My Detective Roommate [Sherlock Holmes]

Originally, Branston Jr. wanted to provide them with a coachman, but Sherlock politely declined.

When Adelia leaned against the fence to watch him harness the horse to the carriage, she felt a little funny for some reason: "Your movements are too proficient, I even suspect that you used to do this for a living."

"It's just a little observation habit, it's just a little simple skill." Although he acted naturally just now, there were only two of them at the moment, and he relaxed a little bit. Although he tried hard to recover her, he couldn't feel depressed. Lu was also a little absent-minded when speaking.

Adelia wanted to say something, but she didn't open her mouth, she just watched his clean movements silently.

"Adrian, are you waiting for me to help you into the car?" His tone was still a little weak.

Adelia was silent for a few seconds, then stretched out her hand: "Naturally, after all, I paid for it."

He was stunned, and couldn't help letting out a laugh: "For my only guest."

Naturally, Adelia didn't really need support, so she gave it up after a vain support, but after this episode, Sherlock's expression looked a little better.

The mood at this moment is different from when he came here. Adlia noticed that he did not go to the hotel, and the scenery on the roadside gradually became more desolate.

If anyone in front of her deviates from the original course without her advice, she may feel disgusted and tired, but she is emotionally stable now.

In fact, she is quite familiar with this road, and she used to come here a lot during the years when she and her aunt stayed here.

From here, you can reach the lake. Speaking of which, she actually met Smith here.Smith was ten years older than her before he came to this world. After coming to this world, he carried a drawing board on his back to collect scenery, and stopped to look at the scenery.She was able to masquerade as a man so successfully, the designer helped a lot.

She thought about something on the way, but when she got to the lake, her brain seemed to be as quiet as the lake.The calm and crystal blue lake clearly reflects the sky, with curling clouds and faint sunlight.

The breeze came slowly, and ripples appeared on the surface of the lake, and the ripples spread out in circles.

Adelia was blown by the wind so that her bones felt chilly. Although the case was apparently over, she didn't feel relieved.

"I thought you would be a little upset." Sherlock, who was a coachman without a tail, found a stone and sat down. "After all, it has delayed your return journey."

"I guess you won't be so fast, you are still waiting for your telegram," she didn't care, got out of the car by herself, sat on the grass next to him after thinking about it, "First of all, I am not a suitable person. object of conversation."

"How do you know that I need to unravel?" He deliberately asked, "Maybe with the beautiful scenery, I can let go of many knots."

"If you can put it down just by looking at the lake view, I'm afraid you won't be able to have those interesting talents."

The rock on which she leaned against him was a bit shorter than him.

Both looked at the same lake.

In fact, Sherlock really does not need any explanation, he is not the kind of person who will trap himself, his focus is always on "thinking" about the matter itself.

"You can also see the suspicious points of the so-called suicide scene?" His tone was very determined.

"The suicide note seems to be taken after writing, but there is no pen at hand, and the suicide note seems to be relatively old, and the motive for death is not valid." Adlia thought for a while, "I don't think there is anything wrong with the others. "

"That's right. The suicide note is obviously the paper from the manor, maybe the kind used by Branston. Obviously, it was cut out recently. You can see that the edges of the paper are very sharp, but the paper and writing are not. The old one," he said about his thought process, but he was not so happy, "there is the room, as a maid, Clauney's room must not be too messy, but you can notice that her mess is all on the surface .”

He paused for a while: "The clothes inside are neatly folded, but the top ones are folded in a different way. Obviously, they were put back by someone else. Besides, the ring is silver, and there are some oxidized spots on the chain. It seems that she cherishes the ring very much, but because this feeling is not visible, she hides the ring properly, hangs it around her neck, and hides it in her clothes."

"Based on what you said, it is not difficult to guess that the ring was given by the man you saw last night. They may have agreed to elope, but he may have come prepared to kill his lover." Apparently, this man was a bit smart. He found a specious passage from the previous letters and carefully intercepted it. And after she died, he took out all her bags and put them back in their original places. "

"That can explain leaving." Adlia nodded.

"Yes," he said softly, "it's just the facts written in front of my eyes, but Edward couldn't see it, or maybe he saw it. All of this is related to that casino. I have a strong intuition."

Adlia could hear some anxiety in Sherlock's tone, but he didn't seem to be powerless.This put her in a predicament. She obviously didn't want to interfere in such and such things, but she easily felt powerless because of it.

Yes, there is a connection, then what?

She doesn't want to intervene, nor can she intervene.If Sherlock chooses to continue the adventure alone, she will not hesitate to turn her head back to Baker Street and continue to spend the rest of the time holding her desk calendar.

An invisible hand pinches her heart, and someone whispers in her ear:

"No matter what era you are in, no matter what you become, you are still the one who can't do anything."

A feeling of emptiness seemed to drag her into the bottomless, beautiful and dead lake.

The person beside her didn't turn around to notice her emotion, he had pulled himself together and leaned on the stone leisurely: "Speaking of which, Adlia, maybe you are the only one who has seen the murderer, if you really It's his words."

The wind in early autumn was a bit chilly, and Adlia stretched out her stiff fingers.

She didn't reply, took out the pad that Sherlock couldn't understand a word, and scribbled a few strokes.At first she was confident, but later on, she felt dizzy again.

The memory of the early morning distorted in front of her eyes, she suddenly couldn't see the face clearly, was not sure about the scene at that time, and even suspected that it might be a dream.

She stared fixedly at the scribbled portrait, a little uncertain, but another voice told her that maybe it was like this.

Before she could repent, she tore it off and handed it out.

Sherlock didn't react, and only glanced sideways, but when he realized that he was about to take it away, a gust of wind suddenly blew over.

She let go of her hand suddenly, Sherlock wanted to reach out to grab it but was half a beat too late. He stood up and trotted a few steps, but that didn't help—the paper just fluttered and fell into the lake in front of their eyes. inside.

"Ah... what a pity." Sherlock was a little helpless, but he also saw the exaggerated forehead and jaw in the portrait.

Then he noticed her roommate wasn't responding.

When he turned his head, his roommate was still leaning against the stone, his eyes were empty, as if he was looking at the little portrait that was floating away, but he seemed to be out of focus.

She seemed to be sitting like that, even in a somewhat relaxed posture.But in the blink of an eye, she seemed to disappear in place.He couldn't tell what emotion she was feeling at the moment, maybe it was sadness and powerlessness, or maybe it was nothing at all.

Although he has been with her for several months and has gotten to know each other a little bit, and he thinks he has broken her sense of distance, but at this moment, he suddenly realizes that he still doesn't know anything about her.

Her past was right in front of his eyes, but he still found nothing.Her stories, her notes, her calendar, her friends.

"Adrian?" He ignored the portrait that floated away, and instinctively wanted to call his friend back to reality.

The author says:

The case will be later, and we will clarify it together when Mai Ge's letter arrives.

虽然空了三年没写，但也没料到确实越写成绩越差了，抱头痛哭。不过看到那么多评论还是很开心。本来想换个笔名的但是看到好多熟悉名字又觉得有些舍不得，暂时不换啦。感谢在2021-11-0223:52:39~2021-11-0520:49:07期间为我投出霸王票或灌溉营养液的小天使哦~

Thanks to the little angels who threw the landmines: HAT, Shortbread, (·v·), Lin Nansheng, 1 cat girl;

Thanks to the little angels of the irrigation nutrient solution: 9 bottles of ink flute; 5 bottles of tilapia e; 2 bottles of rain in late autumn;

Thank you very much for your support, I will continue to work hard! ?