[Comprehensive] Sherlock's Secret
Chapter 22 Whose body was exposed on the street
The night was dark.
Lead gray haze clouds are surging like dark tides, the wind is soft, and the stars and the moon cannot be seen.
The streets of London are as dark as a curtain, and the wind is pulling the branches and leaves of the trees on the sidewalk, and there is a whirling sound, mixed with the sound of hurried and panicked footsteps.
"Da da da……"
It was a pair of high-heeled shoes with very thin heels, nailed to the asphalt road like an awl, moaning like ghosts.
Because she is running.
Her cry echoed in the night, and a wren on the crown of the tree flew towards the sky with a strange smile.
Suddenly a muffled thunder rang out from the sky!
She was so startled that she almost jumped up, her coat hung on the bush carelessly, even the pockets were torn open, and the sundries in the pockets slid into the grass as she staggered.
In a panic, she fell into the flower bed, her high heels sprained, and she struggled to get up—the black car stopped silently beside the flower bed.
"Hand over it."
"I don't know..." She buckled the wet soil on the ground and backed away with all her strength, "I really—really don't know, I only took the necklace, I don't know—ah!"
She leaned back weakly, and fell into the rose bushes full of thorns.
The dim yellow street lights changed, and finally covered her face with an ignorant arc of light like a tulle.
That woman, her eyes were wide open, her eyes were bulging, half of her head was sunken strangely, her blond hair was tangled with bone dross and minced flesh, scorching blood washed over her pale face and bruised lips.
The wren fluttered its wings and landed again.
==
"Sherlock, have you been to Yorkshire before?"
"Yes."
"Know a couple named Whist?"
"do not know."
Su Fu sighed, thinking, you perfectly missed the chance to get closer to the truth.
Sherlock said: "Strange and ordinary people are not worth my wasting memory space to remember."
Su Fu was noncommittal, and put his messy stack of books in order.
As long as the reaper who took Sherlock's brain was killed by Stephen, Su Fu was going to go back to Four Maple Street, but McCoff asked her to stay for a while, so as to wait for the government's protection measures against mutations to be fully implemented and effective .
Su Fu directly agreed. Mycroft was worried about his younger brother's safety. Anyway, it's not a good place to stay. There is Sherlock the curly hair on Baker Street to play with, which is better than her alone.
"What are we having for dinner?" she asked.
Unsurprisingly, Sherlock said, "As you wish..."
"You are so easy to raise," Su Fu muttered, opened the refrigerator to search for ingredients, and then took a deep breath, "Who the hell told you to put this bag of fingers next to the mashed potatoes!"
Sherlock said calmly: "There is no place to put it."
Su Fu threw the bag of bloody severed fingers on the coffee table, and said coldly, "Then don't put it away!"
"Su—"
"Or carrot salad at night."
"Sue, you can't—"
"Or throw these things away at me."
In the end, Su Fu didn't know what happened to Sherlock's bag of severed fingers. In short, the coffee table was clean during dinner, not even a trace of blood.
Sherlock, who was bored after eating, lay bored on the sofa, and Su Fu, who was even more bored than him, tidied up the already neat room.
Then she sat cross-legged on the newly bought small sofa, looking out the window with empty eyes, she felt that she should find something to do.
Sherlock draws out his voice: "Boring—"
"I think I should find a job..." she mused.
Sherlock curled his long legs together: "Have all the criminals in London died! Why isn't there a serial murder case?"
"This society is so uneven in your eyes, it's terrible-what do you think of me becoming a pastry chef?"
"I need a case, I need a job!"
"No, I'm handicapped, or... the cashier?"
"You'd better be a criminal! Then use all your wits to commit a crime and get away with it, and see how many hours I can catch you!"
"Oh," Su Fu turned his head, "then you will never find me."
Sherlock stood up: "Are you sure?"
Su Fu got up and went to the bedroom: "I'm joking."
She brought out a bottle of mead, which she bought when she went to the Leaky Cauldron last time, but she never had a chance to drink it after buying it. Today, I just have to be a donkey, so I might as well have a couple of glasses.
She poured a cup for Sherlock and stuffed it in his hand: "Come on, have a taste."
"what is this?"
"Mead, surely you haven't had—"
"Sherlock! The Inspector is looking for you!" Mrs. Hudson shouted from downstairs.
Sherlock immediately dropped the glass, stood up on the sofa, jumped up and sat back down, posing for Lestrade to come in.
Su Fu stroked the edge of the glass with his fingers, then raised his head and drank it, and put away both the bottle and the glass.
"Oh Edward, what has confused you beyond comprehension—"
Su Fu corrected him: "It's Greg."
As if Sherlock didn't hear her words, his sharp eyes followed Lestrade's moving figure: "The eyes are dark and thick, I haven't slept for at least two days, I haven't shaved my beard for three days, I ate fast food sandwiches at night, fingers The nicotine traces on the phone are very heavy. I smoked at least six cigarettes today. There are traces of medical gloves on my wrists, which overlap three times. I have been to the morgue three times recently. Is there a new body coming? There must have been an argument with Anderson, Earlier—”
"Stop Sherlock!" Lestrade yelled, but seemed a little powerless, he sat on Su Fu's small sofa, "You're right, I haven't slept for three days, it's all because of that damn case……"
"Then," Sherlock folded his hands under his chin, "you should have come to me sooner."
Lestrade just wanted to thank him, but he heard him continue: "God knows my boring mind is getting rusty, if you came to me earlier, I wouldn't waste so much time, and I don't have to stay here every day to see Sue." Clean up the house, you don't know how serious her obsessive-compulsive disorder is, it's almost the same as Mycroft..."
Lestrade: "..."
I knew this guy wasn't that kind.
"Can you now talk about the damned case that's been confusing you for three days?"
"Of course, of course..." Lestrade took the teacup handed over by Su Fu, and said, "You still remember what I told you before, Erwin was looking for her husband, Taylor Elvin, who had been missing for more than a week arts--"
"Lestrade, such a case that can be solved almost without using any brains has given you trouble for three days..."
"No, no, no, Sherlock, listen to me," Lestrade raised his head and took a sip of tea, "We still haven't found him, but Mrs. Erwin, she's dead—she was murdered three days ago At the house in Lambry Gardens, a blunt object hit the back of her head, and half of her head was sunken..."
"What a common and uninspired method of murder..."
Lestrade ignored his muttering, and continued: "Two days ago, another person, Alfred Green, was also attacked. He was also hit on the head with a blunt object and died in the home.
"Well," Sherlock seemed a little interested, "Is there any more? Please continue."
"Yes—and," Lestrade swallowed, "a woman died in a small garden in the development zone, Selina Yake," he bowed slightly, and looked at Looking at Sherlock, "It's exactly the same way of death, half of her head was smashed off, and her skull was broken."
Sherlock jumped up from the sofa: "Hey! Lestrade, why didn't you come to me earlier! I guess you must have brought Mrs. Erwin's body back to the morgue by now! The scene of the crime has long since disappeared. exists..."
"Bodies can't be left in the open all the time," retorted Lestrade. "As you said, I thought it was just an ordinary murder at first, but now, three people have died by the same modus operandi, so that the People are puzzled, there is no clue at all..."
Su Fu suddenly said, "What time was Serena Yake killed last night?"
"About three o'clock in the morning."
Sherlock asked: "When was it discovered?"
"Nine o'clock this morning."
"So--"
Lestrade shrugged: "Yes, the scene is still reserved, I made a special trip to find you—"
Sherlock made a "yeah" gesture with his hands behind his back.
Su Fu couldn't help laughing.
Inspector Lestrade gave him a puzzled look, and Su Fu quickly withdrew his smile, and said solemnly: "Yes, very sad, and express our deep condolences to our victims—"
Lestrade: "..."
The author has something to say: update every day at [-] noon, fairies come to make an appointment.
Leave a message, leave a message, love you all.
Lead gray haze clouds are surging like dark tides, the wind is soft, and the stars and the moon cannot be seen.
The streets of London are as dark as a curtain, and the wind is pulling the branches and leaves of the trees on the sidewalk, and there is a whirling sound, mixed with the sound of hurried and panicked footsteps.
"Da da da……"
It was a pair of high-heeled shoes with very thin heels, nailed to the asphalt road like an awl, moaning like ghosts.
Because she is running.
Her cry echoed in the night, and a wren on the crown of the tree flew towards the sky with a strange smile.
Suddenly a muffled thunder rang out from the sky!
She was so startled that she almost jumped up, her coat hung on the bush carelessly, even the pockets were torn open, and the sundries in the pockets slid into the grass as she staggered.
In a panic, she fell into the flower bed, her high heels sprained, and she struggled to get up—the black car stopped silently beside the flower bed.
"Hand over it."
"I don't know..." She buckled the wet soil on the ground and backed away with all her strength, "I really—really don't know, I only took the necklace, I don't know—ah!"
She leaned back weakly, and fell into the rose bushes full of thorns.
The dim yellow street lights changed, and finally covered her face with an ignorant arc of light like a tulle.
That woman, her eyes were wide open, her eyes were bulging, half of her head was sunken strangely, her blond hair was tangled with bone dross and minced flesh, scorching blood washed over her pale face and bruised lips.
The wren fluttered its wings and landed again.
==
"Sherlock, have you been to Yorkshire before?"
"Yes."
"Know a couple named Whist?"
"do not know."
Su Fu sighed, thinking, you perfectly missed the chance to get closer to the truth.
Sherlock said: "Strange and ordinary people are not worth my wasting memory space to remember."
Su Fu was noncommittal, and put his messy stack of books in order.
As long as the reaper who took Sherlock's brain was killed by Stephen, Su Fu was going to go back to Four Maple Street, but McCoff asked her to stay for a while, so as to wait for the government's protection measures against mutations to be fully implemented and effective .
Su Fu directly agreed. Mycroft was worried about his younger brother's safety. Anyway, it's not a good place to stay. There is Sherlock the curly hair on Baker Street to play with, which is better than her alone.
"What are we having for dinner?" she asked.
Unsurprisingly, Sherlock said, "As you wish..."
"You are so easy to raise," Su Fu muttered, opened the refrigerator to search for ingredients, and then took a deep breath, "Who the hell told you to put this bag of fingers next to the mashed potatoes!"
Sherlock said calmly: "There is no place to put it."
Su Fu threw the bag of bloody severed fingers on the coffee table, and said coldly, "Then don't put it away!"
"Su—"
"Or carrot salad at night."
"Sue, you can't—"
"Or throw these things away at me."
In the end, Su Fu didn't know what happened to Sherlock's bag of severed fingers. In short, the coffee table was clean during dinner, not even a trace of blood.
Sherlock, who was bored after eating, lay bored on the sofa, and Su Fu, who was even more bored than him, tidied up the already neat room.
Then she sat cross-legged on the newly bought small sofa, looking out the window with empty eyes, she felt that she should find something to do.
Sherlock draws out his voice: "Boring—"
"I think I should find a job..." she mused.
Sherlock curled his long legs together: "Have all the criminals in London died! Why isn't there a serial murder case?"
"This society is so uneven in your eyes, it's terrible-what do you think of me becoming a pastry chef?"
"I need a case, I need a job!"
"No, I'm handicapped, or... the cashier?"
"You'd better be a criminal! Then use all your wits to commit a crime and get away with it, and see how many hours I can catch you!"
"Oh," Su Fu turned his head, "then you will never find me."
Sherlock stood up: "Are you sure?"
Su Fu got up and went to the bedroom: "I'm joking."
She brought out a bottle of mead, which she bought when she went to the Leaky Cauldron last time, but she never had a chance to drink it after buying it. Today, I just have to be a donkey, so I might as well have a couple of glasses.
She poured a cup for Sherlock and stuffed it in his hand: "Come on, have a taste."
"what is this?"
"Mead, surely you haven't had—"
"Sherlock! The Inspector is looking for you!" Mrs. Hudson shouted from downstairs.
Sherlock immediately dropped the glass, stood up on the sofa, jumped up and sat back down, posing for Lestrade to come in.
Su Fu stroked the edge of the glass with his fingers, then raised his head and drank it, and put away both the bottle and the glass.
"Oh Edward, what has confused you beyond comprehension—"
Su Fu corrected him: "It's Greg."
As if Sherlock didn't hear her words, his sharp eyes followed Lestrade's moving figure: "The eyes are dark and thick, I haven't slept for at least two days, I haven't shaved my beard for three days, I ate fast food sandwiches at night, fingers The nicotine traces on the phone are very heavy. I smoked at least six cigarettes today. There are traces of medical gloves on my wrists, which overlap three times. I have been to the morgue three times recently. Is there a new body coming? There must have been an argument with Anderson, Earlier—”
"Stop Sherlock!" Lestrade yelled, but seemed a little powerless, he sat on Su Fu's small sofa, "You're right, I haven't slept for three days, it's all because of that damn case……"
"Then," Sherlock folded his hands under his chin, "you should have come to me sooner."
Lestrade just wanted to thank him, but he heard him continue: "God knows my boring mind is getting rusty, if you came to me earlier, I wouldn't waste so much time, and I don't have to stay here every day to see Sue." Clean up the house, you don't know how serious her obsessive-compulsive disorder is, it's almost the same as Mycroft..."
Lestrade: "..."
I knew this guy wasn't that kind.
"Can you now talk about the damned case that's been confusing you for three days?"
"Of course, of course..." Lestrade took the teacup handed over by Su Fu, and said, "You still remember what I told you before, Erwin was looking for her husband, Taylor Elvin, who had been missing for more than a week arts--"
"Lestrade, such a case that can be solved almost without using any brains has given you trouble for three days..."
"No, no, no, Sherlock, listen to me," Lestrade raised his head and took a sip of tea, "We still haven't found him, but Mrs. Erwin, she's dead—she was murdered three days ago At the house in Lambry Gardens, a blunt object hit the back of her head, and half of her head was sunken..."
"What a common and uninspired method of murder..."
Lestrade ignored his muttering, and continued: "Two days ago, another person, Alfred Green, was also attacked. He was also hit on the head with a blunt object and died in the home.
"Well," Sherlock seemed a little interested, "Is there any more? Please continue."
"Yes—and," Lestrade swallowed, "a woman died in a small garden in the development zone, Selina Yake," he bowed slightly, and looked at Looking at Sherlock, "It's exactly the same way of death, half of her head was smashed off, and her skull was broken."
Sherlock jumped up from the sofa: "Hey! Lestrade, why didn't you come to me earlier! I guess you must have brought Mrs. Erwin's body back to the morgue by now! The scene of the crime has long since disappeared. exists..."
"Bodies can't be left in the open all the time," retorted Lestrade. "As you said, I thought it was just an ordinary murder at first, but now, three people have died by the same modus operandi, so that the People are puzzled, there is no clue at all..."
Su Fu suddenly said, "What time was Serena Yake killed last night?"
"About three o'clock in the morning."
Sherlock asked: "When was it discovered?"
"Nine o'clock this morning."
"So--"
Lestrade shrugged: "Yes, the scene is still reserved, I made a special trip to find you—"
Sherlock made a "yeah" gesture with his hands behind his back.
Su Fu couldn't help laughing.
Inspector Lestrade gave him a puzzled look, and Su Fu quickly withdrew his smile, and said solemnly: "Yes, very sad, and express our deep condolences to our victims—"
Lestrade: "..."
The author has something to say: update every day at [-] noon, fairies come to make an appointment.
Leave a message, leave a message, love you all.
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