Baker Street Grocery Store [Comprehensive]

The author has something to say:

"How could I kill her!" Brian woke up instantly, pushed Irene away and sat up straight, "She is my sister!"

Being rejected by him, Irene was not embarrassed: "Brian, I think, you should listen to your inner voice."

"The voice in my heart?" He murmured with disbelief on his face, "How could the voice in my heart make me kill Selvi?"

"Come on," Irene said to him, tossing her hair, sitting up straight and drinking tea, "what are you running away from? You know what the world is like, when mothers see money and abandon their husbands and children, and fathers drink and become children. , Sister is self-righteous, and has a perverted desire to control, you... hide in this ivory tower in a quiet corner, and push your cowardice to the ruthlessness of your family."

Irene glanced at him: "You know what this world is like. The pure land you want to find will never appear, at least not around you."

She got up again and looked at this gorgeous manor, and said coldly: "You once told me that your mother bought it, so... your mother bought it with 'what'?"

"Stop it... Please, stop it..." Brian begged her sadly, "You are my friend, aren't you? Why do you torture me by saying such things?"

"Darling," Irene's sharp eyes suddenly became sad again, "you know, everything is broken first and then established. If you don't break the emptiness of the water and moon in the mirror, you will never be able to see the truth of the matter. "

He looked at Irene sadly: "Break first... then stand?"

"Yes," Irene sat back beside him again, leaned closer to him, her red lips almost completely pressed against him, "look at this hypocritical world, no one is clean, look at me—" her skirt Faded, "Do I look good?"

Brian stared blankly at her collarbone, not daring to look down, and forgot to answer her question.

Irene stood up suddenly, Brian turned his head suddenly, but still had no time to see something that shouldn't be seen, she chuckled and said, "Don't be so shy, young man, I know what you want, so I just came here."

"I'm not an angel." Standing in front of him, she turned his head with red nails, gently raised his chin, and said lovingly and coldly, "I'm here to satisfy you, and you also want to be satisfied." Appropriately meet my requirements, we each take what we need."

She took out her mobile phone from her bag and called up the photo on her official website - a woman sneered, holding a delicate little leather whip in her hand.Irene showed Brian the phone: "You don't have to have any psychological pressure at all, dear Mr. Cello, it's just a deal, just for fun, and it's just a way to teach you how to be a man."

"you--"

She put her hand on his lips and raised her eyebrows: "I'm already here, should I continue? Give me an answer - nod, or shake your head."

The choice he gave didn't need to be repeated at all, who could refuse her.

Oh, if there is a magic mirror in the world, then it will definitely open its mouth to praise Irene Adler.

"In a world full of material desires, do you want to live in peace and self-admiration? This is impossible." She finally said to him, "So obey your desires, young man."

"Kill her."

……

"So the murderer is the cellist... the brother of the deceased?" Someone next to him asked dumbfounded.

Clara frowned and said in disapproval, "But—"

"Of course it's not 'him'." Sherlock looked at Clara and gave her a playful wink, as if to encourage her, but he had already stalked to the bottom of the stage.

He stood below, reached out and knocked on the beautiful black wooden floor of the stage, glanced around at the people on the stage, and chuckled lightly: "It's great, this is a perfect performance, Capriccio in the sky, huh? Capriccio in the ceiling, right?" .”

Clara said helplessly, "Sherlock, don't keep it up."

"Oh, don't tell me you didn't see who the murderer is." Sherlock pouted, "Don't make such an expression, I know you must have seen it, why don't you believe your own conclusions, Clara."

Clara was a little dazed, what does this mean?Did she see it?

"Get out of your limited thinking, Clara." Sherlock raised the corner of his mouth slightly, "The murderer is not 'he'."

He looked around at everyone: "The murderer is—" His eyes fell on several people, making people uncomfortable, after all, it must not feel good to be seen through.

"The murderers are them."

Everyone was stunned.

Sherlock chuckled, this time it could be seen that he was really happy: "Look at you, sometimes it makes people feel angry and funny."

"Please...Xia," Clara reacted, and rolled her eyes at his cheap-talking habit, "speak less."

"Oh, of course I can say a few words to you, after all you have seen it all, it's just that I lack my last advice, but..." He glanced at others and shrugged, "I bet they will let me continue to explain. "

I owe this goods too much...

The atmosphere froze for two seconds. After hearing this remark, who could have the nerve to invite the detective?

Clara noticed Sherlock's unconcealable excitement and the unhappiness in the silence of the crowd, so she cleared her throat and said, "Please, Mr. Holmes, tell us."

He jumped onto the stage, bowed his head and signaled to Clara, "You're welcome, Miss Cooper."

Clara: "..." Oh, this reminds her that she forgot to say thank you.

Holmes's control over the audience is amazing. There are so many people in the theater listening to the concert, but his eyes can always see different places.

"First there is this old gentleman in a wheelchair," Sherlock said, "he is sitting on the balcony listening to music, but his mind is obviously not on the music, he is not as focused as Miss Cooper next to him, he has been in the auditorium Take a look around."

He paused: "Then he may have discovered something. I don't know. Could it be who gave the signal? Anyway, during the intermission, he went backstage and administered some kind of hypnotic effect to the pianist. The medicine, um, chlorpheniramine tablets..."

The bad-tempered old man in the wheelchair suddenly changed his face.

He smiled: "Gotya."

"Why?" asked Clara, who really didn't know anything about pills and pathology.

"He's holding an umbrella, it's black, and it's rare to see sunshine in spring, so why would anyone hold an umbrella? And he scratches his skin from time to time while sitting on the balcony." Sherlock glanced at her, "Solar dermatitis, maybe it's because of acclimatization. , maybe it's an old problem, Whocares."

"In short, the hypnotic effect of the pills caused the pianist Miss Selvie to make a lot of mistakes in her performance." He paused, and looked to the side of the stage. so that the prudent Miss Selway did not notice that she had stepped into a trap."

"The meaning of the trap is..." A young policeman said in a daze, "Isn't there really someone lying in ambush there to kill someone with his own hands?"

Clara glanced at him - of course, silly boy, who can kill a person in ten seconds and at the same time make her get strangled all over?But... Seriously, you are finished, you will be ridiculed if you say it so directly.

"Nonsense." Someone really didn't let the young policeman go, "I thought no one would think about such a stupid question."

Immediately, there was an uneasy coughing at the scene—oh, it seems that everyone is wondering how the murderer can kill someone in a dozen seconds without attracting the attention of the people around her.

No wonder the cellist has been targeted from the very beginning. After all, the best way to keep people from being surprised is that he himself is the murderer.

Clara also coughed lightly. Well, she admitted that she had thought about it in this direction, and she also seriously entangled the suspicion of the cellist.

"My God, when will you guys be smarter?" Sherlock sniffed at the IQ of the group of people again, and continued, "Next, the pianist stepped into the side of the stage, and everything there was ready to go, waiting for her to go up -"

"I'm not using metaphors," he explained. "The principle of the trap is similar to the gun. It only needs the last force and an arrow. The musician sits on the stool and the arrow is on the string. The position of the cello Just right, the bow is fully drawn, who will release the bow in the end?"

Clara looked at the little assistant, who lowered his head, unable to see his expression.

"The assistant gave her a push in the name of delivering water." Sherlock reached out his hand to signal, "The trap started to work instantly, and the strings that had been laid began to shrink as the stool collapsed, instantly killing the pianist and Put her body on display outside."

He said in a low voice: "It's so smooth and beautiful."

"Xia." Clara stopped him from praising the trap, shook her head, and signaled to the people present.

"As for the evidence," said Sherlock, "there is a stool by the side of the stage, one leg has been severed, neatly beheaded, by the strings, and the other severed leg is from the experiment I just did. If you check carefully, you can see that the long strings are all behind."

"The murderer..." a police officer said, "Which one of the three is it?"

"All of them."

"Sherlock, they didn't kill the pianist directly," Clara said, "Maybe they should find the person who set the trap."

……

"What are you doing!" A middle-aged woman in gorgeous clothes was tied to a stool. She shouted, but she didn't dare to struggle, because the strings around her were shining with silver light, waiting for an opportunity to move.

A lazy woman sat across from her. She took out her mobile phone to take a picture of the scene, and then said, "I don't think you know what this is. I can explain it to you. It's what killed your daughter."

Hearing the word daughter, the middle-aged woman was taken aback, and her eyes suddenly became sad.

"You thought you ran away?" Irene brushed her hair, "I sent your concert tickets, just to let you see what will happen to the family you secretly supported."

She said: "Maybe you have already had a premonition. To be honest, I can ruin your ex-husband and son with this. As for the daughter—oh, that beautiful girl has already left. It's just an appetizer."

She trembled: "I don't know them..."

"Tsk, why are you pretending?" Irene took out a photo and threw it in front of her. It was the only family photo that she found at Brian's place.

"If they knew that you left home to work for a criminal expert, it would embarrass their musical future, after they've been pointed out by their biological mother for abandoning their husband and son," she said. After a pause, "Oh, it's not them, it's him. She's already dead, just now."

"You..." She raised her head, "Are you from Moriarty?"

"Who knows." Irene neither admitted nor denied, "You should know what I want, tell me where those records are, and I can consider letting your ex-husband and baby cellist son go."

"Why should I—"

"Shut up," she said coldly, "Your life is gone. Now you only need to spit out the last message, and your mission will be completed. Letting those two people go is already the last favor."

She was still stunned: "I don't believe it, it's not true."

"Then look at the strings around you," she continued, "don't waste my time, these strings are what killed your daughter, does it feel real now?"

"I..." She stopped suddenly, looking here, she didn't know where she was. When she saw her daughter's body, she wanted to run up, but she didn't want to be knocked out immediately. in this place now.

"Have you considered it?" Irene said impatiently, "My next guest's appointment time is coming."

"I..." She shook her head, frowning and crying.

"Then let me tell you again," Irene said coldly, "your ex-husband saw you, and he wanted to focus your attention on the cello, in order to humiliate you for leaving him, so he drugged his daughter — that’s a big help.”

Even though it's in her calculations.

"Your son, because your leaving broke up the family and made him mentally unsound, he became a masochist." She said coldly, "In the end he chose to pervert in silence. He didn't agree with killing your daughter. It took a lot of effort."

"I will arrange for someone to take the blame, but I have to tell you," she said, "I have evidence in my hand, and I can destroy them now—"

"I say!" The middle-aged woman finally chose to speak.

The case of the pianist's return to death also came to an end with the frank admission of the little freckle assistant. Not only that, she took the blame cleanly, claiming that she had instigated the hesitant old man to drug the pianist, and it was her He took the cello and put it in that crucial position.

The motive for the crime turned out to be that he couldn't stand the pianist's obsessive-compulsive disorder.

Except for the trap design that took people's lives in more than ten seconds, the whole case was like a farce, but despite this, Sherlock rarely showed his less mean side.

He watched Clara run to comfort the cellist, remembering what she had told her about composing for Betty White, he also walked over and said to the crying cellist, "Why cry, there are scarier things. "

These words provoked Clara's sharp eyes, tsk, this night, he clearly noticed Clara's special feelings for the cellist.

However, he still added one more sentence: "Don't be influenced, Mr. Cello."

This familiar title caught Brian's eyes. He looked at Sherlock and thought of another woman who also had the same indifferent nature, so he was stunned just like that.

Clara suddenly felt a sense of crisis, and pulled Sherlock back a few steps. The gentle comfort just now turned into guarding: "If you have something to say, you can just look at me, don't look at him."

Brian looked at Clara obediently. The other party's beautiful eyes were bright and very clear. He must have grown up in a good and warm environment since he was a child, and he must have never suffered.

He shook his head bitterly: "I really envy you."

This made Clara a little puzzled, Sherlock looked at him coldly, and replied: "But her optimism is something you can't envy."

Sensing Clara's instant warm eyes, Sherlock silently changed his words: "Sorry, she's stupid."

Clara looked indifferent: "...you have changed, I didn't expect you to be such a Sherlock, you have never used the word 'stupid' to describe me before, you hurt me seriously, you bastard, you lost me gone."

"—Your mistake was trying to leave after stepping into Moriarty's circle." I don't know where in the city, Irene, who had already received the information, left, and there was still a crying middle-aged man behind her. women.She sneered: "It's too early to finish, waste of time, stupid Ms. Cooper."

She paused: "Ms. Cooper, Cooper...tsk, what a common and common surname, it reminds me of a woman who is also like a clown."

As Moriarty said, she was too ordinary, how could such an ordinary person, or in other words, such a person who yearned for the ordinary, stay by his side?

He should be more suitable for wandering in the dark.

When the little freckles who were arrested by the police passed by Sherlock, she accidentally slipped. Sherlock stretched out a hand to help her, and happened to see the tattoo on the back of her neck, which was as gorgeous as the font of "Sky Capriccio" outside— —

Irene Adler.

The author says:

Well, I can finally explain it. Of course, Sherlock doesn't have the physique to die wherever he goes. This case was designed by Irene for him to have fun.

I really don’t know why I designed such a complicated case. Looking back at these chapters, it doesn’t seem very good==.I'm still burning my brains and wanting to die... I can't wait for CC and SH to get married and give birth to a baby, and then it will be over ==, life will be complete.