Baker Street Grocery Store [Comprehensive]

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The hostess went downstairs to prepare hot milk for Clara. At this moment, the "qualified domestic worker" praised by Sherlock returned. Sherlock glanced at him and then walked to the study. Of course, Clara Immediately afterwards, it was Dr. Lightman who became interested in the domestic worker.

When the domestic worker looked up, he saw the well-known polygraph expert walking towards him with aggressive eyes, and couldn't help but panic.

He held a timid little girl by the hand, feeling her father's momentary timidity, she hugged the domestic worker's thigh tightly.

The domestic worker stretched out a hand to caress her and comforted her: "Betty, be good."

"Hello, dear," Letterman said softly to the timid little girl, crouching down, "you look so cute. What's your name?"

Seemingly sensing the other party's kindness, Betty relaxed her guard and replied, "Betty, Betty White."

The domestic worker—or Mr. White, he seemed displeased with his daughter's credulity, pulled her behind him, and said to the little girl, "Betty, go to Mrs. Parsons."

The little girl blinked aggrievedly, twisted the hem of her skirt, turned and went into the kitchen.

Mr. White nodded slightly to Letterman, intending to leave. Of course, he would not do so easily.

"Mr. White," Dr. Letterman leaned on the sofa, "Hello, I'm Carl Letterman, and I'm here to investigate matters related to Mr. Parsons. I would like to ask you a few questions, may I?"

Mr. White paused: "The lawn in the garden still needs to be repaired..."

"I think Mrs. Parsons doesn't mind." Letterman glanced at his trembling hand. "Are you nervous? What are you nervous about? Just a few questions. Take it easy."

Letterman sat down on the sofa and motioned to Mr. White: "Please sit down, it will only take you a few minutes."

What should come can't escape...

Mr. White sighed and sat down honestly, giving people a sense of sadness that a hero died.

But the atmosphere in the study upstairs is even more tense than here——

"Sherlock, I advise you not to touch there," Clara whispered, "now... now is not the time to do such a thing!"

"Huh?" Sherlock chuckled, "Where don't you touch? Here?" He still did it mercilessly.

"what--"

Clara wailed, "My glasses! You are too much!"

Sherlock held the glasses frame in his hand and shook it: "It's nothing special, why do you care so much?"

"Those are my ancestral glasses! My mother gave them to me, can't you?" Clara snatched the frames from him in grief, and picked up the lenses from the floor.

Of course, the glasses were not given by her mother, and Clara didn't even know where her mother was.

The glasses come from the plumber team. It is said that there is a device on the frame of the glasses that can be used to record video and transmit messages, but this must be done with the help of lenses. Without the lenses, the circuit is broken.

Great, now the loop is broken.

"It can be seen that it is indeed an antique," Sherlock began to survey the study, "I touched it lightly, and the lens fell off."

"..." Clara was extremely resentful. He didn't just touch it casually. The small protrusion is a button specially used to remove the lens. If you press other places, the lens will not fall off.

How do I put this thing back together now?

Clara tried it, and finally gave up, forget it, the plumber team can't help her much anyway, she can only rely on herself.

And the plumber team below saw all of this, until the lens fell off at the end, and the picture on the monitor in the car disappeared suddenly.

"...What should we do now?" Vincent was a little embarrassed. "We can't get in touch with Clara. How can we cooperate with each other?"

Anna shook her head heavily: "I don't know..."

James was crazy, looking at the beautiful independent villa: "Tell me, what if Clara is arrested? The boss will not scold us. After all, she has been hidden by the boss, and it is rare to go abroad. Once, it turned out to be..."

"It's not possible," Vincent said dryly, "If she was caught so easily, the boss wouldn't value her so much."

Anna said contemptuously: "Vincent, are you serious? No matter how powerful a person is, they won't be able to escape in the hands of Dr. Letterman, okay? Besides, look at that Sherlock Holmes, he is not a cheap lamp!"

James covered his ears: "I don't listen!"

Clara in the villa was indeed in a near-death environment. Although she didn't know Letterman's reputation, she had already experienced how powerful he was, not to mention there was Sherlock next to her.

But as a professional agent, she still managed to get the USB flash drive, and now she is getting closer and closer to the second mission item - the bookmark.

Sherlock was still turning over Mr. Parsons' desk intently.

Letterman's interrogation is also in full swing.

"Mr. White, describe the scene on the day of the crime." Letterman leaned on the sofa, staring sharply at the obviously nervous domestic worker in front of him.

"Uh, I..." the housekeeper said, "I picked up my daughter that day, Betty went to help Mrs. Parsons in the kitchen, and I was pruning flowers in the garden..."

He said slowly: "Mr. Parsons is upstairs. He usually comes down to eat at dinner time, but that day, he didn't come down for a long time..."

"Wait a minute," Dr. Letterman interrupted him, with an inexplicable smile on the corner of his mouth, "Why do I think you, Mrs. Parsons and Betty are the same family?"

"Please show some respect!" Mr. White said loudly, "Mr. Parsons has just passed away. It is very offensive for you to say that!"

He didn't care if he took offense or not.

Dr. Letterman said: "Okay, I apologize, you can continue."

Mr. White frowned and narrated: "Because he never came down for dinner, Mrs. Parsons went upstairs to find him—" He paused, "then Mrs. Parsons screamed, and I ran up , saw Mr Parsons slumped in the study. That's how it all happened."

"Where's Betty?" Dr. Letterman asked suddenly, "Did Betty go up?"

Mr. White was uncomfortable for a moment, and immediately replied: "Betty didn't go up, it's not good for children to see such a scene."

Letterman gave a knowing smile.

Sherlock in the upstairs study also found it.

Since the study was the scene of the murder, everything was still the same as it was on the day of the crime. There was a glass of milk on the desk, all the files were open, the computer was in a sleep state, and everything looked very normal.

But there is one place that looks a little weird——

Sherlock saw a ring rolled down on the ground. This ring was a little strange. It was not an ordinary wedding ring. There were two hearts engraved on the ring, the big one wrapped around the small one, but the two hearts were carved with a single line. .

This doesn't look like an ordinary pattern, but rather a logo or sign.

It's just that he can't remember now--

He glanced up at Clara, she was about to reach for a book on the bookcase, her movements were slight, as if she didn't want to disturb his thinking.

Clara spread the book out at an angle that allowed him to see the title.

His eyes froze, and he immediately understood the truth of the case.

Clara took out the third book from the second grid from the left on the first floor of the bookcase, acting naturally, as if she just wanted to appreciate the book, but found a golden bookmark inside.

The material is made of iron, with a thickness of about 3-5 mm. The shape is like a leaf, and the veins of the leaf are even carved.She gently stood up the book, and the bookmark slipped into her left hand.

Footsteps suddenly sounded behind her, she turned around holding the book, with a calm expression, stuffed the bookmark into her pocket, and looked at Sherlock.

What is he holding in his hand?ring?

what?Are you proposing?

Sherlock walked straight towards her. Clara was a little flustered by such a clear pace of purpose. She was indeed a little afraid that he would suddenly pull his hand away and say—"marry me."

Very good, very imaginative.

Sherlock continued to walk towards her, and Clara turned her head unnaturally away, but Sherlock walked in front of her anyway.

He raised his hand slowly, and Clara became more and more nervous.

His hand was lowered, and Clara wondered if he was really going to give herself a ring!

Then--

Sherlock took the book in her hand, closed it, looked at the cover, smiled, and said to Clara with a smile: "You are awesome, Clara Cooper."

It was rare to receive praise, and Clara immediately swept away the embarrassment and calmly said "um", even though she still didn't know why she was praised.

Then she glanced at the ring, her expression changed immediately, and then she looked at the book, and instantly understood everything.

"No way..." Clara frowned, "Mr. Parsons is—"

"It's just so incredible," Sherlock said with a smile, "that it all makes sense."

Downstairs, Letterman had a confident smile on his face, which made the domestic workers shudder.

"You just said," Laughing Letterman, "that Betty was a child, not fit for that scene, was she?"

Mr. White's eyes dodged a bit: "I...Did I say..."

"You said it, you know you said it," Letterman said, "why did you know the scene upstairs would be unsuitable for a child?"

Mr. White is dying: "Mrs. Parsons is screaming, of course I have to be more cautious..."

"A lie," Letterman exposed him. "You know what kind of scene there will be in the study at that time, because Mr. Parsons' death was caused by you alone. As for the method..."

Letterman thought about the embassy and asked, "Did you poison him?"

Mr. White's hand shook violently.

"Looks like I was right," Letterman said, "the motive was—"

"The motive was his daughter."

The voice came from upstairs, and the slender curly-haired man walked down the stairs with an indifferent expression.Sherlock went straight to the sofa, threw the ring on the coffee table, made a crisp sound, and the logo on it was revealed.

Letterman took a closer look and realized.

Clara stood by, holding the book in her hand, feeling a little complicated.

This is "Lolita", the work of the Russian writer Vladimir Nabokov.

And the sign on that ring is a sign of pedophilia.

A pedophile, Mr. Parsons had an affair with Betty White.

"That book reminded me of the meaning of this symbol." Sherlock gestured to the book in Clara's hand, "I now know who is most likely to kill Mr. Parsons."

"You have no proof..."

Letterman stood up and said, "Then we can take you to the base for a polygraph test, Mr. White."

"Who says there is no evidence?" Sherlock smiled, "You poisoned his milk, and symptoms such as diarrhea may seem to be a recurrence of stomach problems, but in fact it is one of the manifestations of arsenic poisoning. You can get it by testing the cup. in conclusion."

Mr. White suddenly smiled subtly: "Oh, I didn't poison you."

"A lie," Letterman concluded, and then said, "But since you are so confident, it seems that you can't get definite evidence from the cup, then..."

"Milk," Sherlock said to Dr. Letterman.

Dr. Laitman also looked at Sherlock: "Maybe the milk can't find anything. We can go to his house to have a look. If arsenic has appeared, there will definitely be a reaction."

"There's no need to go to his house," Sherlock said. "He's going to bring the arsenic here, and the reaction will be checked in the car."

Mr. White on the sofa looked more and more desperate.

The pure and soft voice of a little girl came from the kitchen.

"Wait a minute, gentlemen," Clara said to them, "don't you think Mr. Parsons got what he deserved?"

Clara said: "Parsons laid hands on a child. As the father of that child, his behavior can be understood!"

Mr. White kept his mouth shut and kept silent.

The two arguing stopped, and Dr. Letterman looked at her thoughtfully, but Sherlock said indifferently, "What does it have to do with me?"

you--

Clara was silent for a moment... Well, she should have known about Sherlock's character.

Suddenly there was a ding-dong doorbell outside, and Mrs. Parsons in the kitchen came out to answer the door, but unexpectedly, a group of policemen appeared.

The leader rushed in: "Dr. Letterman! We are here, where do we need help?"

"Help?" Sherlock said coldly, "Come to collect evidence, the case is solved."

There was dead silence.

Dr. Letterman smiled, and lo and behold, another textbook show off.

The leader glanced at his watch, then looked up, with a complicated expression:

"Doctor, we arrived here... it's only been a quarter of an hour."

You broke the case?

broken? ? ?

broken! ! !

The author has something to say:

Sherlock: The spicy chicken case will be done in 15 minutes.

Dr. Laitman: Huh.

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