[Zhongyingmei] The little angels of the big ones

John Watson adjusted his collar again, and then turned left and right in front of the mirror, looking pretty.

His recent little days have been pretty good.

Ever since he found out that his daughter had a special ability to "burn money", Dr. Watson has been working hard, trying to earn enough money for her daughter to spend.However, as a person who yearns for an adventurous life in his bones, an ordinary doctor position obviously cannot satisfy Dr. Watson's pursuit.

More than a month after Rosa left London, Watson couldn't hold on anymore.

"Oh, John." At that time, Sherlock, who hadn't had a royal assistant by his side for more than a month, shook the newspaper in his hand contemptuously, "How many lives are you going to save today? Let me guess." Guess, is it the homeless man who got drunk and broke his arm, or the stupid student who played too crazy and fell off the school fence?" The big detective's eyes were filled with indescribable contempt.

Watson adhered to the mentality of "I am a good father with a daughter to raise and don't care about Sherlock's childish ghost who can play with his own daughter", generously pretended not to hear, and then went to work.

Immediately afterwards, I really received an emergency call from a homeless man who was drunk and broke his shoulder.

Dr. Watson, who lifelessly gave the patient an order and asked the nurse to push it for examination, was struggling in his heart. Finally, he met the "noble man" of his life.

"Hey, you're that Dr. John Watson!" A male student who was sitting on a wheelchair and fell into the lawn from the terrace because of drinking too much at a class reunion, yelled excitedly, pointing at Watson. "Come on, everyone! He's the blogger who wrote stories for Mr. Holmes!"

Wow, more than [-] high school students rushed forward and surrounded Watson.

"Do you have Mr. Holmes' signature on you, Dr. Watson?"

"Can I take a picture with you?"

"When will Mr. Holmes be free and come to our school party? We invite him!"

"Why hasn't your blog been updated recently, we still want to read it!"

……

Amidst the twittering of a group of students, the voices of two people accurately entered Watson's ears——

"Doctor Watson, do you want to advertise your blog? I want to offer 50 yuan to advertise my French fries shop, and you can just say that Mr. Holmes likes my French fries!"

"Do you and Mr. Holmes, Dr. Watson, will your story be published as a biography?"

Right!

At that time, Watson slapped his thigh, and suddenly thought of a good way to make a fortune quickly without sacrificing his hobbies——

There is a hen that can lay golden eggs beside him!He and the hen were together every day, but neither of them thought about how to make money? !

#Sherlock·Hen·Holmes: What I need is stimulation, not money, thank you#

#John·eyes are full of money Watson: Very well, I'll see where you live when Mrs. Hudson evicts you because you can't pay the rent! #

Watson, who came up with this idea, was extremely professional. After patiently arranging the patients who needed to be received today, he threw away his white coat and ran back to Baker Street.

As an Internet celebrity blogger who can be regarded as a little red, and as a small author who once published a novel, after listening to the inspiration of two "noble people", Watson finally found his life position!

He decided to focus on being Sherlock's assistant and a side job from now on!

After listening to the request of his own roommate (cooperation proposal?), the big detective looked at Watson critically for several minutes before reluctantly agreeing to Watson's request to use a blog to record his investigation and write a biography for him (cooperation proposal?).

"Great, Sherlock." Watson had already begun to think about contacting the publisher he knew before.

The big detective waved his hands blankly, signaling the doctor not to worry.

"Ding dong", a text message - "Mr. Holmes, we did as you said. Could you please advertise my father's chip shop on Dr. Watson's blog? In addition, Jeffrey broke his leg Medical expenses..."

A remittance text message was sent silently from 221B Baker Street.

But of course, Watson didn't know that all of this was Sherlock's arrangement.

Dr. Watson, who regrouped and re-entered the position of Sherlock Holmes' assistant with enthusiasm, finally ushered in the peak of his career after adjusting his career plan——

His blog grew in popularity as his followers exploded, and his tentative biography of Sherlock's several cases sold out as soon as it was published.

At the same time, Sherlock's business has become more and more popular, and more and more clients are hovering at the door of 221B with large checks every day. The great detective Sherlock finally lived the happy life he dreamed of——puzzle every day Everyone lined up to wait for his luck.

The same big detective who made a lot of money and dismissed things like money rejected the proposal of his co-tenant to share the remuneration and advertising expenses with him. The good life of the nouveau riche.

But because he runs around with Sherlock every day, Dr. Watson really has nothing to spend money on besides ordering a few outfits for himself for TV appearances—he has no time to go out and spend money !

If you buy good clothes, you won’t be able to wear them a few times. If you buy good shoes, you will definitely be splashed with mud. If you buy a good watch, Sherlock will treat it as a worthless prop and destroy it. Finally, I made an appointment. But Watson, who had to be called to the scene of the crime temporarily because of the girl, returned to his original simple life style after experiencing the joy of a short-lived nouveau riche.

Alas, he is a hard worker!

Watson, who had a rare day off, was invited by a famous TV station in London to appear on a program today, and only then did he find out his own tailor-made suit - he would never give up wearing it when he went out with Sherlock!

Humming a song, thinking how handsome I am today, and thinking that the remuneration will arrive again, Dr. Watson, who has to remit some money to his daughter first, and then deposit a sum in her daughter's trust fund, is indulging in the narcissism of what a good father he is middle.

But before he was perfect, he suddenly received a call from his daughter.

"Rosa." The elated Watson was quite happy when he picked up his daughter's phone, "Is it not enough money? Dad will remit it to you later. What else do you want? I'll order it for you together." Finally Watson, who can openly say that your father is not short of money, always has a sense of accomplishment in spending money for his daughter.

Unfortunately, he was doomed to be disappointed today.

"Dad", the voice of the daughter on the other end of the phone sounded extremely helpless, "Did you write a thriller novel under the pseudonym Arthur King? Do you know? Now a pervert is following your story to kill me. "

"What?!"

Rosa took a sip of cold water for herself, and then recovered from her panic.

Amount drop a Mamma Mia!Someone cut off the head of that ogre Uncle Ba who thinks that everything with two feet is an ingredient and put it on a plate? !

Rosa took two deep breaths, trying to drive that terrifying picture out of her mind.

Live it!

She didn't sympathize with Hannibal at all. In fact, in Rosa's opinion, Hannibal really "deservedly died" this time—is there any ending that is more suitable for Hannibal than being made into a dish?

In Rosa's view, apparently not.

The only regret is that Uncle Ba didn't post a post on the Internet before he died?

Bad review, this keyboard man is unqualified!

"Rosa?" Steve stood beside Rosa worriedly, "Do you want to go back first?" The little girl's face was very ugly.

"No need." Rosa waved her hand, "I'm fine...it's fine." It's just a little nauseating.

"No one was found." Hochner shook his head at Captain America. As the team leader of the BAU and also the person who agreed with Rosa to meet the suspect, he lowered his head to check the status of the suspect with a bit of self-blame, "It's okay Is it?" I'm afraid that such a horrible scene will leave a big shadow on this young girl.

"I'm fine." Rosa covered her mouth, and it was fine if the boss of BAU didn't ask, but when she asked, she felt a little sick again, "I want to drink iced Coke." The cold water obviously couldn't suppress the feeling of nausea, "I I still want ice cream."

Natasha walked over and rubbed Rosa's head, "Good girl, I'll buy it for you later."

Everyone was taken back to the FBI's Manhattan office, including the restaurant's owner, chef, and waiter.

"No one has a criminal record." The person in charge of the Manhattan office shook his head at Hochner, "The boss is an art student, a rich second generation. The three chefs are classmates with him, and half of the waiters are from nearby schools. college and high school students work part-time there, and only one full-time waiter is over 25 years old, and the others are all 22 to 24. They don’t even have a speeding ticket or a drunk record.” In other words, the fall’day restaurant went from the owner to the The waiters are all rare honest people.

"It is unlikely that someone who has intelligence and physical strength and enough financial resources to plan such a case is younger than 28 years old." Reid looked at the crowd in the restaurant behind the double-sided glass and shook his head.

"We still have to check one by one." Hotchina sighed, "Start with the boss, the chef, and those who serve Rosa."

"Our surveillance video has been turned on 24 hours a day." The owner of the restaurant who was caught for no reason was a man with green hair who looked like he was an art student. "All employees have done background checks at the police station. You can check them. There may be a perverted killer sneaking in!"

Several chefs said the same thing.

"I designed that dish myself!" The chef whose work was replaced with a human head was covered in post-modern tattoos, and he was so angry, "A human head? That kind of thing appeared in our restaurant It is a tarnish to us artists! It is a contempt for the fruits of our labor!"

Others responded with the same panic and anger.

"It's very likely that the suspect sneaked into the restaurant and dropped something on the plate." Emily shook her head. These young people working in the restaurant did not meet the characteristics of a murderer at all.

"But all the surveillance cameras in the restaurant have been destroyed." Hotchina frowned with a headache.Originally, Iron Man was there, and they wanted to restore the hard disk data immediately, but who knew, the suspect actually poured sulfuric acid on the hard disk—all data was completely destroyed, let alone Iron Man, even if God was called up.

"Where's the federal prison?" Hotchner turned around and asked JJ beside him, and at the same time tapped on the double-sided mirror, indicating that Morgan could stop.

"Mr. Stark is also helping to make contact." The person in charge of the Manhattan branch took over the conversation. "It is said that Hannibal Lecter has never been found missing."

"What do you mean you don't know?" At this moment, Iron Man is sitting in the highest-standard reception room of the FBI's Manhattan office. "An important missing prisoner doesn't know?!" Is there a federal prison called Arkham? Mental hospital?

#远在 Gotham的老师: Ah Choo!Who is calling me? #

Rosa sat in her seat and stuffed the Haagen-Dazs that Natasha asked someone to bring into her mouth, "I will definitely have nightmares in the past few days." Hannibal's eyes were tight The image of staring at her has always been lingering, and the image of the bloody modified version of the "monkey brain (human brain?)" dish is always involuntarily recalled by her.

"It can't be done." Throwing down the ice cream, Rosa ran to vomit again.

"Hannibal died within an hour." Hotchner distributed the autopsy report (brain examination report?) to his team members and everyone in the Avengers. "His skull was opened with surgical-grade instruments, and the brain I was doused with hot soup." At this point, everyone felt a little queasy.

Rosa was already lying on the table with her stomach covered - she couldn't vomit anything.

"Where are the clues?" Pushing away the FBI report, Iron Man asked directly, "I give you all my satellites to deploy, and all the local resources of Stark Industries are at your disposal, now you tell I can't produce anything but an autopsy report?"

Hotchner and the head of the FBI's Manhattan office were too questioned to say a word.

"Tony..." Rosa touched the corner of Iron Man's clothes.

"Agent Hotchner, Stark is a little anxious, but I believe you can understand." Natasha smiled and took over the conversation, "I don't think it's better..."

"Bang!" The door of the conference room was pushed open from the outside.

"Yarde Hernandez", a thick folder was thrown directly on the table, "31 years old, a former senior agent of the CIA, now participating in the witness protection program under the pseudonym Martin Jackson, whereabouts are unknown."

"What?" Everyone in the room was taken aback.

"Sherlock?" Rosa got up from the table and was embraced by her father at the same time.

"What are you talking about?" Morgan asked in a daze.

"Your suspect." The dusty detective cracked the corner of his mouth, showing a half-smile expression, "It's the one who made fun of the FBI elite team and the entire Avengers, and cut off Hannibal Lecter's head." Come down and make a dish, that, suspect, suspect, criminal."

The author has something to say: Otherwise, why do you think that Juan and the doctor came so late?That's Tuhaoni's private jet, flying from London to Manhattan in minutes!