[Comprehensive] Sherlock's Secret

It was already evening when Fu returned to his apartment on Four Maple Street, and the information he received from Calactacus Burke was mixed, and some things he himself said were very vague, obviously out of some kind of fear Even though Voldemort has disappeared for 13 years, the shadow he left on the wizarding world, the shadow of countless wizards lingering under his black wings - cannot be eliminated no matter how long it takes.

Because the cake shop is privately run, the management is relatively flexible, so she told the shop manager that she was not feeling well and had to go to the hospital, so she took a half-month long vacation - but she didn't get paid, and she might have to be busy in the following days , Going to find Dumbledore can only pass at night.

She let out a long sigh, took a box of yogurt from the refrigerator and put a straw in it, and just took a sip, when there was a loud noise outside the door, she went to the door and took a look at the cat's eyes... This look Unfortunately, Sherlock Holmes was standing outside the door, and a few workers from a moving company were moving boxes of things to the house opposite her.

hiss--

She clearly remembered that her neighbor was the amiable Mrs. Elevens, but she turned into Mr. Holmes within less than three days?

God fuck.

Just as she was about to open the door to ask what was going on, she bit the straw between her teeth and stopped again.

Oh, she's not at home now.

Su Fu turned around and drank the yogurt, took off his wizard robe and headgear and threw them into the washing machine, changed his clothes, took a shower, closed the bedroom door, and went to bed.

She got up early the next morning, packed up and went to the cake shop. Miss Isabella at the front desk asked her if she was feeling better. Su Fu felt that the weather today was really good.

And not long after she went out, the anti-theft door opposite the door suddenly opened, and Sherlock walked out with his slippers, and went straight to knock on the door of Su Fu's house.

However... still no one came to answer the door.

Sherlock yawned, walked back slowly, and glanced at the phone.

Very good, the text message still has not been answered.

He stood by the window and looked out—there is a tree-lined road downstairs, and mid-autumn has arrived, and the two rows of maple trees in full swing beside the road have begun to wither, but the trees are thick and vigorous, which shows that they have grown for a long time.

This apartment has also existed for a long time.

He checked the records and found that it has a history of more than 40 years. The house he lives in has had three owners before and after. The last one is his landlord Mrs. Elevens, who has lived here for 17 years.

The owner of the house opposite him is a woman named Wen Gewei Leichter, but there is very little information about her, and the current occupant——Sue Frank, rented it two years ago and has been living there until now.

Also two years ago, he moved to London from Cambridgeshire.

When he started working as a detective, Sue Frank, a broadcast journalism graduate from the University of Sheffield, applied for a job as a radio presenter.

But soon after she changed another job - the editor of a children's magazine.

In the next six months, she changed jobs twice, both of which were related to her major.

Jobs changed frequently, but—none of them were the one he thought she should be in.

Confusing.

Later, she switched to Star Entertainment as an entertainment reporter. In the same year, Sherlock solved a "leading actress drowning case" at the Seth Le Opera House and met Sue Frank for the first time.

The reason why she was noticed was not because she was the youngest and most beautiful among all the reporters, but because——

All the reporters stayed away from the scene of the crime—that is, the waiting room where the dead body was buried—and rushed to interview other actors and theater managers of the crew. He lifted the shroud and took a look.

A drowned woman was discovered after one night. It was still summer, her body was pale and blue, her wide-open eyes were swollen and protruding, and the whites of the eyes were bloodshot, and her dark purple lips were half-opened and half-closed, revealing The coming throat is like a gloomy black hole.

It's not very pretty.

And when she stood up, she just smiled, looked around the room and no one was paying attention, and then walked out of the lounge.

Met Sherlock at the door.

She squinted her deep eyes and smiled, "Hello, Mr. Detective."

A month later, he saw her again when he went to the laboratory of Dr. Lance in Barts Hospital, and knew her identity. She was the distant cousin of the doctor's assistant Jasmine Amber, who had just graduated and had only come to London for nearly two years.

He often went to Dr. Edmond Lance's laboratory, so he met her a few times, and she was always friendly to him, but she always behaved very ordinary.

Until she suddenly moved to Baker Street for no reason - and moved away for no reason.

Gradually, there were old people walking their dogs on the boulevard. Sherlock turned around and walked to the balcony of the bedroom, which was connected to the kitchen balcony opposite his door. If he turned over the window, he could enter her home.

He began to think about the possibility that if she was not at home at this time, he would turn over and investigate without being discovered by her.

==

"Su, can you lend me your mobile phone? I'm in arrears."

"In the left pocket, I have cream in my hand, take it yourself—"

"Okay," Isabella pulled out her mobile phone and reminded her when she returned the call, "You have several unread text messages."

"Ah?" Su Fu wiped off the cream on his hands, washed his hands and took the phone to check. Sure enough, there were a lot of text messages, and they were from the same person.

She looked at them one by one, and felt that sooner or later she had to get rid of this habit of not looking at her mobile phone, so she made a direct call.

"Hey--"

Sherlock's deep and pleasant voice came from the phone: "Have you finally remembered that you still have a communication tool like a mobile phone?"

Su Fu: "..."

She said helplessly, "Didn't I tell you a long time ago that I don't often look at my phone—"

"But I can't inform you in advance that I have something to do with you, and I can't even see you."

"What's the matter?"

"it's gone now."

Su Fu: "..."

She looked at the crowd passing through the floor-to-ceiling windows, and heard her own voice very helpless: "Have you had breakfast?"

Sherlock said flatly: "No."

Su Fu thought for a moment, and said directly: "Go out, get my house key from the circuit box, and go in to find something to eat in the refrigerator."

She heard Sherlock's breathing stagnate for a moment, and then he said sharply: "How do you know?"

Su Fu patted the flour on the apron and said with a smile, "I was at home yesterday."

Sherlock: "..."

"Okay, let's go back in the afternoon and talk about it. Now go get the keys and have breakfast-don't mess with my refrigerator. The dishes can be left for me to go back and wash."

"Well..." Sherlock seemed bored, muttered and hung up the phone.

He threw the phone aside, went out and followed Su Fu's instructions, opened the circuit box, took out a bunch of keys, opened the door, and went in.

No need for him to break through the windows, no need to hide - getting into her house was easier than he thought.

But the room was surprisingly ordinary.

But it was just a sofa, coffee table and TV cabinet. There were a few pots of green plants on the window sill. The bedroom was the same as hers on Baker Street, so clean and tidy that it was almost spotless, like an uninhabited hotel.The entire wall of the study room is covered with mahogany bookshelves, but the lamp on the writing desk looks very old.

Another small bedroom next to the washroom was converted into a dark room for flushing, where a few hanging ropes were pulled, and a Leica mechanical camera was placed on the table against the wall.

Sherlock took a few slices of bread from the refrigerator and chewed, and came to the study.

There was an unfinished piece of paper spread out on the desk. It was a kind of thick parchment paper that few people would use in modern society. The pen was also strange, it turned out to be a quill pen, and even the ink was a weird violet color... ...that page seemed to be an unfinished letter, with only two or three sentences written on it.

"Dear Professor Dumbledore—I made a special trip to visit Calactacus Burke according to your instructions—"

Stop there abruptly.

Sherlock frowned and stared at those two sentences. He searched his memory and found that he had never heard of a professor named Dumbledore, which is really a weird surname.

Sue Frank is also weird and mysterious.

At this time, the weirdo Frank and Isabella were watching a news report on TV together.

It is said that the security system of Citibank in London broke down this morning. After the technician discovered it, he quickly repaired it. In less than 10 minutes, 300 million US dollars were stolen from the vault.

After seeing it, Isabella exclaimed that it was impossible, but Su Fu thought that she could do it, but the risk was a bit high.

Reporters on the TV screen chattered about the bank's historical annual profits, and exaggeratedly praised the bank's previous security work-but this was of no use, it was still breached, and depositors' money was still stolen.

The arrogant robbers even left a conspicuous graffiti on the wall of the vault, as if mocking and showing off to the bank's managers.

Su Fu looked around casually and continued to work. She was no longer interested in these mysterious cases, but she thought that Sherlock would definitely like to see such things happen.

When she went back in the evening, she knocked on the door opposite her house, and it took about half a minute for the door to open, and it wasn't Sherlock who opened the door, but his brother Mycroft.

Su Fu was surprised: "Good afternoon - isn't the government reforming the economy recently?"

The implication is that you still have time to sit here?

The author has something to say: Hey... I really dislike myself, and I am despised by Juanjuan for the speed. What can I do if the writing is slow? I am also very desperate, rolling my eyes.