjoy the beautiful scenery of the countryside," his tone seemed to jump up. "It's been almost ten days, and I haven't had time to go sightseeing."

"I can have a servant show you around, the country air is always fresh."

"No, no need," Sherlock looked at his friend, "I think Adrian is enough."

The author says:

I'm coming

It’s been a long time since I wrote this article. It took a lot of confusion to produce this article, and then I suddenly found out that the clip time was wrong orz yesterday. I wanted to press the update to see if I could improve the ranking. I thought about it and forgot , or update normally...

The trivial things in life and work are so troublesome to pile up. Can't the year-end summary say that I wrote [-] words of Lao Fu this year (.

Boss: I asked you to write articles to engage in academics. Are you engaging in fandom (no)?