Baker Street Grocery Store [Comprehensive]

The author has something to say:

Speaking of this news that has dominated the headlines of various media websites for several days, the thing is actually like this——

A week ago, a staff member of the British embassy in the United States suddenly died at home, that’s all, but two days before his death, he officially announced that he was an opponent of a certain policy against Britain that the United States had just introduced. And he has a tough attitude, quite the momentum of the mainstay of the opposition.

This juncture, his death, is simply a sensitive point on the cusp.

In fact, this matter could have been turned into a minor matter, but the British side refused to let go, and insisted on asking the US side to give an explanation. This is very strange. Why don't you make it smaller?

The part of the political game can be ignored. Just talking about this case, in fact, the scene is clear at a glance. The deceased definitely did not commit suicide, but must have been murdered. In this case, who did it is especially important.

Why do you entrust Sherlock with this important task? Could it be that he looks very reliable?

This is definitely the funniest joke of the year.

Oh, you can't say that, Sherlock is indeed very reliable in solving puzzles, but he is very unreliable in covering up facts, which makes people who know him quite worried.

But the U.S. side is also very honest, and they have also sent a person who will not hide the facts-Carl Letterman.

"Dr. Foster," Letterman looked back at her, shrugging his shoulders in dissatisfaction, "you have been with me all day, what exactly do you want to do?"

"Don't be so alien," Foster smiled gracefully, "we're going to be in charge of the case of the British embassy together."

Letterman turned around indifferently: "I know you don't trust me and always feel that I will offend everyone present, but I still have a sense of proportion in this matter, after all, it is a serious occasion."

"Oh, you can't control your mouth no matter how serious it is, Carl," Foster complained with a smile on his face, "Don't forget that you offended people at the wedding of the North Korean presidential candidate's son over and over."

Letterman didn't take it seriously, turned around and went downstairs: "Then let's go, isn't the people from Scotland Yard arriving soon?"

That's true.

When two highly respected polygraph experts in the whole country came to the embassy, ​​they saw a group of people from Scotland Yard.These colleagues have all suffered from political games, and the atmosphere among them is not so tense, and it can even be considered quite harmonious.

After a friendly handshake and meeting, Letterman noticed a tall, curly-haired man in a long windbreaker in the opposing team. His complexion was fair, and his eyes were calm. He looked very calm, but besides the calm, there was something weird .

Sherlock had no interest in these people, and after a glance, he looked away and concentrated on investigating where the deceased worked.

The Scotland Yard police officer has long been familiar with him, and still divides the work with the FBI——

"Excuse me, Inspector Lestrade," the other police chief finally couldn't bear it, and asked in a low voice, "Who is that layman?"

Lestrade was a little helpless: "Uh...a layman? He is definitely not a layman."

It is obvious who the word "layman" refers to. At the same time, this word has successfully attracted the attention of Sherlock, who has excellent hearing. While searching for clues, he moved his mouth.

"Sheriff, I think you had a good night last night."

"What..." The sheriff didn't respond, "Sorry, what did you say?"

Lestrade reminded in a deep voice: "Sherlock!"

"Oh, that's all right," said the sheriff kindly, "I'll see what this fellow can do, too."

"..." Hehe, you will regret it.

A certain detective was not moved at all, and continued to state very quickly: "The ring finger is wearing a ring, and the marital status is married, uh..." He looked at the ring carefully, "Married for five to ten years, but the suit A little wrinkled, your wife didn't take care of the trivial matters for you, and you have a conflict in your relationship, but there are still lipstick marks on your neck..."

"Ahem," Lestrade interrupted him with a light cough, "Uh, you continue to watch the scene."

"I'm done reading," Sherlock smiled, his eyes squinted and squeezed together, the lines on his cheeks were pulled up, it was obvious that he wanted to express kindness, but obviously failed, he pulled out a card from the table, "I think we'd better go to his house to have a look at the harvest. This is the address."

Two or three meters away, Sherlock threw the small card to Lestrade, as neatly as throwing a poker card. The latter caught the card. Sure enough, there was an address on it. Sherlock continued to put his hand in his pocket , strode away: "Let's go."

All the people present watched in a daze as he walked through the crowd to the gate of the embassy.

Sherlock walked a few steps, but didn't hear footsteps, and found that no one was following him. Looking back, it turned out that the whole group was looking at him.

"Oh my God, no!" Sherlock held his forehead, "Don't you want me to explain something so obvious to you?"

The police chief who was named and analyzed just now had a tangled expression: "...obvious?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Sherlock walked back and returned to the position where he was surveying the scene just now, pointing to the messy desk of the deceased, "The desk is messy, a government agency staff will not make such a mistake, let alone Government officials working in other countries, something must have happened to artificially create this mess."

"Either someone else did it, or he did it himself. His office door is wide open, the front is facing the embassy door, and there is a lot of people coming and going, and it would be stupid for someone to mess with the desk maliciously, so it must be He messed up himself."

"Look again—"

Sherlock took a step back and pointed to the things on the table: "Does it look like you're looking for something?"

The people present were still silent, staring at him.

Sherlock opened his mouth, not knowing how to satirize the IQ of the people of this country.

"Pills!" said Sherlock emphatically. "He's looking for them, like this—"

He suddenly squatted down, lay down on the ground, picked up a pill under the desk, carefully read the words on it, and said: "Stomach disease, acute, but only this kind of medicine is not available, which means it was recently developed. Stomach trouble happened."

He paused, realized, and sighed in a low voice: "Oh... poisoned."

People present: "..." What are you talking about? ? ?Why can't I seem to understand!

The two polygraph experts who had been on the sidelines admired it, and Letterman even smiled, and turned to Foster and said; "His expression is impeccable, his eyebrows are raised, his speech speed is fast, and his eyes are rolled from time to time. Look, it's simply It's a textbook show off!"

Foster pursed his lips, and seemed to be holding back a smile: "...you keep your voice down, he heard you."

"I'm not afraid he'll hear it," said Letterman calmly. "He's still asking me to take him to the dead man's house."

Foster paused: "Why do you—"

"Look," Letterman said, tilting his head slightly in Sherlock's direction, and turning to Foster, "here he comes."

Sherlock walked up to him, slightly lowered his head to look at the middle-aged uncle in front of him, and asked in a low voice, "Look at me, did I lie?"

Foster blinked amusedly.

Letterman looked at the muscles on Sherlock's face and shook his head: "No."

Sherlock raised his eyebrows: "Thank you for your confirmation, Dr. Letterman." He held out his hand, "I am Sherlock Holmes."

Letterman shook him back: "Understood, Mr. Holmes."

"Can we go to this place?" He didn't know where to get the card and handed it to Letterman, "I'm new here, I don't know the way."

Letterman thinks this young guy is very interesting. He is clearly repulsed by people thousands of miles away, but he is pure and can be seen through at a glance, especially when he is proudly explaining the scene, he is in high spirits.

Oh, of course it's not the usual high spirits, compared to his previous indifferent expression, he's already quite high spirited.

The two left the group of people who were stunned in place and walked away directly.

The sheriff was stunned: "Dr. Foster, they..."

"Send someone to go with them," Dr. Foster said politely. "I don't know that Mr. Holmes, but Dr. Letterman won't do such inexplicable things. He must have discovered something."

How is it possible - Carl Letterman's ability to offend people is similar to that of Mr. Sherlock Holmes.

It is conceivable that when Dr. Letterman was young, he must also have this dead look of "I love whoever I am, I am the best".

The two people in the car hurried to their destination, and Letterman took a moment to ask, "Why did you let me drive you?"

"You look smarter." Sherlock said bluntly.

Letterman glanced at the people in the back seat through the rearview mirror, and admired again—it was this textbook-style showing off expression again, and he almost wanted to take a picture of it and use it as a teaching template.

When the two rang the doorbell and entered the deceased's house, they heard a woman crying with snot and tears...

"I very much hope that the country can help my husband find the real culprit!" She choked up and broke down in tears. "He loved Britain and the Queen very much, but he died in a foreign country unexpectedly."

"Ma'am, don't worry, we will do our best." A familiar voice sounded.

Sherlock entered the room, took a few steps forward, and the leather shoes kicked on the ground, causing the two people in the living room to stop communicating.

The familiar figure stood up, turned his head, smiled, and said hello without any embarrassment.

Sherlock hooked a smile: "Hi, ma'am, I'm a detective following the Scotland Yard police."

The lady wiped away her tears hesitantly: "Hello..."

Sherlock gestured to the woman next to him: "This is?"

"It's my husband's lawyer," said the lady, after a moment's pause, and introduced, "Mrs. Holmes."

Tsk...it's all a trick.

Mrs. Holmes didn't look embarrassed at all, and said with a smile, "Hello, dear, we meet again."

Letterman, who was watching attentively from the sidelines, almost laughed out loud. It was wonderful to follow Mr. Holmes. Besides the textbook showing off, look what happened now?

It's a textbook lie!

The author has something to say:

Clara (proud face): When my old lady wandered around the rivers and lakes, she always reported Holmes' name!

Still not fixed!