My Detective Roommate [Sherlock Holmes]

When encountering difficulties, Sherlock's energy is endless.After putting Adelia down, he went to the living room non-stop, and when Adelia recovered and decided to take another look, he had already searched for a while.

The grim-faced George and his calm form a contrasting picture.

After reconfirming that George was indeed dead, Adlia retreated silently to the door, almost tripping over the clothes that Sherlock had thrown on the floor as soon as she entered the room.At this inappropriate moment, she felt helpless and wanted to laugh. She picked up the clothes and hat and held them in her hands. She leaned against the door and observed Sherlock's actions.

Mr. Detective seems to have a strange way of walking, no matter the movement or the path, he seems to follow some kind of trace, walked to the fireplace, and walked to the window, carefully inspecting the window When the violence broke into the trace, the rain outside the window started.

"Damn." He closed the windows one by one to prevent the rain from affecting the scene.

Immediately, he stepped back lightly, and got behind George, completely unafraid that George was dead, his head was almost touching George's head, as if he was observing something from George's perspective, and then walked to the position where Owen was at that time, and observed the same thing some.

Adlia watched him take the empty seat at the table.

It is not difficult to judge that if Mr. Mortimer came today, he should be sitting in that position, with his back to the window.

"Do you think they were scared to death?" Adlia's voice probably returned to normal.

"I ought to ask you that question, Doctor," replied Sherlock impatiently. "You have the answer."

"I do not have."

"You have!" he shouted.

Adelia felt dizzy and uncomfortable: "Maybe, but this is beyond the scope of my knowledge."

"There is a specialization in art, maybe you should take care of the fainted brother and sister," his tone was blunt, and he might not be in the mood to take care of anyone's emotions during the brainstorming. "Use your strengths, Adrian."

Adelia tilted her head, looked at it for a while, and felt that the room was really stuffy after the windows were closed, so she pinched the bridge of her nose.

Ah yes, he was right.

But just as she turned and went out, she suddenly realized something.

"Holmes, do you feel a little dizzy?"

Holding a magnifying glass, Sherlock lay on the ground and didn't know what he was looking at: "No, I'm full of energy."

Adlia sniffed to make sure she didn't smell any strange smells, and then looked at the detective next to the fireplace, denying her guess.

Maybe at this point, she is a little sleepy.

The police here rarely have jobs, not even theft, and more work is close to mediating conflicts, which naturally seems a bit unfamiliar in handling cases.

After they came, they made some records with Adlia and Sherlock, conducted a routine questioning of Mrs. Potter, and then asserted that everything was caused by the devil. As long as Ms. Brenda and Owen woke up, everything would be solved .

Sherlock turned his head away so that the officer would not see his dismissive expression.

The only consolation for Sherlock was that at least they knew they were going to call here Mortimer, who had escaped.

Adelia took care of the two Tregennis for a whole night, and Brenda had a fever at night. Adelia, who had no more treatment options, could only choose to cool down physically and tried to feed her some water.She had a terrible headache the next morning, but she sat patiently with Sherlock as she listened to Mortimer's notes.

"I was, yes, I had some trouble with them," said Mortimer, sitting crookedly on the sofa with his head bowed, "I can't imagine what happened. Fortunately, I escaped." , but I don't seem to have escaped."

His face was always turned towards the corner, half hidden in the darkness, and his head was half bowed sadly.

"They were in good physical and mental condition at the time, we were still playing cards, and even had some quarrels," he briefly looked up at the police and Sherlock, who was sitting next to him, " But those are trivial things, I said I'd better go back to the pastor's house, after all, I was worried that the pastor would feel a bit lonely spending the festival alone."

He sighed, turned his face to one side, and said in a distressed tone: "I just can't think about what they saw, why they have such frightened expressions... I think they seem to be frightened."

"I'm sorry," said the policeman in an official tone.

Sherlock locked the poor man with his gray eyes, and stretched the five fingers of his left hand: "Think about it, do you think you saw something? Is there something that would frighten them?"

Although Adlia was a little absent-minded, she always felt that Sherlock's words were wrong.

"I'm not sure if it's related, but that was the first thing I thought of when the police officer told me they died of panic." He rubbed his hands together uneasily, his eyes averted.

Sherlock smiled almost kindly and encouraged him to speak up.

Seeing that the police officer next to him was about to overflow with anger—he didn't like Sherlock stealing the limelight—Adelia silently poured a cup of hot tea for the police officer.

"I'm not sure what it was. I was in the seat with my back to the window," he hesitated. "Me and George sat across from each other. We were on one side of the game."

He swallowed.

"I saw him suddenly look over my shoulder and look behind me. I'm not sure if he was looking out the window, but I think it should be," his eyes were a little unsteady, "When I looked back, I saw nothing except the road. I don’t know why, but I always feel that the cold wind behind me makes me uneasy, and I even feel that there is a shadow behind me—this is one of the reasons why I left early.”

Sherlock tapped his chin lightly with his index finger, showing interest in his eyes.

"Maybe that's the sign of the devil," the policeman said more sympathetically, "maybe you're lucky too."

Sherlock's expression was as ugly as if he had eaten expired bread, and he even glanced at the stupid policeman with displeasure, but out of politeness—and also to avoid being kicked out, He tried hard to resist the urge to spray the venom, and decided to continue asking.

"May I ask where your family conflicts originated from?" Sherlock's words were very polite, but his tone could not be refused.

"There's nothing to hide," the gentleman said with a wry smile. "We had some disputes about family property, but I think it's over."

Adelia didn't know why, but felt a little uncomfortable after hearing it.

And the silly little police officer seemed to be a little out of shape: "You still have a chance to get back together, sir. I think Ms. Tregennis and Mr. Owen Tregennis will definitely survive."

Mortimer still had a sad face: "It's really a good word from you."

Later, Sherlock took Adlia to ask Mrs. Porter, perhaps because they dragged Owen from the brink of life and death. Although Mrs. Porter was sad, she was very friendly to them.

"I didn't disturb their family reunion," Mrs. Potter's eyes were still filled with tears, "I only refilled their tea after nine o'clock, because Mortimer was afraid of the cold, and I added firewood. Originally, their atmosphere seemed to be pretty good, and I heard Owen teasing George to take care of Brenda."

"Then Mortimer said he was going home, and Brenda kept him, but he didn't seem to be moved," Mrs. Potter wiped the corners of her eyes, "I asked Mortimer if I wanted to prepare a room for him , but he doesn't look at me."

"Later, Owen told him a few words, don't force yourself to act like you want to stay if you don't want to be at home, and Mortimer went out angrily. Hell, why is he angry?"

She was evidently resentful of Mortimer.

"But these are not important anymore," she sobbed patiently, thinking of Owen and Brenda who were in poor condition with their eyes closed at the moment, the old lady shed tears again, "What did they see to have such expressions —my poor boy—”

She almost fainted.

When Adelia silently began to take out her handkerchief and try to find some words to comfort her, she was surprised that Sherlock gently put his arms around this kind and amiable old lady.

She silently put the handkerchief back again, feeling a little touched.

Sherlock thought that his friend would propose to go back early because of his daze, but he didn't.Despite his ailing condition, his loyal friend Adrian dutifully sticks by his side, and is even able to thoughtfully distract the small constable so he can gather evidence.

Almost as soon as she got on the return carriage, Adlia's eyes closed.

Sherlock was full of energy, and he even couldn't bear to see his friend's depression: "You are too weak, I should really take you to the boxing ring next time to appreciate the beauty of strength."

"I have a headache." Adelia rubbed her temples. "Are you feeling well?"

"Not at all, sir," Sherlock frowned. "Have you got your medicine?"

"I always feel wrong," Adelia tried to grab something out of her mind, but failed, "This is not my usual..."

As a doctor, she has always been sensitive to the analysis of symptomology, and she can detect the difference from the inducement to the nature to the duration and so on.In the past, it was often a throbbing pain in the temporal and occipital region, a typical migraine related to emotional states, but this time it was swelling pain, and it should be in the frontal lobe, accompanied by some strange active thinking.

Sherlock's concern was only that one sentence. After asking, he didn't know or hear Adlia's answer clearly, and he was immersed in his thinking on his own.

Seeing this, Adelia also calmed down, closed her eyes and fell asleep without disturbing her.

Although it is winter, the sea breeze of the Cornish Peninsula is suffocated by the sun, with a wonderful touch of the future of spring.There are few people here, desolate and full of vitality.

Similar scenes continue, as real as they are false.

Adelia fell into a dream in the bumps.

"You are not suitable to be a doctor"; "Your psychological quality is still almost meaningless"; "How can the patient trust you when your hands are shaking like this!"; "You don't trust your own words enough, how can you convince the patient?"... Screen Then it turned into the teacher and Professor Parker dying in front of her.She dragged herself to wake up from the dream, opened her eyes and saw the side face of the great detective, and fell asleep again in a daze.

This time the dream turned into him accusing himself of lying.

It wasn't until he in the dream had a condemning expression but said caring words that her frown finally relaxed.

"It's been a big help to have you around," he said.

The author says:

Old Foo to Mortimer: Tell your story (nuclear smile

Turn around and look at adr: You are a great help by my side.

感谢在2021-12-1122:18:31~2021-12-1223:47:34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 irrigate the nutrient solution: 10 bottles of moonlight three points; 3 bottles of rain in late autumn; 2 bottles of Xiaodongdong;

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