[Comprehensive English and American] Please speak human words

Things are not always what they've seen, the first appearance deceives many. The intelligence of afew perceives what the 'scarefully been hidden

The appearance of things is not credible, most people are often deceived by appearances, only a few wise men can perceive the hidden truth

"Ding--"

Her mobile phone vibrates frantically.

Gloria noticed that Mr. Holmes' face had grown darker.

Hey, who on earth suddenly called her to harm her?

"Doctor Lecter?" Gloria decided to take back what she just said, how could Dr. Lecter harm her~

But she was a little surprised by the call from the other party. It might not be five o'clock in the morning in Maryland.

The silent Mr. Holmes guessed from her tone that the caller might be her former psychiatrist, but how could he hear a hint of... obsession?

The voice of Dr. Hannibal Lecter on the other side of the phone was still bewitching and deep, which made people trust for no reason, "Leah, good morning, how is the morning in England?"

Gloria looked at Sherlock and smiled, "It couldn't be better."

Hannibal stood in front of the French windows with the curtains tightly closed. He stretched out his bony and slender hands and opened the dark curtains. Outside the window was the dawn that was gradually turning white, "It seems that you will not return to Maryland to accompany me in a short time It's dinner."

He meant the normal dinner, and the poor little girl left him no desire to tease.

Gloria could almost imagine the damned charming abstinence on Dr. Lecter's face when he uttered the words blankly, "—is it supposed to be five in the morning in Baltimore?"

Dr. Lecter must not have had much sex after waking up so early to call her a former patient!

It's a pity, he's obviously charming as hell, with those long legs and waistline - Gloria, hold on, you're Mr. Holmes' fan girl now.

Life is hard, especially when you have two men in your life who are ascetic and charming, with bewitching voices.

There was a faint smile on Hannibal's face. If Gloria was in front of him now, she would probably feel that Dr. Hannibal Lecter can give people a sense of trust with just a smile, "I just want to confirm with you The candidate for the new psychiatrist, I think he will be better than me at making you trust."

"I don't think so," Gloria disagreed with Hannibal's point of view, "I have been your patient since I was 12 years old, and there is no other psychiatrist in the world who is as beautiful as you." The long legs and beautiful waist make people feel sleepy—"

Come on, she forgot that Mr. Holmes was sitting opposite.

Hey, what to do, Mr. Holmes' expression is terrifying.

Gloria coughed lightly, and said to the phone under Sherlock's menacing gaze, "—I want to tell my heart after reading it."

"If you consider this item, there is indeed a good candidate." Hannibal picked out a document from the small table cabinet by the window, "Professor Moriarty."

"He came from a good background, received an excellent education, and had extraordinary talents in the fields of psychology and mathematics. When he was 20 years old, he published a paper on two theories, which became popular in Europe." Hannibal thoughtfully expressed She analyzed, "Although he is only 32 years old and has not very rich experience in psychological counseling, in terms of his achievements in psychology, he is the best candidate, and—"

Hannibal is obviously very aware of Gloria's preferences, "His appearance is also the most outstanding among many candidates."

"—That's him!" Gloria replied cleanly.

Hannibal Lecter has no expression on his face: Hehe, it really is the same beauty-obsessed virtue when he proposed to him at the age of 12.

As for Sherlock, who has keen ears and heard the whole conversation between the two: Hehe, very good, very good.

And Hannibal Lecter, who was far away in Maryland, began to think about a serious question after finishing the call——

What to eat in the morning?

Not as good as Bordeaux with blood sausage, the raw material comes from an unreasonable Australian rabbit.

Back in the English country castle, Gloria is stepping up to follow behind the black-faced Holmes. She swears that she must get rid of the bad habit of not being able to speak human words to beautiful women. Sherlock Holmes makes her feel sexy as hell.

Compared with the perfect type, maybe she should temporarily give up her hobby of flirting with beauties.

Or at least until she had taken full advantage of Mr. Holmes?

Gloria should be thankful that Sherlock is not good at reading minds at this time, otherwise he might be strangled to death on the spot.

Although the blonde girl was not strangled to death by Mr. Detective for the time being, the cold violence of the other party was enough to make her uncomfortable. "Sir, you are really determined. You have ignored me for more than five hours."

Sherlock stood in the pothole left by the old elm tree after it was knocked down by lightning, watching Gloria's aggrieved expression unmoved, "Turn your head away, your face is in the way of me."

Gloria: Is that another way of saying she's stupid?

Reginald Musgrave, who returned to the manor after the district meeting, followed Sherlock's instructions and brought back a six-foot-long fishing rod. Facing Sherlock's venomous behavior towards Goldilocks, he just wanted to complain—— Why does he have a girlfriend?Are all the girls shaking M now?

For this beautiful elf girl, shivering is a disease that can be cured.

At this time, the sun was just over the top of the oak tree. Sherlock's posture seemed effortless, but with a disapproving poke, he inserted the end of the fishing rod into the soft ground. Gloria instantly remembered Mr. Holmes He is good at boxing and western swords, and is proficient in Barton's martial arts.

Hey, hey, the high force value is so charming.

Sherlock followed the shadow of the fishing rod to measure the length, and his steps were standard, like the strictest ruler.

"The shadow is nine feet long," he said.

And the following calculation is as simple as the arithmetic of British elementary school students. The projection of nine feet from the length of the pole is six feet, and the projection is 64 feet when the height of the tree is 96 feet. Measured along the direction of the shadow of the fishing rod, it almost reaches the root of the wall of the manor.

Gloria walked beside Mr. Holmes, perfectly interpreting a useless assistant next to a genius detective. She comforted herself, it doesn't matter, she is mainly responsible for improving appearance.

"There's a mark." Gloria looked at Sherlock, and Mr. Detective also found the tapered hole less than two inches away from where he measured.

Sherlock glanced at the well-behaved blonde girl, "It's the mark left by the butler Brunon, and we are following his old path."

"Give me the phone," he ordered.

Gloria fumbled into the pocket of his trousers with ease, and of course she would never miss the occasion of rubbing oil on his thigh. She took out the BlackBerry from Sherlock's pants, and opened the compass page thoughtfully.

Reginald Musgrave, another dead man: Why do you suddenly think that these two seem to be a good match?Am I on drugs?

Sherlock fixed his position with a compass, and according to the records of the Musgrave etiquette, he walked [-] steps north along the wall of the manor. Gloria took the opportunity to grab his hand and grabbed it tightly. He showed an extremely sweet smile.

She likes to smile at him, and she likes it for no reason.

Sherlock led her ten steps eastward, and Musgrave, who exuded the fragrance of a single dog, walked four more steps southward when he saw the transnational dog abuse couple, and then he arrived outside a very old manor building.

Compared with the main building of the castle built in the [-]th century where they lived last night, the old building in front of them almost makes people doubt that it might have been born in the Stuart Dynasty in the [-]th century. After taking four steps, they came to the corridor paved with stone slabs.

The setting sun in the afternoon illuminated the passageway. Although the gray stone slabs on the passageway were old, they were firmly cast together with cement. They must have not been moved for many years, and there were no holes or cracks under the stone slabs.

Error in reasoning?

Gloria dismissed the idea instantly, don't make trouble, how could Mr. Holmes make a mistake.

Sherlock felt his cohabitant's arms hug him more tightly, and he looked at Reginald Goldfish Musgrave, "Where's the basement?"

He continued, "'Just below', the ceremony mentioned that it is just below. Since it is not going to be excavated, there is naturally a basement."

Musgrave was reminded by the detective that there was a basement under the long-abandoned building. "There is indeed one, as old as this house, down there."

The descendants of the nobles led the two down the winding stone steps. There was even a lantern on the old wooden barrel in the corner. Gloria saw Mr. Holmes find a match from his trousers.

Although she couldn't figure out why a person with a nicotine patch would carry matches with him, it didn't matter, he was Mr. Holmes, and everything he did was always right, Gloria True Girl Rockefeller thought so.

The moment the lantern was lit, Sherlock knew that this was exactly the place they were looking for, and that someone had been here in the past few days.

After it was abandoned, it was used as a warehouse for stacking wood, and now those random short logs have been neatly piled up on both sides, leaving an open space in the middle of the basement.

There was a rusty iron ring in the center of a large heavy stone slab in the clearing. Musgrave saw the thick black and white checked scarf wrapped around the iron ring and exclaimed, "That's Brenton's scarf. I can swear I saw him wear it. This scarf. The villain has been here!"

"I said you will be cheated out of your wealth sooner or later." Sherlock seemed unable to bear Mr. Musgrave's surprise, "Look at your bewildered face. Stupid people are blessed with stupidity. I really envy you."

Gloria: Although Mr. Holmes doesn't look very kind, Mr. Musgrave does look a bit stupid. Did he study at Oxford relying on the charm of the pound?

...Poison tongue can be contagious.

Sherlock grabbed the scarf and lifted the slate vigorously, and Gloria patted Musgrave on the shoulder and ordered, "Go and help him."

Hmph, why do you ask my Mr. Holmes to do physical work? Are you standing here as a decoration? !

Musgrave: It's great to have boyfriends and girlfriends!

Sherlock moved the heavy stone slabs aside, revealing a dark hole-like cellar. Musgrave knelt beside the cellar, and poked a lantern into it to look.

The cellar was about seven feet deep and four feet square, and on one side stood a low wooden box with brass hoops, the lid of which was open, and an oddly shaped old-fashioned key stuck in the lock.

Gloria saw that there was a thick layer of dust on the outside of the box, and moths and damp erosion were about to wear the wooden boards to pieces. She could observe that the wood fungus was covered with blue-gray wood, and there was nothing in the wooden box except for some old coins from the era of Charles I. other.

"Ah." She whispered without warning, her voice was not loud, but Sherlock had already pulled Gloria into his arms at the same time, and he could even hear the girl's rapid breathing in the dark cellar.

Musgrave, who was belatedly aware of it, followed the line of sight of the two of them, and was so frightened by the scene in front of him that his face paled and he took a few steps back. A man in black was curled up next to the wooden box.

His forehead was pressed against the side of the box, and his arms were holding the box in a strange posture.This posture made all the blood in his body condense on his face, and no one could recognize who this distorted, liver-colored face was.

However, according to Musgrave's description of Brunon's characteristics, Sherlock has been able to confirm that the deceased is indeed the missing butler.

He had been dead for a few days, but there was no wound on his body, and Sherlock spoke his conjecture to Musgrave, who was puzzled.

"Brenton found this place accurately after he learned that there was a treasure hidden here. Of course, this was thanks to you foolishly telling him the height of the old elm tree."

"When he found the cellar, he found that the stone slab was too heavy to be moved by himself, so he found an assistant inside the manor. The Welsh girl who was abandoned by him and loved him was obviously the best candidate. But to uncover this Slate, for the two of them, and one of them is a woman who is recovering from a serious illness, it obviously makes them too strenuous." Sherlock picked up a few logs about three feet long from the short logs scattered around on the ground. There are also some cracks on the sides of the wood that have been flattened by something quite heavy. "Obviously, while they were lifting the slabs up, they stuffed the wood into the gap until the gap was wide enough for one person to pass through, and then vertically Put a piece of wood up against the slab so it doesn't fall down. The weight of the slab is all on the log, making it rest on the edge of the other slab, so the end where it hits the ground creates these notches."

Gloria asked from his arms, "So Brenton went into the cellar and handed over the treasure from the stone cave, and the girl was in charge of responding on top, maybe the wood slipped by accident, and the stone slab fell by itself, knocking Brendon down. Dunguan died in the grave she dug herself, her fault was just concealing the truth and not reporting it?"

Sherlock didn't refute her, but chose to add other possibilities, "Or in the anger of being abandoned, she pushed the wood away and let the stone slab fall back to the hole."

Before Gloria's eyes, it seemed that a woman grabbed the treasure and ran desperately up the winding stairs, ignoring the muffled shouts from behind and the sound of her hands beating the slate crazily. A slab of stone suffocated her hapless lover.

No wonder she was freaking out the next day.

"Except for the ancient metals and crystal stones that she salvaged from the lake and were destroyed by her, what else is in the box?" Musgrave stood by the cave, his gaze swept across the wooden box.

Sherlock held a coin from the era of Charles I between his slender fingers, "Where is the bag that was fished out of the lake?"

"In the study," replied Musgrave.

The afternoon sun in the study room fell on the dark wooden table. Musgrave casually dumped the tattered metal in his pocket on the table. Sherlock wiped the almost black metal products with his sleeve. Glittering like sparks, the metal products that were broken into several pieces were in a double ring shape, but they had been bent and twisted, and they were no longer in their original shape.

"After the death of King Charles I, the Royalists fought armed resistance in England, and when they fled they may have buried many of the most valuable treasures. Your ancestor Sir Ralph Musgrave was in the time of Charles I. A member of the famous royalist party, he was also the right-hand man of Charles II during his exile." Sherlock looked at the metal in his hand and said calmly, "This is indeed a priceless relic."

"What the hell is it?" demanded Musgrave.

Gloria seemed very interested, "Emperor Stuart's crown?"

"crown?!"

Sherlock hadn't bothered to sneer at the stupid nobleman, "Think about the ceremonial words with your rubbish mind, 'Whose is it? It's the one who's gone.' It's obviously referring to Charles I being executed, 'Who should Got it? The one who's coming.' This, of course, refers to Charles II."

"Then why didn't Charles II come to pick up the crown after returning home?" Musgrave carefully put the relic back into the linen bag.

Sherlock smiled, his handsome and classic silhouette had an indescribably charming taste.

"This may be the puzzle that we will never be able to solve," he said.

On the car Sussex returned to London, the driver was still the part-time waiter Barbett, Gloria pressed her face to Mr. Holmes' gay purple shirt, "Musgrave is probably busy Dealing with the law—to preserve the crown that should have belonged to the Jolly King."

Mr. Holmes' gorgeous and deep voice sounded, "—do you admire Charles II?"

"He was a great king," Gloria continued, "but my favorite member of the British royal family is Princess Margaret."

Sherlock frowned, "Beautiful but rebellious?"

Beloved as a child, admired as a jewel in the palm of his hand, it was almost regarded as a royal disgrace afterwards.

"Because of the similarity," Gloria stared up at him, "she fell in love with a 17-year-old man when she was 32."

Her lips were very close to him, "Maybe that guard officer is just one of her emotional experiences, but the one I met is probably the only true love in my life."

Sherlock's deep-sea-like green eyes were full of waves, "——beloved?"

"Yes, you are the only reason I continue to believe."

Love is a dangerous disadvantage, Sherlock still flashed this sentence in his mind when he bowed his head.

but--

How did their lips come together?