I have two faces

Sherlock Holmes didn't want to use his clever mind on an ordinary murder case.

No matter how hard Lestrade tried to convince him, and how cruel and bloody the photos of the scene were, they still couldn't arouse Sherlock's interest.

Do you think Sherlock would just do it for the righteous reason of "oh god that girl died so badly I have to help her find the killer"?

no.

Morality cannot convince him, but at the same time Sherlock is very easy to be persuaded.

As long as the case interested Sherlock a little bit.

So when Lestrade found him again after a month and said that there had been a fourth victim, Sherlock, after habitually mocking the police in Scotland Yard for lowering the IQ of the whole street, had a rare slight understanding of the case. a little interested.

Lestrade asked hesitantly, "Why did you agree now?"

Sherlock went down the stairs and opened the door of 221b. He had been in the house for half a month, and Sherlock squinted his eyes to adapt to the harsh sunlight.

Very good, it is a weather suitable for going out for a walk.

Watson wanted to save Lestrade's dignity in time, but he still couldn't match Sherlock's speed of speech, "A serial murder case can barely add some outings to my boring and boring daily life without cases. I haven't gone out for half a month, and Watson advised me to go out and bask in the sun to help my health."

Lestrade: I hate it.

"Then shall we go and see the scene now?"

Sherlock's tone was casual: "There is nothing to see at the scene that was destroyed by you."

Lestrade, who was stabbed again, said firmly, "Then what should we do now?"

But Sherlock couldn't understand Lestrade's stubbornness and persistence. He took a taxi and rejected Lestrade's companion, showing a fake smile that could no longer be fake: "Wait for you to go back to the police station for a drink." In coffee time, maybe I've knocked on your office door with a murderer."

Lestrade's heart skipped a beat, "You want to act alone? No, no, no, you need the police force!"

"Watson."

After Sherlock finished speaking, he closed the car door.

Lestrade almost collapsed, he turned to look at Watson.

Watson suddenly sympathized with Lestrade, and comforted him: "I believe Sherlock, since he acted alone, he should have a full grasp of this case."

"But he didn't say anything!!"

Watson: "Maybe I'm worried that you don't understand."

Lestrade: ... Watson, you have changed!

It has to be said that, as Sherlock's assistant, Watson still knows some of Sherlock's eccentricities very well.

But Watson also kind of misses Sherlock's thoughts on the case, since he doesn't say anything.

If Lestrade and Watson knew that Sherlock was going to the scene of the murder to save people, no matter how mean Sherlock was, they would follow.

The fifth victim was a little girl with dark hair and blue eyes.

She was an accident, a beautiful accident.

So she is the longest living of her predecessors.

But soon, she was going to die.

She seemed to be walking in a river full of thorns, and a sharp knife sprang up from the ground, cutting her skin.

The world is full of noise and chaos, with countless voices and indistinguishable black and white images squeezed into her fragile ears and eyes.

The light blue veins under the skin are like meandering rivers. There are dozens of long or short knife marks on her wrist, most of which have become pale and can't be seen unless you look closely, but some of them are white Very glaring on the skin.

At this moment, the two red needle holes above the knife marks, the blood beads that appeared have solidified.

"dad……"

"Dad... don't go..."

The girl on the operating table held on for half an hour and finally sobbed uncontrollably. Colin purposely let Enid regain her muscle power. Her eyes were empty but she hugged the operating table as if she had seen something. Colin.

"Why are you leaving... Is Enid not good..."

Colin hugged Enid tightly, the girl's trembling body and almost overflowing despair greatly pleased Colin.

He threw away the injected needle and picked up the cold-looking scalpel again.

"Daddy is going to kill you now."

Colin suppressed his voice and restrained his excitement. He didn't want to be too rude to cause flaws on this lovely and beautiful work of art.

"Where do we start?"

The scalpel slashed across Enid's collarbone and landed in the center of his chest. Colin looked at Enid expectantly: "I want to see your heart, show it to Dad."

Enid looked at Colin blankly, her blue eyes were dull, but in Enid's world, she returned to the year when she was 15 years old.

Enid's father was not a very polite man, he had nothing to do with a gentleman.

If he is going, he will not give advance notice.

It was Enid who found out that something was wrong with her father, and she stood at the door crying with the pink panther doll her father bought, her vision blurred.

"Dad, are you leaving?"

The father who was caught slipping away hugged his head angrily, "Damn it! I hate this kind of parting scene the most! Is the ass of the Marvel screenwriter stuffed with soap opera foam?"

"Dad, did you leave because Enid wanted Mom? I don't want Mom, I don't want anything, I just want Dad!"

Enid hugged Baba and yelled at him not to go.

But suddenly, a curly-haired man with a horse face broke in from outside the door and shot Dad dead.

Blood covered Enid's face, warm and bloody.

Enid's world began to blur, distort, and even change again. When Enid saw clearly again, she found that her father was still standing there intact.

No guns, no bodies, no blood.

But Enid was scared, so she threw herself into Dad's arms and hugged her tightly, "Dad, don't leave me."

Sherlock Holmes: ...? ? ?

For the first time, Sherlock's clever mind was a little sluggish.

When Lestrade received the call from Sherlock, he was a little touched. One day, it was finally his turn to ask the police for help from Mad's vicious tongue! ! !

"Sally! Anderson! Action team! Follow me to the police!"

"Eh? Whose case?"

Lestrade felt like a poor farmer who had finally recovered from the oppression of the nobles.

"It's that guy Sherlock, he called the police to ask us for help, well, put away your schadenfreude faces, stay calm and follow me."

Anderson: "But the corners of your mouth are almost behind your ears..."

Lestrade restrained his smile and rushed to the location provided by Sherlock.

However, when they went there, they realized that things were not that simple.

Colin Felson, an anesthesiologist working in a private hospital, Lestrade and the others found surgical knives and the DNA of the previous victims in his home. When Sherlock arrived, Colin was about to kill the fifth The victim was shot in the chest by Sherlock, and his life and death are unknown.

There is no doubt that Colin Felson was responsible for one of the chilling serial femicides of this period.

Lestrade ordered Colin to be taken to the hospital, and then couldn't wait...to see Sherlock's plight.

God knows how long he held back his laughter!

Sherlock was sitting on the sofa, resting his forehead with one hand. Others could not see his expression clearly, but judging from the figure of giving up the treatment, he was greatly stimulated.

There was a black-haired girl nestled in his arms, with a dazed look, empty eyes, and a blurred mind, but the hand holding Sherlock was not at all vague.

Shouting "Dad, don't go", "Dad, stay with me", "Dad, Dad..."

Lestrade: "..."

"I hear your breath mocking me."

Sherlock said coldly.

Lestrade coughed lightly, "What's wrong with her?"

"She was injected with 30% pure LSD, and everything she sees now is an illusion."

But Colin Felson is not a person who can afford lsd, and of course, he can't afford it.

Somebody helped him.

Lestrade frowned. "Who did she see? Dad?"

Sherlock looked calm, "She's an orphan, an American, maybe she has some more interesting little secrets about her, well, Lestrade, I'll leave her to you."

Lestrade took the slender girl from Sherlock's hands. The girl changed her arms, looked at Lestrade blankly for a while, and then hugged Lestrade crying: "Father... ..."

Lestrade: "...How long will this situation last?"

Sherlock sneered: "Four hours at the fastest, if it is slower, you may not be able to sleep tonight."

Lestrade: "..."

Sherlock walked out of the apartment, knowing very well that the little girl who called everyone Daddy would be looking for him soon.

It seems that these days will not be boring, the girl from the United States will surprise him, this is Sherlock's intuition, and the reason why Sherlock didn't throw the girl who called his father out.

But Sherlock, who is calm on the surface, is not so calm in his heart.

Sherlock: It's hard to understand, am I that old? ? ?She should meet Mycroft! !

By the time Enid regained consciousness, six hours had passed.

Those familiar and beautiful worlds are fragmented, revealing the palest reality.

Dad ran away from home a long time ago, and Enid was an orphan long ago, and now she is alone.

Enid was lonely for a while, until Lestrade asked her if she remembered what happened when the crime happened, Enid's memory valve opened...

Then Enid kept the same expression for three consecutive 10 minutes: ━Σ(Д|||)━

What did she do before...

Dear dad, I'm sorry for you! ! !

A certain father: life must be a little green.

She spent an hour convincing herself not to make a fuss about using backtracking magic to go back in time because of such a shameful thing, not to mention that six hours had exceeded the limit that backtracking magic could use.

And this is a strange England, Enid can't indulge in the shameful past.

Because Enid was injected with LSD, she had to stay in the hospital to observe the situation, testify and investigate the case. After Lestrade briefly asked Enid, he stopped disturbing her rest.

Molly Kelly's case also happened in the UK, should she stay here and investigate?

Enid vetoed the idea in a flash.

Fuck Molly Kelly!Fuck justice!England is horrible I want to go back to Gotham!

Enid got off the hospital bed and pulled out the injection needle in her hand. At the same time, the door of the ward was pushed open.

It was a strange man who came to visit. He was wearing an elegant brown suit and holding a bouquet of white lilies, like a friend who came to visit an old friend.

He has a distinctive temperament, which can remind people of many identities.

Professor, scholar, white-collar worker, or more unusually, military strategist, schemer.

He put the flowers on the table, then looked at Enid, and sighed: "Molly, you make me very distressed."

Enid looked confused: This development of the plot made me feel the malice of God.