My Detective Roommate [Sherlock Holmes]

(Part of the content is in the words)

The Diogenes Club, where the most quiet and shy people in London gather.

"You look a lot more comfortable here than when I was last here," Sherlock said finally, after entering the room, "and you've gained four pounds with it."

"After all, a small expansion of power can bring me a comfortable experience," Mycroft poured coffee for his brother, "Although we don't have the habit of spending Christmas together every year, you are indeed a bit late - Cornish The style of the peninsula must be very pleasant to your body and mind, especially when you encounter a bizarre case."

"Devil's foot, you know again?" He accepted his brother's service unceremoniously, and took a sip of coffee.

"Although the case file returned attributed the death to inexplicable fear and demons, it is not difficult for me to judge that it was a special kind of poisonous gas," he said, sometimes with a sense of arrogance that everything was under control, "The murderer in the first case It's Mortimer, the motive is nothing more than a property dispute between brothers, Mortimer's death, I'm afraid the murderer is an African explorer, and the motive is most likely love-is this the reason you let him go?"

"You really don't give people a chance to breathe," Sherlock said helplessly, "It's not that I let him go on purpose, but that those detectives are too stupid."

"Although your friends have given you extraordinary trust, you must not be blindly arrogant and compare yourself to the law," he meant, "just this once."

He didn't give his younger brother a chance to defend himself—he knew in his heart that his younger brother was not let go purely because of his feelings. After finding out the truth, Sherlock was by no means a cold-blooded crime-solving machine. He had his own moral values, and among those The requirements of the law are higher than the law, after all, the law is just the bottom line of morality.On this point, Mycroft's principles of doing things are quite different from those of his younger brother. He doesn't fully agree, but he doesn't deny it either.

"What do you plan to do after that?" Although he didn't specify what he meant, they all knew what he was talking about.

"Let it be." Sherlock was a little uncertain.

McCoff raised the corner of his mouth: "This is not in line with your usual habits."

Sherlock, who actually had some calculations in his mind, became upset at the moment, and put down the coffee cup with a little force, making a crisp sound.He frowned slightly, and looked at the two ladders placed in front of the window.

"Want to take a look?" The elder brother didn't make any more pressing questions.

"Anything." Sherlock said so, but got up first, climbed up the ladder in a few steps, and observed the crowd downstairs from his brother's preferred position.

"You start first?" Mycroft also sat on the other side of the ladder slowly.

For some reason, Sherlock remembered the crooked question that his friend asked him at the end, as well as the prize that he reluctantly took out—a penny.

"It seems that you have no interest in reasoning training?" Sherlock's eyes quickly focused on the thin and dark passerby, and threw out the introduction: "A newly retired soldier."

"Indian service." Mycroft answered unhurriedly.

"widower."

Mycroft raised his eyebrows and followed his words: "There is more than one child."

Noticing the surprised look on his younger brother's face, Mycroft showed a smug smile. Rather than surprising the mediocre goldfish, he could find a sense of accomplishment from his younger brother, but he was still humble in words: "Sherlock , you really should calm down a little bit, think about what you are doing, what you are thinking, you see, he is buying things for the children. It is a rattle, indicating that one of the children is very young. His wife may have passed away after giving birth. He There is a little book under his arm, which shows that he still misses another child."

Mycroft can't avoid some body movement when he relaxes and speaks, which may be counted in his rare exercise.

Sherlock reluctantly admitted: "You are indeed always a little taller than me."

"You admit defeat too easily."

"Maybe it's because I've been more open about this recently." He replied quickly.

"A good change?"

"I think so."

The two brothers sat by the window, chatting about their recent life from time to time, and when someone came into view, they randomly started a new round of reasoning.Since they were adults, the two brothers rarely had such a wide-ranging chat.

Before going out, Mycroft said abruptly: "So my brother, you brought all the Christmas presents, are you sure you won't give them to me?"

Sherlock was about to press the door lock, but he turned around with great interest, and took out the small packing box from his pocket: "I wanted to see how long you could hold it."

"You tidy up too carelessly," Mycroft received it smoothly, and weighed it in his hand, "Scarf?"

Sherlock nodded.

"Ah, looks like I forgot my brother's birthday present—but I don't think he needs it that much," McCoff smiled narrowly, "after all, my brother had a beautiful company that night and could listen to Sarasate meeting."

"You will make me feel that you are monitoring my life." Sherlock suddenly regretted giving away the gift.

"You should understand that my brain will automatically analyze the information sent to the door." Mycroft opened the door for his younger brother. "The gift is at Mrs. Hudson's place, remember to accept it."

The door opened, and there was silence outside. This club with eccentric habits accommodated the most quiet people in London. Mycroft was barely one of them, but more precisely, he was the observer and the inducer.

Sherlock sometimes felt that his brother had some bad tastes.

Ah, Adelia seems to have said that about him too, Sherlock suddenly thought, maybe this is also a kind of inheritance?

Back in Baker Street, he was surprised to find that there seemed to be someone waiting, not just his friends.

Mrs. Hudson greeted him happily with a plate in her hand: "Holmes, you have a client. Adrian has arranged for you first. I think you should meet him as soon as possible."

Christmas gift?My brother's gift was really ingenious.Sherlock walked upstairs quickly, adjusted his hat and bow tie, and then pushed open the door. His friend had calmed down his panic-stricken client with her superb social skills.

"Good afternoon, Adrian," he hung the scarf behind the door, "and you--how are you, Mr. Melas."

When this Mr. Melas heard Sherlock's voice, he stood up abruptly: "Surely you are Mr. Holmes?"

Adlia couldn't help but bend her eyes when she heard the name "Little Holmes".

Sherlock didn't care much about the title, and reached out to shake hands with Melas.

The olive-skinned gentleman looked earnest: "I didn't think of Mr. Holmes—I mean Mr. Mycroft Holmes would take my word for it and tell me that I could seek your help. I think he has already told you. How about me?"

Since his friend still needed to keep warm by the fireplace, Sherlock politely invited him to sit on his single sofa a little far from the fireplace, and then he sat next to Adrian.

"You still need me to stand aside for your commission—?" Adelia said so, but she didn't intend to stand up and leave, so she received the detective's eyes of "you know what you are asking", and she could feel at ease. Then sat down.

After the three of them sat down, Sherlock spoke up: "My brother only told me that there will be a commission, but he didn't introduce the specific situation—but let me tell you something, and you can evaluate the accuracy."

"It's not difficult to tell from your appearance that you are of Greek descent. You should have a higher education and be a clerk, but you often need to go out, and you often have contact with Eastern people-but you don't have wheat on you. Kauf has a similar politician vibe, not a government clerk, ah, it's a bit difficult for me. But to be honest, I can still draw the correct conclusion, you are an interpreter, mainly translating Greek, right? "

"Although there is no exact point, what you said, sir, is correct. I am of Greek descent, born in Greece, and have a Greek name. Half of my work is as an interpreter in the court, and part of my income comes from those who live in Northam. The wealthy Orientals at the Berland Street Hotel, I will guide them-oh, I forgot to say, although I mainly translate Greek, I am proficient in many languages.”

As far as his appearance is concerned, it is indeed the appearance of a southerner, but after he speaks, he looks like an educated British person, which is enough to prove his talent in languages.

Sherlock didn't find it difficult to reason in this way, but receiving Adlia's admiring eyes gave him a sense of accomplishment: "Then, why did you seek to come here?"

"It's a weird experience, which makes me somewhat uneasy," the tall Greek MP rubbed his hands, "I'm not sure if you'd like to listen."

"Please."

His black eyes lit up, he licked his lips, and finally figured out where to start: "You know, as translators, we often have to face some emergency situations, encountering difficulties or foreigners arriving in London late at night , probably at an unusual time - so on Monday night, I was really unprepared, and a stylish and polite young man invited me to be an interpreter, promising a good fee, saying that his Greek friend would come I wouldn't be surprised if I don't understand English and need an interpreter urgently."

Mrs. Hudson served the tea, put it quietly at their table, glanced carefully at her children and Mr. Holmes, and left with a smile.

"Please drink tea, sir, and then you can continue to tell your story." Sherlock crossed his left leg to the right, tapped his toes, and rested his elbow on the back of the sofa-he turned to the sofa in a comfortable posture. Uneasy principals pass on their authority.

And Adlia, who was next to her, felt that her territory had been violated a little bit,

Well, can't expose him in front of guests.

——She never admits that the two are getting closer... Maybe she knows it well.

The author says:

"The young man told me he lived in Kensington some way from here. He seemed very anxious. As soon as we came to the street, he pushed me into the carriage. You need to know that interpreters are also needed. Careful work, I got into the carriage, and immediately saw that it was wrong. The carriage I was riding in was old and worn, but it was very elegant, not like the common shabby four-wheeled carriage in London. Mr. Latimer sat opposite me, He took out a scary-looking, lead-filled bludgeon from his pocket, swung it back and forth a few times, as if testing its weight and power, then put it on the seat beside him without saying a word, and then He closed the windows on both sides."

Sherlock's eyebrows and eyes moved, obviously interested: "I'm afraid your destination is not Kensington."

"Sir, you're right in guessing that they even covered the windows with paper so I wouldn't be able to see out of them - he even told me directly, saying: 'It's a good thing for you not to know where you're going, If you find the way you came back, it may not be very convenient for me." I need to add one more thing, this client is big and strong, I am afraid that a clerk like me is by no means his opponent, you can imagine how much I was at that time panicked."

Sherlock was not very interested in the client's panic, and only wanted to hear the follow-up progress. Adlia silently pushed the small wine glass she took out just now, and motioned for the other party to take a sip of some brandy—although she slandered the detective several times. This approach, but for overly frightened patients, brandy is brandy.

Mr. Melas smiled wryly and drank the brandy and continued: "He said it was rude, but they would make it up to me - which meant he wasn't alone - and he said he had to warn me, never Don't try to call the police or do anything against him, I must remember that I can't get out of my hands."

Melas imitated his tone, very calm, but it was clear that the threatening meaning of the words was very harsh.

"You and Mycroft are neighbors? On Pall Mall?" Sherlock asked suddenly.

"Yes, I live upstairs from him. I will ask him about any difficulties." Mr. Melas was stunned.

"I don't think you'll be able to guess where it leads from the condition of the road—" Sherlock thought thoughtfully, "When did you leave Pall Mall Street, and when did you get off?"

"Departed at [-]:[-], and it was [-]:[-] when I got off the bus. It is difficult to evaluate the road conditions. I feel that there are both stone roads and asphalt roads." He stopped and continued, "When I got off the bus, I walked into I passed a low archway, and I vaguely remember seeing a lawn with trees growing on both sides when I came in. I’m not sure if this is a private courtyard or the real countryside.”

"There was a colored kerosene lamp in the hall, and it was turned very small. I could only see a big house with many pictures hanging in it, but I couldn't see anything else. In the dim light, I could see the person who opened the door. Short stature. Described as trivial, he is a middle-aged man, wearing glasses, with shoulders bowed forward.

"'Mr. Melas, Harold?' said he.

"'right'

"'It's well done, well done! We mean no harm, Mr. Melas, but we can't do it without you. If you'll be honest with us, you won't regret it, and if you're going to play tricks, then May God bless you!' He spoke in a disturbed, trembling voice, with a dry chuckle, but for some reason he struck me as more frightening than the young man.

"'What do you want me to do?' I asked.

"'Just to ask the Greek gentleman who visited us a few questions, and we got an answer. But say what we tell you, and don't talk too much, or else...' He chuckled again, 'Otherwise, You might as well never have been born at all.'"

Doubtless the poor Greek interpreter had to endure such intimidation when he stepped into someone else's territory and was powerless to resist.

Adlia took out her notebook habitually and wrote down the names of several key people.

"Are there no other iconic locations around at all?" Sherlock confirms.

"Sorry, I didn't see anything."

"Whistle sounds, church bells?"

"Unfortunately, not at all along the way."

Sherlock gestured to continue.

"He opened the door as he spoke, and led me into a room, richly furnished, but still lit by a very small lamp. The room was so large that my feet were on the carpet when I entered It was soft, indicating that it was very high-end. I saw some soft velvet chairs, a tall white marble mantelpiece, what seemed to be a pair of Japanese armor on one side, and a chair directly under the lamp. He gestured for me to sit down. The young man went out, then suddenly came back through another door, leading in a man in a baggy pajamas, who walked slowly towards us. When we reached the dim light, I Seeing him more clearly, I was terrified by his appearance. His complexion was sallow and haggard, with two bright and protruding eyes. Apart from his frail body, what shocked me even more was that he The face was covered with strange-shaped adhesive plasters, and a large piece of gauze was stuck to the mouth with adhesive plaster.

"'Have you got the slate, Harold?' cried the older man, as the queer slumped in the chair: 'Have you let go of his hand? Well, then. Give him a pen.' Mr. Melas, please ask him the question, and let him write the answer. Ask him first, is he going to sign the document?'

"The man's eyes flashed with anger." 'No! ’ he wrote in Greek on the tablet.

"'Non-negotiable?' I asked, as the scoundrel had ordered.

"'Unless I see her marry under the testimony of a Greek priest I know, there is no room for discussion.'

"The older fellow grinned viciously and said: 'Well, do you know what you're going to get?'

"'I don't care about anything.'

"The above questions and answers are just some fragments of our strange conversation, written and written. I had to ask him again and again whether he would compromise and sign the document; and I got the same angry answer time and time again. I am very sorry. A wonderful thought came to me soon. I added what I wanted to ask every time I asked a question. At first I asked some irrelevant words to try to see if the two present could understand them. Later, I found that they There was no response, so he asked more boldly.

I included some inquiry information during the translation process, and he told me that he was from Athens and had no acquaintance in London. He was brought here for nearly three weeks and was not allowed to eat. Where, oh yes, his name is Cletti. "

"You can't be smarter." Sherlock praised.

The interpreter showed a regretful expression.

"Five more minutes, Mr. Holmes, and I shall be able to find out the whole matter in their presence. One more question might clear the matter up, when the door opens suddenly and a woman enters. I couldn't see her face clearly, I only felt that she was tall and slender, with black hair and wearing loose white pajamas.

"'Harold,' said the woman in broken English, 'I can't stay any longer. It's so lonely here, only... oh, my God, isn't this Paul!'

"The last two words were in Greek, and at the end of the sentence, the man tore off the adhesive plaster from his mouth, screaming, 'Sophie! Sophie!' and threw himself into the woman's arms. Yet They hugged only for a moment before the young man grabbed the woman and pushed her out the door. The older man had no trouble grabbing the emaciated victim and dragging him out the other door. I was alone, and I stood up suddenly, thinking vaguely: I could try to find some clues to see where I was. But luckily I haven't done it yet, because when I looked up, I saw the old man The big man stood at the door, staring at me covetously.

"'Come, Mr. Melas,' said he, 'you see we have not treated you as an outsider to a private affair. Here's five pounds,' he said, coming up to me, 'and I hope that's enough As a token of thanks. But remember, if you tell this to anyone—beware. Only to a living person—let God have mercy on your dead soul!'

"I cannot describe to you how disgusted and horrified I was by this small-faced man. Now that the light was on him, I could see him better. His face was gaunt and haggard, and his little beard was He stretched his face forward when he spoke, his lips and eyelids trembled, like a chorea patient. I couldn't help thinking that his continuous grotesque laughter was also a symptom of neurosis. However, his terrifying appearance was still Those eyes, livid and gray, shone with a cold, vicious, and murderous light.

"'We'll know if you tell the story,' said he,

"'We have means of getting news. A carriage is waiting for you now, and my companion will take you on your way.'

"I hurried across the hall and got into the carriage, and had another look at the trees and garden. Mr. Latimer followed me, and sat opposite me in silence. We drove again in silence for a long time. The car windows were still blocked, and finally, the car didn't stop until midnight."

"Obviously, they won't really send you home." Adelia murmured silently, and was then glanced at by the detective.

"Yes, very far from Pall Mall, but Latimer warned me not to follow their carriage, which I felt threatened with death--they left me in a moor, with a row of houses far away , with lights flashing in the windows; on the other side, the red signal lights of the railway."

"But it looks like you were lucky enough to find your way home."

"I met a rail porter who told me it was Wandsworth Heath and directed me to leave from Clapham Junction, just in time for the last train to Victoria station.

"That concludes my adventure. I know neither where I have been, nor whom I have spoken to, nor anything else, except what I have just told you, Mr. Holmes. But I know that Dirty business was going on there. If I could, I would help the unfortunate man. I told Mr. Mycroft Holmes the whole story the next morning, and thereafter made a report to the police."

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

I didn't want to write this case at first, but I don't know why the pen is a little out of control... After this case, there is another case of the original work, (one more than the previous outline plan...) Scratching my head, I mainly want to write about the old man and the old man. My wife daily, and then I try to control ... reduce the description of the case content, mainly daily ... ah ah ah ah ah, then the contents of these original cases are put in the talk, let everyone review the case, but spend less money less money, but spend less money. La.

然后感谢在2021-12-2221:49:00~2021-12-2322:29:00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 little dongdong;

Thanks to the little angel of irrigation nutrient solution: time traveler 10 bottles;

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