My Detective Roommate [Sherlock Holmes]

(see part of the speech)

Since entering September, Sherlock's mood has been ups and downs. Sometimes he is in high spirits and wants to go to a concert; However, he got up early in the morning, stood by the window alone, and played the piano for three full hours.

Watson could barely hear the repertoire that might have been German at first, but later it became a mess and it was difficult to distinguish. He estimated that at this moment, the strings of the violin might have been drawn to smoke.

Having known Sherlock for more than two years, Watson considered that he knew this friend well. In theory, he might not be so irritable if he had a case to solve.He thought he had cleverly caught the strange emotion revealed by the detective when he saw the client, cleared his throat, trying to attract his attention.

But he failed, and the detective still ignored him.

Well, maybe we can only get straight to the point and expose this detective who said he only cares about the case and doesn't care about emotion.

"Beautiful enough, isn't it?" He coughed again as a cover, after all, it's not very gentlemanly to talk about women behind their backs. "I mean, that Ms. Stoner."

The detective woke up as if awakened from a dream: "Ah, you mean that female doctor."

"You've been watching her for so long, and you've been so patient and comforting, how come you didn't remember her name?" Watson teased, persuading his friend to let go of his useless pretense, "I bet she has a crush on you too. ——Her anxiety completely dissipated when she looked at you, but it's a pity that she is going to get married."

Watson originally thought that such a statement would make him feel happy, or he would veto it out of embarrassment.

But there was that melancholy look on his face again, just like the qin music he often played at dusk.

"I have always lacked awareness of the emotion of anxiety, and even made a big mistake because of it," his voice was low, as if he was caught in some kind of memory, "I just think she looks like an old friend."

"Your ex-girlfriend?" Watson originally mentioned it casually as a joke, but unexpectedly saw his friend nodding.

He was going to go downstairs to find something to eat after finishing this sentence, but now he can't care less about eating.

"I've never heard of—"

"Because we don't talk about it with others," he said calmly, as if thinking that maybe it's time to talk about this topic, "brave, smart, beautiful, I will also learn from her and try to pile up some compliments, but I can't put it together." She described it more carefully, and it's hard for me to describe her."

His voice gradually weakened.

"Because no one knew of her existence."

"It's hard for me to imagine that this is what came out of your mouth."

"I didn't tell her either," he sat on the sofa feeling lost, "and she won't hear it either."

Sensitively aware that the lady might have to go far away or die, Watson quietly said nothing. He quietly looked at the detective's expression, and finally found the reason for the detective's usual weird mood.

However, the detective may have rarely ignited the desire to talk, he took a deep breath from the pipe in his mouth, and took it down again: "After receiving this commission, I mean, last night, I dreamed of her. I like the feeling of dreaming too much, because it cannot be analyzed rationally."

Watson hesitated for a moment, but answered: "Uh, maybe you know the interpretation of dreams that is popular recently?"

"Freud?" he sneered. "I do believe in the science of association, but not this."

He was sitting in the smoke of his own making, and in the drawer was the card Smoking is harmful to health.

"That can't explain that I can't dream of her all the time, and it can't explain the she I dreamed of," his tone was calm as if he was doing an academic seminar. "She instructed me in the dream to help this poor girl. A woman doctor, comforting an upset client so I won't miss next month's rent. But her tone of voice isn't all hers, and what she says isn't all hers."

He lowered his eyelids halfway, and she always advised him to have a better attitude towards his clients and pay due attention to their hesitant emotions, but what about her?

"I was thinking again, I know her well, I can even imitate her expression and actions if she said something similar.

"She always likes to act like she doesn't care and doesn't matter. She is good at interacting with people and avoiding interaction."

He silently added in his heart, just like her attitude towards herself.

"Your relationship must be very good," Watson said.

"Yes, I'm sure I love her, as she said, unconsciously, earlier than imagined." The smell of tobacco was rampant in his throat, and his voice was a little rough, "I am relieved When I finished my poor and sad client, I would always think of her, and sometimes I felt that maybe I didn’t have time to tell her exactly what, whether she still wandered away.”

He raised his head again, looked at the couch, and remembered that morning, when they kissed in that position, her cold hand covered his eyes, like a person stuck in the mud, wanting to be rescued, but He didn't want him to see her in a mess.

If he had seen her uneasiness, if he had caught her flipping through his index, if he—

He closed his eyes, and everything in the living room was in his mind as it was.

What if, after she kissed him, she told him loudly about all her uneasiness and the choice she was facing.

Or earlier, sitting next to him in the carriage, telling him of her confusion and bewilderment, the whirlpool of unhappy emotions.

He quickly picked up his depression, at least on the surface: "Back to the case."

"According to her description, the room is a pure secret room." When he said this word, his rational thinking was briefly interrupted again, and all the things he had discussed with her in the past reappeared in his ears, and he began to hate September , "Whistles, tapes, metal sounds, the more unusual things are, the more ideas can be given."

Realizing that sitting here and fantasizing might not be beneficial to the facts, Sherlock jumped up from the sofa: "I don't want to say more conclusions, I can feel that there are many loopholes in it before I say it, let's go, Let's go to the scene of the crime, or the manor at night can give us some enlightenment."

He picked up the poker, and with a violent force, restored the iron rod to its original shape.

"To be honest, from the perspective of the characters currently on the stage, this stepfather, ah, Dr. Roylott, is probably the most suspicious. The poor lady is unsuspecting and has been followed by this big, grumpy man," he snapped Clapping the ashes on his hands, "You know, money is always easy to tempt people - I went to the Law Society to check the will of my deceased wife, and the property left by her is about 750 pounds, and every daughter gets married. At £250, it was the death blow for the old doctor."

He smiled shortly: "Watson, let's go out, take your revolver, maybe the client's visit hastened the process of this stepfather - although I haven't figured out how he did it .”

The weather of the day was fine, and despite the twilight, the smell of the moist earth could make one feel happy. Sherlock kept his head down in thought while he was in the carriage, until Watson interrupted him.

"Look, is that the house we're looking for?"

Sherlock tapped on the door with his cane, and the coachman stopped.They walked slowly along the road to the house built of gray stones. This house also conformed to the client's statement, and it was indeed a bit down and out.Scaffolding is installed outside, it really feels like it needs to be renovated.Perhaps through Miss Stoner's description, Sherlock did not have any difficulty locking the rooms of Miss Stoner and her stepfather, as well as the room of Miss Stoner's poor sister. He carefully explored the windowsills of several rooms After a while.Although they were looking at the same scene, Watson was sure that Sherlock simply saw things differently, which was his usual skill.

They knocked at the door, and were greeted cheerfully by the morning's client.

Perhaps it was after hearing Sherlock's story about his past with his girlfriend, Watson couldn't help but have some reverie when he watched his communication with the client.But what was disappointing was that their communication was very polite, and Sherlock didn't even say a word of greeting, so he directly asked to inspect the room.

Three rooms side by side, the middle one is the scene of the crime.Sherlock's eyes were like the most advanced cameras of this era, scanning everything in the house.

"You said your sister smelled smoke?" he asked.

"Yes, the Indian cigar my father used to smoke."

"The bell rope is new," he tugged, "but it doesn't look like there's a bell."

"Father said that you can ring the bell to call the housekeeper, but it seems that something went wrong and it was connected to the wrong place, but my sister and I rarely use this."

"Is he the one who asked you to move into this room?" He stared back at the lady burningly.

"Yes, because the room at my end is just being renovated."

Even Watson figured out some ideas from his question. Not surprisingly, everything the client's stepfather did was to bring his stepdaughter to the scene of the former murder, but how did he do it? , he still can't figure it out.

Sherlock held out his hand to him, as if begging for something.

"What do you need?" Watson asked.

But he withdrew his hand suddenly: "I forgot, the magnifying glass is with me."

He bent down to check the window sill of this room, and carefully scanned with a magnifying glass for signs of intrusion by outsiders.After inspecting Miss Stoner's house, under her guidance, they even sneaked into the room of the stepfather who did not come back.Until it was all over, Sherlock seemed to have a new idea.He told the client to go back to the original room quietly at night and open the window to let them in.

At night, the clever client learned their codes, and after letting them in, he quietly left.Watson and Sherlock sat by the window, quietly waiting for any accident to happen.

Watson didn't understand why Sherlock was so anxious, as if he was sure that something would happen in the evening.

"You are not at all uncomfortable staying in the lady's room." Watson said quietly and breathlessly.

Sherlock gave him a sidelong glance, beckoning him to be quiet.

But after a long time, as if he couldn't bear the loneliness, he said, "If I say that I'm used to it, you will definitely make a fuss again."

At three o'clock in the morning, a light flashed through the vent, and the two explorers became vigilant.

The author says:

Watson's night vision was not as good as that of the specially trained Sherlock, and that ray of light hurt his eyes.He heard a strange whistle, creepy in the night.

"Spotted belt!" Sherlock said low and hastily, and at the same time waved the rattan in his hand, and Watson could barely recognize that he had been swinging the bell rope.

After Sherlock stopped, there was a scream from the next door.

They hurried out of the room just in time to bump into Miss Stoner.

Miss Stoner threw herself into Sherlock's arms with a pale complexion. Sherlock only patted her on the shoulder hastily, handed her over to Watson, and opened the door of Roylott's room by himself.

He held a gun, but that didn't seem to work.

"Roylott is dead," he jeered. "Snake handlers are always bitten, Watson, look at this frightening snake."

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>.

ps: I want to do some widow literature, but I can’t support it without a case, so I’m citing the original.The case is from The Spotted Tape, modified.

Watson: "You are not at all uncomfortable in the lady's room."

老福：我一直在adr房间里感谢在2022-01-0800:17:10~2022-01-0822:22:09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: Little Dongdong, Shermos 1;

Thanks to the little angel of the irrigation nutrient solution: 1 bottle of hard to wake up from a dream;

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