My Detective Roommate [Sherlock Holmes]

Adelia wasn't sure if she was conscious, but she thought she was acting as usual, except that the soles of her feet were a little weak.

However, this is not the case in the eyes of detectives.

His voice seemed to come from far away: "Adrian, you are sick."

"I'm fine," she repeated stubbornly, "do you have an idea?"

Sherlock seemed to sigh a long time: "You should go to rest, the rest I can—"

"Professor Parker was strangled to death." She tilted her head, and slowly stretched out her hand to draw on her fair neck, as if there should also be a scar there. "The scar on the neck of the corpse is very low, and the thyroid cartilage — That is, the position of the Adam's apple is broken, and hanging to death is definitely not in this position."

She forgot that she didn't have an Adam's apple.

"I know, it's time for you to rest." He looked at her with concern.

"And the marks on the neck are not exactly the same as the direction of the hanging." She still articulated clearly, and the order of the sentences was completely normal, as if nothing happened, but she knew that her voice was a little floating, "not to mention there are still Uncovered, nylon cord marks."

"You're right." Sherlock laughed, and wanted to say something more - but suddenly he found a tear in the corner of his roommate's eye.

Very lightly and quickly, as if in the blink of an eye, a round teardrop fell down.

"I can't do anything if I don't want to," her voice trembled, perhaps not knowing. "I can't do anything—I was and I'm a coward."

Sherlock obviously didn't react, he didn't care much, and put the back of his hand against her forehead, which seemed to be warmer than his own.As for the person who would usually avoid it, it can be said that he stood there obediently, or even foolishly, letting him move. His green eyes were not as calm as before, but looked at him innocently and puzzled. .He pressed his other hand to his forehead uncertainly, only then was he sure that the other person had a fever.

"You have a fever, Adrian, you need to rest," he lowered his head and looked back seriously at the other party, "Leave the rest to me."

"I'm fine." She stood there, motionless, but the moisture between her eyelashes still revealed her fragility.

Sherlock knew that simple persuasion was useless to his stubborn friend, he put his hands on her shoulders, and pushed her into the house somewhat forcefully: "Adrian, please trust me, I will bring the truth to you." Back to Baker Street."

Under the morning light, his eyes were a strange and deep gray-green, but the firmness in them never changed.Adelia followed his footsteps into the room with some stupidity, her legs gave way and almost fell - Sherlock's big hand clamped her arm in time to prevent her from falling.

Sherlock half helped her to sit on the bed, but she was still sitting there, wearing a thin nightgown.

After hesitating for a moment, Sherlock made a choice: "I think you should go to the doctor, if you change your clothes—"

"No, I'm a doctor," she said dryly, "Yes, I have a fever."

Her eyes straightened as if she had fallen into a dream, and the corners of her mouth drooped, like a wronged child. Compared to Sherlock, she was more like the person who hadn't slept all night.She lifted the quilt and buried herself in it.

It was the first time Sherlock had heard her say she was a doctor, but he didn't think it meant anything good at the moment.

He stared at her face: "then tell me, what should I do?"

Adlia's voice was a bit vague, like a plant in a glass room: "There is no way, fever, cold, or other diseases, there is no better way in this age."

Naturally, Sherlock could not accept this answer: "I'll call a doctor for you."

"No need, take out your almighty brandy," she sank into a depressed spirit, "You can wipe your forehead with alcohol, you can put it on my bedside, and I will cool down by myself."

Sherlock, who was about to go out, came back and sat by her bed, looking down.

This was the first time he entered Adrian's room, but he didn't have the time to analyze the traces left by Adrian, but it was the first time he noticed that the other party was so fragile and thin that an ordinary quilt seemed to be able to Overwhelmed him whole, he was engulfed in a swamp, caught in some unseen vortex.

He didn't know if the vulnerability at this moment was a signal for him to call for help.

Through the quilt, he found the position of her hand, covered it gently, and after a few seconds, he held it firmly.

"I can't do anything, can I?" Her voice was low and small, wandering for an answer.

"You've done a lot, Adrian, I'll do the rest... You just need to get better soon, and I'll bring you the ending."

He paused for a moment, not sure if his vulnerable roommate had been reassured, when he suddenly noticed the small bottle beside Adrian's bed, which looked like a medicine bottle.

Following Sherlock's line of sight, Adlia also noticed the medicine bottle—she didn't take it last night, and she didn't want to use medicine to escape her dreams.

"Put it in the drawer for me, and don't let my aunt see it," she said with a hoarse voice, finally admitting that she was powerless at the moment. "Hurry up and find the clues you are considering, Holmes, I have no problem."

Sherlock hesitated, and opened the drawer a small gap, just enough to fit the vial.He restrained his gaze enough to avoid offending his feeble roommate.Then he found that the window was not closed tightly, so he went to close the window tightly.When he looked back, Adrian had already closed his eyes, but there still seemed to be tears.

He stood by the window, watching him silently.

Maybe he held his breath, maybe he didn't.He walked to his bed again, leaned over, and wiped away the tears with his thumb.

"Everything will pass." He chanted softly.

Then he straightened up and left Adlia's room in a few steps.Adelia didn't want to open her eyes, and she didn't want to admit the fact that she was crying, but the residual warmth from her fingers was still on her face, making it a little itchy.She finally remembered something at a certain moment, and remembered the silhouette from last night.

With such a unique sitting posture, holding a pipe, such sharp eyes and sharp thinking, she doesn't even know who this person is?

Her thoughts were as cloudy as mud, and she could only hear her heavy breathing.A few minutes later, Mrs. Hudson came upstairs and brought cold water until a cold towel was pressed against her forehead.

She reached out from under the covers and took hold of Mrs. Hudson's hand.

"Auntie, I'm a little—I'm a little uncomfortable." She whispered, and the tears she had suppressed just now rolled down under the excuse of illness.

She is reluctant to say so many bad things to her family, but she really has no way to hide her emotions.

Just like when she was a child, this warm old Scottish lady hugged her gently across the blanket, stroking her back like a mother.

"Just wake up, Adelia, it's no big deal."

Still worried about his roommate, Sherlock knew that the case at hand was what mattered most.As for his roommate's puzzle, he still has a long way to go.

He returned to Godolphin Street again, and Inspector Brad was there early.

Detective Brad's expression was obviously not very good: "Yes, sir, you are right, he did not commit suicide."

But Sherlock did not show a proud expression: "There are too many hints on the side: there are no footprints on the chair, the maid did not hear the sound of the chair being overturned, and the marks on the neck of the deceased—Adrian told me that suicide The constriction should be higher, this position is obviously strangled to death by others."

"Mr. Hudson didn't come?" Brad noticed that Sherlock was alone today, and was a little surprised.

Sherlock nodded, he was too lazy to explain to him, and only focused on the case: "If someone strangled him to death, then the murderer must be a strong man who can quickly kill people in such a way from behind, and because his traces are Up there, it can be judged that he either strangled the professor while he was sitting, or was taller than the professor to do it. Ah - I forgot to mention, it was obviously a deliberate murder, he covered the nylon rope Mark of."

Brad rubbed the space between his brows wearily: "The most difficult thing is this secret room. Damn it, whoever really kills people will create a secret room."

Chamber of Secrets—

Sherlock's brain is running fast, how should the structure of the whole room create a secret room?

How did the murderer get in and get out?Did the victim see him?

A vague idea gradually emerged in his mind, but he couldn't be sure.

"Can I walk around the clinic?"

Inspector Brad made a concession: "The same sentence, I agree with all your on-site investigations. In exchange, you must inform me of your results in time, and Scotland Yard will complete the arrest of criminals."

Sherlock raised the corner of his lips, but he knew why Adlia didn't like this person so much.He didn't mind these false names, so he agreed without hesitation.

Brad nodded and stepped aside.

Even though there was a murder, the Parker clinic still started working the next day, but the only open consultation rooms were the special consultation room and Professor Ryan's consultation room.

"Has any of your agents lost their badge?" he asked wistfully.

"Probably not, sir." Brad didn't understand why he asked such a question.

Sherlock didn't say anything, and walked into the clinic like a patient visiting the clinic.There is a gentleman who manages order to explain to the patient that Professor Parker is not in the clinic, and a maid guides the patient to Mr. Lane's consulting room.Yesterday, Susan seemed to cheer up and answer the patient's questions.

The door of the special consultation room was not closed. The patient stood at the door and waited consciously. Sherlock took a look from the door. Although he was still a little jerky, Mr. Wellington already had the demeanor of a doctor.

Mr. Lane's consulting room needs the maid's guidance to enter. Sherlock waited at the door for a while, and could indeed hear the voices talking inside the door, but it was not very clear.

Going further in, it was sealed off by Scotland Yard, and the guards outside were Feynman inspectors.Perhaps because of what Detective Brad said, Feynman did not stop Sherlock from entering.

When Sherlock walked to the door of Professor Parker's consulting room, he suddenly turned around: "Ah, Feynman's inspection—I think you seem to be required to wear police badges?"

Feynman touched his chest subconsciously: "Ah, maybe I forgot to wear it."

Sherlock raised his eyebrows: "Really?"

The author says:

I'm a little nervous

（又有点想请假，我努力努力再肝）感谢在2021-11-2321:24:49~2021-11-2423:07:29期间为我投出霸王票或灌溉营养液的小天使哦~

Thanks to the little angel who threw the mine: 1 Ravenclaw Mary;

Thanks to the little angel who irrigates the nutrient solution: Oh, it really is. . . 40 bottles; 10 bottles of Tilapia e; 1 bottle of Muyu;

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