[Comprehensive] Baker Street Survival Guide

Issued on 12-07, corrected the typo on 12-19√

☆、chapter2

Joanna pushed Watson, and Watson shook and muttered a few words.She smiled helplessly at the bartender, paid the bill, and helped Watson out of the bar.

The two stood under the eaves at the entrance of the bar. It was raining heavily outside, and the sky was gradually getting dark.Joanna put her hands in her pockets and watched the rainwater dripping from the eaves, forming a curtain of water.This is London, and rain is the most normal thing, but Watson didn't have an umbrella on him, so they could only wait so stupidly before calling a taxi.

Watson, who was a little drowsy from drinking, was woken up by the cold wind outside.A man who is drunk alone always has the awareness that he can be anywhere in London when he is sober.Watson felt the wind on his cheek, and besides that, he felt the rain on his face.

It made him wake up a bit, and with a little struggle, he lifted his eyelids.The cold wind blows away most of the alcohol, but the shock after waking up includes but is not limited to seeing a beautiful woman beside him.

He was so startled that he almost jumped away from Joanna.

"Sorry!" He glanced at his surroundings.The British Museum was still in sight - he realized that he had not left the confines of the bar, but was standing near it.

"Do you... do we know each other?" Watson asked hesitantly.The memory before drinking the fragment slowly came back together.But he wasn't sure if he had missed something. He didn't know the woman in front of him.

When I looked carefully, I found that this woman was wearing the same brand of women's clothing as Sherlock's windbreaker. Her face was not long, but at a certain angle, her eyebrows were raised slightly, which looked a lot like Sherlock.Watson secretly heaved a sigh of relief, finally he didn't have the feeling of... transformation.

"I think so. There was a pickpocket behind you just now, so I pretended to accost you." Joanna spread her hands and pointed to one pocket of Watson's jacket - the corners of the wallet outlined a pattern on the clothes. Rectangular, very eye-catching and a favorite of pickpockets.

Watson looked down and said quickly, "Thank you! My name is John Watson."

"Joanna."

Watson shook hands with Joanna. He looked at the size of the rain, hesitated, and invited Joanna: "This is bad weather! I really want to thank you for your help. Shall we go back and have a drink together?" "

Joanna shook her head and said nothing.

Watson was a little disappointed, but he still thoughtfully found a way out for himself: "Is this kind of strike-up a bit outdated?"

"Of course not. I think saving your wallet is the funnest thing I did today." Joanna smiled, "It's just that you didn't recognize me, which makes me a little regretful."

"Ah!...Sorry..." Watson pointed at Joanna and opened his mouth, "...But didn't you say...we don't know each other?" He tried his best to search in his brain, but there was really nothing. A person is matched with the woman in front of him.

"You can guess from my name, after all, my appearance has changed a bit from before." Joanna reminded.

Watson thought hard.This person is his ex-girlfriend?No no no, although occasionally he would mix up the characteristics of his ex-girlfriend, but it did not include completely forgetting.What case is the client's family?This is possible...but the name Joanna is still very strange.

In the end, the military doctor could only shake his head in a nasty voice, and said frankly with regret: "I really can't remember."

"I'm yours···"

Just as Joanna was about to answer his question, she happened to see someone waving at him across the road.She stopped explaining and beckoned.

"Is this person your friend?" Under the streetlight, Watson vaguely saw a man in a casual suit greeting them.The man made several gestures, but he didn't see clearly.

Joanna waved her hand far away, indicating that she saw it.But the man seemed to have something to say, he looked around, and finally walked straight towards them.

"This is one of my clients—Mr. Thornfield. I forgot to mention that I am working as a private investigator now, and it is inconvenient for me to tell you the details about him." Joanna blinked, standing in the shower Under the eaves without rain, I watched Mr. Thornfield in a raincoat crossing the road.

"Crossing the road like this will not be too—" Safe.

Before Watson could finish his sentence, a double-decker bus suddenly drove up around the corner.The incident happened unexpectedly, and from the perspective of Watson and Joanna, they only saw Mr. Thornfield in a blue raincoat flying upside down like a kite with a broken string—this description may be a bit old-fashioned, but But precise enough.

Joanna and Watson looked at each other.They both confirmed what they saw in each other's eyes.

The red double-decker bus slams to a halt on slippery ground.The screech of brakes was accompanied by rain splashing from the side of the wheels.

The driver nervously opened the door and got down to check.

Watson and Joanna didn't bother to chat with each other, they rushed over nervously.

Mr. Thornfield fell five or six meters away, with blood streaming from his facial features.The driver took his hand nervously, and then put it down immediately in fright.Joanna saw that Thornfield's arm was at a strange angle, limply bent, and it was impossible to run away with a broken bone.As for whether the spine was injured in this blow, it is even more unknown.

The red blood flowed to the ground, and it quickly faded into a large area under the washing of the rain.The driver who caused the accident was an ordinary person, and he had never seen such a situation before. He stood beside Mr. Thornfield in disbelief, bent over and looked at him nervously, muttering something incessantly, but he didn't think about it. Get up and call an ambulance.

The bean-sized raindrops washed everything indifferently, and Thornfield's breathing gradually became weaker.Joanna called the police on the sidelines.Watson, on the other hand, ordered the driver to level Mr. Thornfield.

Visitors in the bar began to notice the tragedy at the door.Joanna and Watson's shelter from the rain quickly filled with people.People started taking pictures with the flash on, as if they were not in a car accident but some celebrity.

Joanna raised the collar of her windbreaker uncomfortably, simply covering half of her cheeks.Watson on the side only felt that her action was too much like Sherlock's appearance when he was photographed by the reporter.

But Watson's hand on Mr. Thornfield's carotid artery felt bad news.This gentleman's pulse gradually weakened, and when he opened his eyelids, he could see that his pupils also began to slacken.

Joanna borrowed an umbrella from a passerby.They all remember not being able to move the wounded man to prevent his bones from being misaligned.But standing in the heavy rain with nothing to hide is obviously an act of hastening death.

The normal time for an ambulance to arrive is between ten and 15 minutes, plus the road congestion on a rainy day.Both Joanna and Watson knew in their hearts that Mr. Thornfield was in danger.

5 minutes passed quickly in such a tense environment.

Mr. Thornfield was waking up slowly on the icy road.When he opened his mouth, blood clots spit out from his mouth, apparently internal organs were also damaged.

But even so, Mr. Thornfield's mouth is still opening and closing...

"He seems to have something to say to you!" The heavy rain covered other voices.

Joanna couldn't hear what Watson was saying, so she asked loudly, "What did you say—?"

"He has something to tell you!" In desperation, Watson pulled Joanna's wrist, making her bow her head and lean into Thornfield's ear.

Joanna was taken aback, she used too much force and almost fell on Thornfield.Even though she stabilized her body in time, a little blood still hit her face.

But at this time, Joanna could no longer care about these trivial things.All her attention was on Thornfield's mouth. "T····························································· which can only hear some gasps.She barely made up a few letters, but she couldn't understand the meaning at all.

The light in Mr. Thornfield's eyes gradually dimmed.He looked sideways at his left hand, and once he tilted his head, he stopped moving.

Joanna silently let go of Thornfield's hand.She becomes aware of her client's death.

Life is so short and accidents can happen at any time.

Watson also let go of the side pulse hand. He stood up in frustration, patted Joanna's shoulder who was half kneeling, and comforted: "We have tried our best."

He still couldn't remember who this woman who looked a little like Sherlock was, and now they were all drowned in the heavy rain.

Joanna, who was kneeling on the ground, was silent.The light from the street lamp cast a thick shadow on her body.

The siren of an ambulance gradually sounded at the corner of the street. Joanna wiped the rainwater off her face, staring blankly at the red stain on her hands.When Watson was looking at the phone, he quickly pulled out a piece of paper that was clenched into a ball from Thornfield's left hand, which looked like paste.

'Bring me back a spring roll. ——S. H'

Watson felt his phone vibrate, and when he opened it, it was a text message from Sherlock.

"The ambulance will be here shortly. . . . You just said that you are now a private eye and he is your client. I think . . . "

"Do you want to know if this car accident was an accident?" Joanna felt the smell of blood had not dissipated from her face.Now the rain is not as heavy as before.She looked back at the panicked driver, raised her chin and asked, "Do you think he caused the accident on purpose?"

"But it's possible he was being used."

"There are not so many uses in life, Watson, I think you are thinking too much."

"But..." He thought for a while, took out his phone, and returned a text message to Sherlock.

Joanna turned her head, ready to leave.But Watson stopped him: "Wait. We're going to make a record... and then you're going to my house? You said we knew each other before?"

Joanna stared at Watson for a moment.Her black pupils were extremely calm.Watson almost thought she wasn't thinking when he heard her say, "Okay. I just hope your roommates will welcome me."

"Okay....wait...you know I have a roommate?!"

The author has something to say: The heroine has a problem.See Chapter 5 for details

12-19 Correct the typo√

☆、chapter3

When John used the key to open the door on Baker Street, standing at the gate, he felt a puff of smoke blowing in his face, and it smelled like burnt protein.Watson turned around in embarrassment and explained to Joanna: "This is my roommate...he should be doing an experiment."

Joanna nodded and followed Watson into the room without changing her expression.This act reminded Watson of her profession.After all, she is a private detective, and she and Sherlock can be regarded as half colleagues.

But obviously, apart from Watson himself, neither of the other two parties thought so.

Two people bent over upstairs, clutching their noses, looking for the source of the smoke.Now is not the time to worry about why the fire alarm didn't work. The people in the living room on the second floor concealed it, and after pushing it away, they saw a big detective Sherlock wearing a gas mask in the smoke.With a dropper in one hand, he was carefully adding some kind of suspension to the extinguished fire.

The fire was built above an iron barrel, and the source of the smell was a severed hand on the fire.Watson stood in front of Joanna the first time he saw Sherlock's experimental supplies. He said nervously, "We can clean it up first."

"You brought guests? This will affect my experiment." Sherlock looked up dissatisfied.He glanced at Joanna who was standing behind Watson with only half of her body exposed, and added, "Still a private detective."

"Sherlock! You are doing this kind of experiment again! If Mrs. Hudson comes back to see it later, you will be nagged again!" Watson complained.

"This is related to one of my cases. Who the murderer is depends on this experiment."

"Is it an arson case in the West End of London? How far have you progressed?" Joanna interrupted the daily conversation between Sherlock and Watson.Her body was still drenched, and although she wiped it with a towel when taking notes, it basically didn't help.

"Ah! You should change your clothes! We only have shirts here... can you make up for it?" Watson turned his attention back to Joanna. He saw Joanna's shoes that were still dripping. His face was a little blue, and there was no shortage of blowing wind along the way.

"Thank you!" Joanna nodded gratefully.

She and Sherlock watched as Watson trotted off to the adjoining bedroom to look for clothes.

Sherlock leaned out half of his body and shouted to Watson who had already walked to the next door: "I asked you to bring takeaway!"

"I'm not your delivery man, Sherlock!" After a while, Watson's voice came from the next door, and he shouted unwillingly: "I put it on the shelf by the door, don't tell me you didn't see it !"

Sherlock turned around contentedly.He looked up at Joanna again, and said to her, "If you don't mind, help me get my takeaway."

Joanna raised her eyebrows, she walked to the table and handed the takeaway to Sherlock.She and Watson lined up to buy this takeaway.The restaurant ① attached to Solway Hotel is still doing well, and it took a lot of time to line up.

"Here you are. By the way, when John bought it, I thought he was going to bring it to his girlfriend."

"You know not."

"what?"

"John introduced me to you early in the morning. So you know he didn't bring takeaways to his girlfriend." Sherlock explained in a tone of 'you're wasting your time'.

"But is there any difference? It's just a joke." Joanna shrugged and said provocatively.

This time Sherlock dropped the dropper from his hand.He turned to Joanna.In less than five seconds, he spoke again: "Private detective? It's better to say that you are a sneak photographer who specializes in finding evidence of cheating on husbands and wives. Of course, you are also engaged in other businesses, but you are not too outstanding."

Joanna had been prepared for this evaluation of him.And she also knew he wasn't finished.

"Witnessed a car accident and went to the police station to make a statement. John wants to know if the case was murder. I guess the dead person has some connection with you. He may be your client."

"I always thought that the content of the profile was about motives rather than behavior. You are right, it makes people scared." Joanna's expression did not mean to be scared.

"It's the basic deductive method."

"What?" Joanna didn't hear clearly again.

Now Sherlock knew she was doing it on purpose.

"Arrogant, with a good background. Currently living alone, living a fairly regular life, and have no bad habits. You are not short of money, but now you are doing... PD? This is your protective color, you are a secretive, accustomed to Instead of hiding your PTSD symptoms, it is better to accept treatment calmly... stay away from Watson, even if you haven't told him that you are his high school classmate!"

Joanna listened to Sherlock's words.Watson also came out of the room at about the same time.

"Is this dress okay?" He only heard Sherlock's last words, and looked at Joanna in surprise, "You are my high school classmate?!"

Sherlock and Joanna looked in Watson's direction at the same time again.Watson felt for a moment that he was under double the pressure, from... two detectives?

"It's a nice dress, thank you, John."

Joanna took the clothes from Watson and was about to borrow the bathroom.

"Next time, can you hide your classmate and graduation album better? I still feel sorry for being recognized by your roommate."

"It's not the arson in the West End of London, the one near Chinatown. But it's obviously not in your scope of work." Sherlock said behind Joanna, somewhat showing off.

Sherlock is full of hostility towards Joanna, and even for ordinary clients, Sherlock usually does not have this attitude.Watson shouted in surprise, "Sherlock!"

Joanna's hand paused on the doorknob.She turned her head and said seriously: "I am a certified PD①, and you, a consulting detective, are known for being tough in the background and well-known in the industry. All the cameras on Baker Street are evidence of this!"

After saying this, she closed the bathroom door with a 'bang'.

Watson stood outside the door for a long time in a daze, trying to digest the few words that Joanna spoke at a rapid pace just now.He clapped his hands suddenly and remembered something: "Sherlock! Have you put away that hand bone in the bathroom?"

--of course not.

When Joanna opened the door again, the long windbreaker changed into a white cotton shirt.She is tall and tall, so she doesn't feel too generous.

"Your bathroom has a hand bone. There is a deformation on the ring finger. I guess this is an affectionate man."

"Did you only notice the deformation? Even a pre-medical student can see it. What you should pay attention to is the quality of the hand bones and the way the specimens were prepared."

Watson went to the window and opened the window of [-]B. The smoke in the room was slowly blown away by the wind.In an instant, the distance between people seems to be infinitely shortened.Sherlock's experiment itself was coming to an end, and he put the fire out.

"Died of some kind of disease? Or is it a souvenir you kept at the crime scene?" Joanna shrugged, not caring about this detail.

Sherlock's cell phone rang at this moment.He glanced at the caller ID, then looked away.Obviously, this was intended to be ignored.

The phone rang persistently for a while, and it seemed that the caller also realized that he had been cruelly rejected.After a few minutes, the notification bell for the text message rang.

"The car accident on Montague Street? I think it has developed into a murder case now." Sherlock walked up to Georgiana: "What did the deceased entrust you with? Of course, it doesn't matter, this is my case now. "

"It's mine." Joanna took a step back.Her height is still tall for women, but she still needs to look up to Sherlock, "I think my client died in an accident. But if Scotland Yard discovers a new murder...that's another matter."

"You just moved, so you probably don't have much time to deal with the case. Give me this, and you can have more time to do your own thing." Sherlock held out his hand to Joanna.

When Watson was watching from the side, he already felt that Sherlock was surprisingly easy to talk to.

But Joanna didn't think so.She backed away again in resistance, until she stuck to the door.

"I don't think moving will affect my professionalism. This is my entrustment. If you must intervene, do it on your own." She touched the doorknob with her backhand, turned around and opened it, "Death cannot be hidden My eyes. Stop here today, by the way... I moved to Baker Street, if you want me."

The door slammed shut.

Watson stayed for a few seconds before he realized it. He said to himself, "My God! This is my high school classmate?!"

Joanna's crisp and sharp image can't overlap with the dull girl in high school.What surprised Watson even more was: "Sherlock, you actually read my classmate records?!"

Sherlock didn't answer the question.He picked up his violin from the wooden table in the multi-purpose room, and walked to the window, where he could see the woman walking out of [-]B.

He placed it casually on the table, and the screen was already dimmed.The call was from Inspector Lestrade, but the important text message Moriarty had just sent—Montague Street—was an obvious invitation.

Sherlock clamped the violin on his shoulder, and he raised his hand to play a tune. The sound of the violin echoed in the room, like sawing wood, and he could hear the bad temper of the player.

The author has something to say: ①The restaurant that appeared in the study of pink characters, the one in the taxi hunt.

12-19 Correct the typo√

☆、chapter4

The crime scene has been tightly cordoned off with a yellow cordon.A few police cars with blue and red lights were parked near the villa, surrounded by uniformed police officers who came and went to stand guard, and even those reporters who wanted to obtain first-hand information had already been dispersed.

Inspector Lestrade handed over to his colleagues on duty, and he was officially in charge of the case.

Sherlock's cell phone is out of reach, and he is likely still working on the arson case near Chinatown.Lestrade had to edit a long text message—he was not very familiar with the application of smartphones, and editing text messages to describe the case would inevitably progress slowly.

"Your gloves and mask." The forensic doctor came out of the master bedroom of the villa.He and Lestrade were already acquaintances, so they kindly handed him a set of equipment.

"I've read the case description, and I'm mentally prepared." After sending the text message, Lestrade stuffed the phone back into his pocket with a sigh of relief.He took what the forensic doctor handed over, but still emphasized his professionalism.

"Of course I believe you. It's just that there were two probationary detectives just now...they are not so used to this. Recently, the quality of the students has really deteriorated, and their vomit almost stained the crime scene." long·"

The forensic doctor put his hands in his pockets and spoke with a slightly teasing tone.

Despite what he said, getting would-be detectives to vomit directly at the scene of a crime at least proves that homicides are unconventional methods.

Lestrade put on gloves and a mask, leaving a solemn expression behind the mask.

He opened the door of the bedroom. Markers were put on some places in the room. The basic evidence collection has been completed. Fingerprints and DNA will be sent to the laboratory for testing, but the corpse has not been disposed of.

"The body truck will be here in twenty minutes. I thought that Mr. Detective of yours would be here," said the medical examiner, leaning against the door.

"He's probably realizing he's not all-knowing." Anderson came in.He was caught in the smell of the room, which was a mixture of air freshener and burnt smell, which transformed into a new, disgusting smell.

The deceased was lying on the bed, and her facial expression could not be seen when she entered the door.Her two arms were completely scorched, and her eyes were gouged out, leaving a pair of deep black holes facing the window.But the sheets were still pure white, only slightly yellowish from the corpse oil.

"The deceased was a Filipino maid who worked in this house. The time of death was preliminarily determined to be between three and four in the afternoon. The cause of death was... suffocation caused by smoke."

Lestrade frowned and walked around the crime scene.This is not the specific place where the murder occurred, but the smoke suffocation and the burn marks on the arm can only be done in a specific place.

"Is there a basement here, or a secret room?" the inspector asked without much hope.

"No."

"What about the owner of this house?" Lestrade saw the photo on the bedside table in the master bedroom.A father is smiling brightly at the camera with a child in his arms.So he added: "There is also the son of this family."

"The male owner, Mr. Thornfield, was involved in a car accident a few hours ago, and died after rescue efforts failed. His son has been missing for a week. Although an investigation has been initiated, there is no clear evidence." Anderson handed the file to Lestrade, Finally, he said: "I have incorporated all the files into this case. Coincidentally, John Watson was among the people who witnessed Mr. Thornfield's car accident."

"It seems that Sherlock has to participate in this case." The inspector shrugged at the case, and the latter had obviously realized this.Anderson has always been dissatisfied with Sherlock's existence, or what really made him and Sherlock unilaterally quarrel is that Sherlock said that he 'lowered the IQ of the whole street'.

In the middle of the mopping-up work, the pale intern from vomiting came over and knocked on the door: "Inspector, two people outside had an argument. They both said it was related to the case..."

Before Lestrade could ask anything, the quarreling couple walked in in random order.

Someone behind them yelled: "Who are you...you can't come in..." But the yelling person just yelled but just walked around in place, and it didn't look like they really wanted to stop them.

"Sherlock!" Lestrade recognized two of them first. He saw Joanna familiar, but he couldn't remember who she was.

"I received your text message, let's take a look at the scene of the crime. This woman must follow, but she obviously has nothing to do with this case." Sherlock strode to the bed, bent over and checked carefully.

Joanna produced her ID and explained, "I'm a private investigator. My client commissioned me a few hours ago to find his missing son. I think I can still have something to do with this case."

The detective took a look at her ID: "This ID does not allow you to stay at the scene of the crime." He noticed that Joanna's eyes had been drifting towards the victim, "Your responsibility ends here .And... how did you get in?"

If it wasn't for Lestrade blocking the front, Joanna would have liked to go a little closer to observe the details.Her psychological quality is even better than that of ordinary detectives, and there is even a feeling of eagerness in her expression.But after all, there will not be too many Sherlock Holmes in this world, and it is not wise to involve unrelated people in the case.

"It's always necessary to be a private detective. We can actually get to know each other better."

Joanna's tone was sincere, but it was a pity that Lestrade didn't agree with her: "I don't think it's necessary. If we need help, we will contact you again."

Joanna was brutally rejected.Fortunately, she already knew almost everything she needed to know.At this time, she could only shake her head regretfully, and said to Lestrade, "You think Sherlock can help you solve this problem? But it's not just his business."

Joanna kept her hands in her pockets. When she walked to the door, Sherlock, who bent over to observe the dead man's arm, said loudly to Lestrade, "I need evidence on her. That Thornfield died before the car accident. , once gave her a notebook."

Lestrade turned his head to persuade: "Miss Joanna, you should hand it over, it's not good for you to carry this kind of thing."

"If you insist." Joanna shrugged, and she took out the notebook left by Thornfield from her backpack. "But I'll keep investigating," she said emphatically to Sherlock.

Wait until Joanna is gone.Watson looked at Sherlock in disbelief and asked, "Is that why she handed things over to you?"

"She must have detained something." Sherlock didn't open the notebook right away, he seemed to be very interested in the dead man's arm. "She ripped out key parts, or... parts that were about her."

It was late when Joanna returned to her apartment.She lived alone all her adult life.She didn't have many friends, and she didn't need friends.Work takes up most of her time, and recently she has been troubled by moving.

The moving company delivered all her furniture to the room.But the unboxing and tidying was all up to her.

She only made a bed to rest on.Afterwards, she opened the bedroom window and quietly looked at the deserted street outside the window.Until nearly twelve o'clock, a taxi passed by on the street and stopped on the side of the road.Joanna looked at Sherlock and Watson coming out of the car, and she guessed that they had found some clues.After watching for a while, she didn't leave the window until the two disappeared from her vision, ready to sleep.

The next day, Joanna got up early.Before this batch of furniture arrived, she had made a complete plan and conceived how to organize her room.When she moved, she brought a lot of books from the original house.Enough to form a wall of books, but these things take time to organize and arrange.

'Ding dong——' the doorbell on the first floor rang.

Joanna was stunned for a moment.This ringtone is different from the one she used to live in.When she realized the arrival of the first guest after moving to the new house, she silently decided to get acquainted with the ringtone in the future.

Joanna went downstairs and opened the door.Her private detective work has never stopped. From the first day she moved in, the sign of her famous detective agency was hung on the gate.

Opening the door, Joanna saw a tall man standing at the door.His cheekbones were high, his eyes were sunken, and his hair was neatly combed.He wore a tailored suit, but it was brightly colored and did not appear to be the style favored by a traditional British gentleman.This is also fully reflected in his Nordic face.

Joanna squinted her eyes, thinking about what a foreigner would entrust her with.But having said that, among those people who come to entrust, the majority are indeed foreigners.

She can always see things that ordinary people can't see.It's more of a feeling than a sight.

— This man has killed people, many people.When he stood at the door, Joanna saw not only a man, but also a sea of ​​corpses and blood behind him. He was standing on the throne, and there were skeletons everywhere at his feet. The raven stopped quietly on the throne, mouth There was still a piece of blood dripping in his mouth, and all the hideous and twisted things on his body couldn't break his composure.

Joanna paused.

"What's the matter?" She didn't let him in right away.

"I just came here from abroad." The man showed a reassuring smile. "Hannibal Lecter. I think we'll be neighbors now. Can I come in and talk?"

Joanna tightened her grip on my doorknob.But she didn't want to show that she was too nervous about the name.

"I just moved here and I'm tidying up the room. If you don't mind, please come in." Joanna never thought that one day she would invite such a person into her home.

The author has something to say: ①About the saying that private detectives have appeared many times.

In the UK, as long as you have reached the age of eighteen, have no criminal record, and have a professional qualification certificate, you can be a detective.Therefore, the heroine claims to be PD is not something to be proud of.It is also true that there is no right to enter the scene of the crime.

Hannibal came out to take a look first, the version of Uncle Maizi (American drama version).As it unfolds, I will give people a design.It doesn't matter if you haven't seen the original TV series.

※The heroine is cheating, see Chapter 5.

12-19 Correct the typo√

☆、chapter5

As Joanna said, her room is very messy now.The sofa covered with a white cloth is placed in the living room, and only a small number of books have been visited on the bookshelf, and the rest are still in cardboard boxes.Cardboard boxes are stacked floor to ceiling, neatly numbered but crumbling.

"I haven't even had time to tidy up... Please sit down first. Would you like a drink?" Joanna pointed to the sofa and asked Mr. Lecter to do it first.

"Please feel free. It's my fault to take the liberty to visit the door." The interlocutor is polite and polite, giving a good first impression.

Joanna found a jar of black tea bags in the kitchen, and the water in the electric kettle was bubbling. She didn't find her set of porcelain cups, so she had to use paper cups instead.

When coming out of the kitchen.Mr. Lecter was standing beside the row of books she had arranged.

"There's only this kind of black tea." Joanna put the cup on the tea table.

"Thank you." Mr. Lecter returned to his seat.He looked at Joanna's cardboard boxes and asked, "Are these boxes full of books?"

"Yes. I plan to design this wall as a book wall