My Detective Roommate [Sherlock Holmes]

"John Clay was Moriarty's loyal lackey," he murmured. "Moriarty favored men like that, aristocratic skin, criminal nature."

Adelia thought for a while and nodded.

"Then you, why do the people around him care so much about you?" Sherlock asked in a low voice.

Adelia is also very distressed, and she can't think of any reason. She can't say it's because she got a perfect score in the exam at the moment. In addition to sitting in the front row in class and occasionally answering questions."

Even though the two of them didn't mention the matter of stalking, they obviously reached the same conclusion. I'm afraid that "he" refers to the famous Professor Moriarty in the dark.

"I'm good at exploring the source from the trembling of the end of the spider's web," Sherlock reached out and took hers, "I have explored several times, several times to a position close to the center of the web, but he cunningly avoided— ——With my current achievements, it’s not enough to alarm him, he didn’t specifically aim at my evasion, but his usual caution.”

Adelia listened silently, shaking back gently.

This resulted in the detective's intensified movements. His five fingers squeezed into hers, and he played with them like he found a new toy.

"The case you got involved inexplicably, it's hard to say that it wasn't his work—let me think about it, the woman who died of pneumothorax in Hampshire, and the female patient who was raped and died in the small clinic you were in?"

Adelia didn't expect that he could still remember the former, and she almost had no memory of it herself, her mind was in a mess: "Can you take your hand away, it affects my thinking a bit."

It's just that she said so, but she didn't really pull her hand.

"But that's good for my thinking." There was a childlike smile on the corner of his mouth, but it quickly disappeared, "If it is said that the manor owner at that time had an affair with Moriarty, then you walk into him It's not surprising that the field of view is not surprising, perhaps this can even explain why at that time—what was the name of the manor owner?"

"Branston."

"This would also explain why Branston suddenly changed his mind about you, then let you go and praised you," he went on. "The timing is also right..."

His lips moved, as if he was thinking extremely fast, and his words could no longer keep up with his brain.Adelia was convinced that she shouldn't bother at this moment, so she could only pretend that her right hand didn't belong to her, and lent it to him for a short time as a tool to help her think.

The moonlight is sandwiched with mist, gently sprinkled on the road, laying a silver light and shadow, and covered with a mysterious veil. If the moonlight is indeed created by God, then it must also be for the people in the moonlight——to illuminate the road ahead, and caress. soul.

Oops, the villain in her heart is deeply buried in the corner, why would she feel a little happy when he said that.

It was already twelve o'clock when we returned to Baker Street. At that time, Adelia's usually cold hands were already covered with heat. After saying good night, they both washed and rested.

Adelia lay on the bed and couldn't sleep for a long time, so she opened the curtains and sat in front of the window with her clothes on. Fortunately, the moon still showed her face, giving her a bit of beauty.

In fact, I was a little sleepy, but I had some weird thoughts tossing and turning.She was thinking, is she extremely unlucky, or is this a setback that people should experience?She had no way of assessing it all accurately.Thinking of the contents of Smith's letter, she knew what to do, but there was nothing she could do.

Sherlock didn't tell her why Moriarty appeared in Hampshire seven or eight years ago, but Adlia vaguely guessed that the casino business might be involved. Coupled with Moran's appearance, I'm afraid Mori Artie also cared quite a bit, if all this came into McCoff's sight, then maybe he could feel a little relieved.

Then why, did you notice yourself again?

She asked herself, she didn't have any traits that criminals would like in her body, if she really wanted to say——

Suddenly, she thought of Stilton.

She remembered showing Stilton a picture of the mad scientist who had done the organ transplant.

The gentle moonlight gradually cooled down, leaving only a stinging dark glow.

If it is said that he is the only one in Moriarty's line of sight now...?

The case of the Red Hair Society ended a little sloppily, because the amount of money involved was huge, and it was stopped properly without causing serious consequences, so the public rarely heard of it. The doctor's detectives stopped paying attention to the case itself long after the case was over.He was out a lot, sometimes to the lab, sometimes not.And Adelia has become even less fond of going out. She used to walk the dog every day, but now Sherlock can hardly ask her to go for a walk.

Their way of getting along has also quietly changed.

For example, when Sherlock goes out, he always brings back some small things-a small rye whiskey, a bag of unknown coffee beans, a scarf, cufflinks, or whatever, Adlia felt that he was playing with something. pet games.Because Adelia doesn't like to go out, the work of walking the dog is also handed over to Sherlock, but Sherlock is definitely more than just walking the dog. Cleaning hassles.

What made Adelia most angry was that she was diligently washing the dog there, and the detective stood at the door with arms crossed to watch her.

"You are helping!" she said helplessly.

"I'm thinking about my article." He seemed to enjoy watching her being shilled.

"I'd like to know what aspect your Excellency's masterpiece is about?"

The detective pondered for a moment in a mysterious way: "Maybe it's about the use of dogs in investigative work?"

Originally this topic was over, but Adlia suddenly laughed again after thinking about it: "Indeed, it is very useful, Mr. Hound."

Oh, by the way, the confessional detective didn't even dare touch his pipe in the presence of Adélia, as soon as he touched it someone would get up and go back to the room.

"You're affecting my work a little bit," he pretended to be distressed, "I'm writing an article on soot identification."

"I saw it," Adelia smiled leaning against the door of the room, "but it doesn't prevent me from avoiding people who smoke. After all, I have to consider my own health."

He could only sigh, put the pipe back to its original position, turned around the room, and then looked up, his girl was still leaning against the door, smiling a bit badly.So he decided to ask for some reward, strode up to her, lowered his head and kissed her pomegranate-like lips.

"Well, I've paid out the payment ahead of time," he said, "I'm going to walk the dog today."

Adelia could only watch the detective put on his hat and leave in a hurry, not bothering to remind him that he had already been there today, and she was not unaware that he stole the matchbox from her coat.

This kind of life lasted for more than half a month. After sending Sherlock away in the morning, Adlia read a book alone in the room. Because the weather was good, she opened the curtains and read by the skylight.

And the accident happened at this moment-the window was broken, and a bullet almost grazed her forehead and hit the vase behind her.

Adelia's first reaction was to look out the window. A man was closing his gun. He didn't shy away from the look in Adelia's eyes. He even waved to her calmly, showed a "friendly" smile, and then turned and went downstairs. went.

That's Moran.

Her first reaction was to rush out of the room and go downstairs, but Moran disappeared without a trace. Adelia stood at the door of 221B in a daze, and then a flower pot happened to fall in front of her—she dodged again and again. One step too late, it would hit her on the head, and when she raised her head, there was nothing upstairs.

A bare flowerpot filled with soil, nothing planted.

Adelia stood blankly on the side of the street, looking both ways, but couldn't see anything.She returned to 221B silently, took a cloth bag, put away the flower pot and the debris, and then asked the newsboy downstairs to help her find a worker to change the window glass for her at a price of five pence.

When Sherlock returned home, he found that the upstairs lights were off and the curtains were drawn. Everything seemed to be back to how it was when he and Adelia first met. The house was neat and tidy, and she was hiding in the room .

Are you sleeping?Sherlock habitually used his brain, but found out that his friend might have been careless to eat lunch and dinner because Mrs. Hudson was not at home-even though he himself was an irregular sleeper and sleepless thinker. He is a human being, but he always feels that Adelia eats too little and is too thin, and he has to condemn her behavior that does not take care of her body.Then he saw footprints on the carpet—more than one, I'm afraid—followed Adlia into her room.

A feeling of uneasiness lurks deep in his mind, he temporarily gave up thinking and knocked on her bedroom door directly.

In a few seconds, she opened the door—she looked like she had fallen asleep, her hair was rarely disheveled, and her eyes were sleepy and empty.

"You're back." She yawned, with a nasal voice that just woke up.

"Did anyone come to the house today?" He asked, and when he looked up, he found a pane of window pane was exceptionally bright, "The window was broken?"

"Well, it was probably a stone thrown by a child," she said lazily. "It was broken when I went back to the room, so I asked someone to repair it. It affected my nap a bit."

He vaguely noticed something abnormal, but his thinking was disrupted by her throwing herself into her arms.

"I'm so sleepy, I'm really sleepy," she repeated, even a little coquettishly, "but I didn't finish the book."

She was as soft as a piece of jelly, and like a lazy kitten, exuding warm and fluffy heat all over her body.His chin was against the top of her hair, and his half-lidded eyelids concealed some tenderness.

"I didn't expect you to be so vulnerable when you woke up." There was a smile in his voice, and he forgot to accuse her of not eating.

"It seems that I fell asleep," her voice was muffled, "I feel like I'm the only one left after waking up."

So he tightened his arms tightly to make sure she felt his presence.

"Did you go upstairs after smoking your cigarette secretly again?" she muttered, not mentioning that the smell of tobacco at the moment made her feel very relieved. "You should have confiscated your matchbox."

"My Adelia, unless you're willing to go for a walk with me, you can't police me if I smoke secretly." He looked down and could see the pink tips of her ears.

But she didn't answer directly, and asked as if on a whim: "I think it would be a little strange to call you Sherlock if I was still wearing men's clothing."

"If you're sure that we can all restrain our emotions in front of outsiders, the charge of 'indecent' probably won't catch up with us." He chuckled.

She was in his arms, her arms were still around his neck, but she still insisted: "I haven't said what kind of emotion I have."

And in his heart, she is so stupid that cute bubbles pop out, but he has always been tolerant and patient with her: "Well, I'm still waiting for you to tell me."

Adelia moved, changed her posture, and buried her face in his arms. The fabric of the coat was a little worn out, so she went to look for his shirt.

He knew the reason for her actions, but he was still teasing: "Do you need me to unbutton the collar of my shirt?"

Adlia didn't say a word, and tightened her hands around his neck.

She didn't dare to raise her head, for fear that the detective would notice the clues of her expression.

Not sleepy, not sluggish.

She is afraid.

The gunshots on the opposite side of 221B, the flower pots falling from the sky, there is no doubt that the case of the Redheads is not over yet, or that Moriarty's surveillance of her is not over yet.

The only thing that made her happy was that Moriarty might have had a deviation in the information, or for some other reason, it seemed that she was convinced that she had persuaded Sherlock to disrupt his actions and plans, and put the blame on her.

Moreover, he seemed to regard her as someone he could win over.

The soil in the flowerpot was dry and newly filled, and among them, Adlia found the threatening invitation letter.

The author says:

别的不说，就说甜不甜吧。感谢在2022-01-0222:18:10~2022-01-0400:27:53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 mines: 2 for Cat and Sea; 1 for Little Dongdong;

Thanks to the little angels who irrigate the nutrient solution: ignorant, golden wind is fine, and 10 bottles are worth three catties;

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