[Comprehensive] Jasmine became the queen bee

"Deductive method is a way of thinking and a mode of thinking. The important thing is that it requires a great mind, as well as a lot of experience and practice. So, John, you ask me how to improve my reasoning ability, I am afraid I can't answer this Questions, like I can't answer why there are fingers in the refrigerator, this doesn't need an answer. However, to encourage you, I can tell you that I didn't make fewer mistakes as a teenager, in fact, made mistakes all the time, but this That didn't stop me humiliating every jerk like Sebastian Wilk in college."

——Excerpt from "Interview with Sherlock Holmes"

Raymond blew his whistle and waved his hand, "It's over."

So he watched his people collapse on the ground one by one, and there were wailing and screaming one after another on the court.

These girls!

"Don't be a coward! Stand up for me." He kicked a few people, but there was no response.

They are like dying fish, gasping for air.

Raymond had no choice but to secretly scold these Luthers in his heart, and walked to the side of the court by himself.

Speaking of which, just walking around, his legs are a little weak now.

But that doesn't change the nature of those cowards, does it?

Raymond chatted with James on the edge of the court, who was also the main force of the football team.

A cheerleading girl came running to tell him that Eleanor had been picked up by her mother.

He nodded to show that he knew that the training was indeed a bit long this time, and El had to go home by a fixed time every day.

"Well, and Jessica, she said she's leaving first."

what? !

Jessica actually convinced her mother to leave him alone!

Got tricked by his sister again.

Once again Raymond felt his teeth itch and rage.

Jessica has not been as irritable as before recently, and even her parents have been deceived by her.Obviously he is the brother!

"I can give you a ride." James offered.

Raymond looked at James enviously, he already had his own car.

"No, I'll tell Ollie."

He waved his hand to say goodbye to James, took a quick shower and changed his clothes, and when he was about to leave, he suddenly thought of something.

He ran to the other side of the playground annoyed.

*************************************

This dance studio is on the far west side of the building.

He usually leaves half an hour later than other students, but this is the first time he stays so late.He lingered for a long time in the empty corridor on the second floor. There was a mass bloody incident here, and the traces left were very interesting.

At the end of the corridor was an old-looking room with a new lock on the door, but it wasn't locked.

He pushed open the door.

There were subtle scratches on the floor, very regular, and at most there were nearly 20 people doing the same movement - if he guessed correctly, it was ballet.The thickness of the dust on the handlebars and windowsills, it has been abandoned for nearly two years.The school hasn't had a ballet class in the past five years, and the scale of [-] people can't be self-practice. It can only belong to the previous ballet club, and now they have moved to the basement.Not more than a week ago, a new literature and poetry club was established here.

This is the conclusion he got from looking around the room.

It's just that he doesn't know that there is a literature club in the school?Or a reading club?

At this time, the sun had already set in the west, and the room was gradually engulfed by darkness inch by inch.He returned to the door, fumbling for the light.

The door opened suddenly, and a black figure flashed in. Seeing someone inside, he took a step back in fright.

"You're... Samuel, aren't you?"

He turned on the light and saw the football captain looking at him with some surprise, his hair was wet, he was panting loudly, he had obviously run over from the other side of the field - he didn't even need to look at his shoes, they were casually flung on The backpack on his shoulder smelled like locker room paint.

"If you're talking about me, then no, I'm not Samuel," he responded.

The soccer captain seemed to have forgotten how he was holding on to his collar.

"Of course I'm talking about you," the football captain seemed amused, "Is there anyone else here? Speaking of which, how did you get in?"

"You forgot to lock the lock," he said curtly.

"Okay," the football captain shrugged, "how do you know I forgot to lock the door?"

He wondered if the football captain really wanted to know the answer to that question, but he answered it anyway.

"This practice room has not belonged to any club for the past two years, and no more than two people visit here at an average monthly frequency. The floor of about two square meters in the northwest corner has been wiped, and the chair has been moved from the corner to the In the middle, the lightbulb has been changed, and there is a copy of A Midsummer Night's Dream on the windowsill, all during the same week, and all by the same man. This man is no taller than five feet eight, a smoking habit, light brown Short hair, only sneakers, basically out here after school, except today—I think it’s you.”

For a moment, he felt that the football captain was going to get angry.

Maybe he was wrong.

"How do you know all this? You shouldn't be hiding somewhere secretly, right?" the football captain looked around and said suspiciously.

What a stupid question, there's clearly no hiding place here.

"Obviously, there is a new scratch on the floor, weighing no more than two kilograms, pointing from the pile of chairs to below the overhead light. There are two footprints between 6.5 and 7 yards on the chair surface, and the height is [-] feet [-]. Between five feet nine..."

"Wait," the football captain stared and opened his mouth, looking so stupid, "You mean you can see everything that happened here through the traces?"

"Not exactly, and..." Habitual movements, behavioral patterns...but he was interrupted again.

"You're a goddamn genius!" the football captain said aloud, his voice a little hoarse. "But there's one thing you're getting wrong. I'm five foot nine."

The football captain said it so naturally, as if he really thought he was five-foot-nine.

He frowned in his heart, guessing that it should be self-psychological hypnosis to maintain his dominance in a highly competitive team.

"This is really something, something." The football captain continued, the daze on his face was replaced by excitement, "I mean, you are a genius, like a detective in a novel or something."

"Of course I'm a genius, and the only way you don't come across as an idiot is by not shouting, getting overexcited, interrupting me."

The football captain suddenly burst into loud laughter.

He considers himself to be a man with a great sense of humor, but when he talks about something seriously, such a response makes him feel like he is being laughed at.

"Hahaha, cough cough..." The football captain even choked on himself.

idiot.

"While I feel like I should be offended, I don't know why this is all so funny, maybe I have Stockholm Syndrome like Jesse...what the hell, I mean, look, you're immodest Genius! When I first saw you, I thought you were dumb..."

Having said that, the football captain scratched his damp hair, looking a little embarrassed.

Under the circumstances at that time, he didn't want to beg for mercy, or make unnecessary threats.

He's going to hit it straight.

And it is not necessary for the football captain to know.

"Speaking of which, I want to say that last time, you know, in the bathroom, it was my fault, I made a mistake. Jessica said you didn't follow her, and I asked Kevin again, He said you were a monster, but would never bother anyone."

After he finished speaking, he shrugged again, spread his hands and said, "So, you can get closer to Jessica... I guess."

Kevin, the brawny freckled boy, had embezzled funds and falsified records, and it wasn't until he found out that Kevin gave up on the silly shenanigans.

"Anyway, I'm sorry, Samuel..."

"My name is Sherlock."

"Er—well, Sherlock, I'm sorry, so," the football captain took a few steps closer to him, looking up at him—definitely not five foot nine—"can you keep this a secret for me? I'm Say, temporarily? As you may have guessed, I secretly set up a drama club..."

What a surprise. Isn't "A Midsummer Night's Dream" a sonnet?

"No one knows yet, not even Al. I keep saying that I was punished by Mr. Elliott to clean the classroom-in fact, I did clean this classroom."

"I'll keep it a secret." He's always been a good keeper of secrets, and a lot of people's secrets are safe with him. "But I beg to differ on the statement that you cleaned this classroom, you spent most of the time..."

The football captain reached out and patted him on the shoulder before he could react.

All doing backflips, jerking the handlebars, and breathing on windows.

"Great, brother." The football captain patted him heavily on the shoulder, and tried to wrap his arms around his neck, but he gave up due to the difference in height. "Guess what, I quite like you, don't worry in the future, I will cover you. I remember that Kevin always had trouble with you before, and I will warn him to stay away from you..."

"It's not necessary anymore."

"Hey, I guess you must have discovered some of his secrets, too?" The football captain grinned, "Kevin, that bastard, you won't hit him with which girl? Or two girls? I Got it, he must be buying 'good things' for others!"

He shook his head. For the football captain himself, the truth was much worse than that.

"I should do you a favor too, for the sake of keeping a secret for me, what do you want? Maybe you can join the football team and be a goalkeeper, your height is just right! Maybe your genius mind can predict The way the ball went, it was perfect."

"I appreciate your invitation, but I have to decline, I don't like football."

Group sports are a kind of torture to him.

"What? There are still boys in England who don't like football? Don't tell me you don't even like watching football games!"

"If passing by a TV or radio playing a game doesn't count, I don't watch it."

"If so what do you like?"

If it is sports, he likes boxing and fencing, but his mother has not agreed to his request to learn fencing.He also likes to observe people, anyone, and sort out the messy clues into hard facts. Each fact attracts everyone with different needs and thoughts, and he will find the most crucial one. Flick the line, and watch everyone related to it get flustered and run around in a panic... However, this kind of opportunity does not always exist, and more often, he can only submerge himself in some campuses In the trifles of jealousy.

Even so, he needs practice, a lot of practice.

He didn't want to make another mistake like that.

"I like to observe," he said, "people."

"Okay," the football captain touched his nose, "sounds a little scary, but I'll get someone to watch it for you."

"It's not necessary." Even though he felt that it was difficult for most people to communicate, he had to say that the football captain's ability to understand was a disaster.

"Maybe you can come to some parties, there are a lot of people there." The football captain winked at him.

He thought about it, maybe it would be interesting.

"It's not a bad idea."

"That's it. By the way, are you and Jessica familiar?"

It was his sister, the blue-eyed Jessica.

"Brown hair, blue eyes, and a mole about two inches below the neck from the base of the ear. If it's this Jessica, I don't know her."

"What?" The football captain looked stunned again, "Is this the way a genius remembers a person? Where does the mole grow? The conclusion is that you still don't know him?"

"Names are useless, unrecognizable and lacking in potential information, I usually choose to delete. Remembering a person should remember the characteristics that best reflect the habitual behavior of the person, such as Jessica, she used to lie on her left side, and her arm was injured. The probability of scars is 30.00%, the bottoms are no more than four inches above the knee, the heels are no lower than 5 cm, there is a habit of dieting and exercising, never take notes in class, and I like literature more than history.”

This time he was not interrupted, because the football captain was stunned for several seconds before he could react.

"For a moment I wanted to believe that you were really a stalker, but the injury to her arm happened when she was a child. There is no scar, so you can't know." He was amazed, "You know? I almost wanted to I fought you for Jessica's honor... but do you remember everyone so clearly? Even people who claim not to know?"

"Not everyone. Memories will decay over time, and I will choose to delete the useless ones before decaying and leave the valuable ones. But the time since the last meeting is very short, and these are still in my mind."

The football captain was still admiring himself.

But he knows that's not the whole reason.

He thought of the last time he saw Jessica, it was the second time they met, she pulled her skirt from time to time, and it was this movement that made him stop, waiting for an opportunity to take a closer look.

The first time he met Jessica, she tried to be calm, but was actually flustered the whole time, even so, she never showed any discomfort with her body being exposed.

Judging by the degree of skin discoloration caused by ultraviolet rays, she had been wearing bottoms no higher than four inches above her knees for at least three years, and such a person should not be unaccustomed to short skirts.

Is it a change in personality?Or what other reason?

All he knew was that he hadn't encountered such an interesting thing in a long time.

"Could you tell me your name if you don't mind?" Like what Richard?

"You don't even know my name!" The football captain yelled strangely, "Oh, yes, you deleted it. My name is Raymond, Raymond Harris."

"Sherlock Holmes."

"Xiali, are you going home now? Can you give me a ride?"

"...Call me Sherlock, or Holmes, please. I am going to walk home."

"Well, Sherlock, it looks like I'll have to call my parents."

"You forgot your book again. I suppose you came up in a hurry to find it."

"Ah, damn it, it is. You haven't opened it, have you?"

"...No. I'm not interested in sonnets."

"this is not……"

"I said, I'm not interested."

"Hmph, you just said that interrupting others is an idiot's performance."

Why is there always someone in the world redefining the word "unbearable" again and again.