[Detective Sherlock] Rococo who sees through everything

Mrs. Hudson, who had been hiking for a whole week, finally came back. When Rococo heard the door opening downstairs and saw the image of Mrs. Hudson emerging from the bubble of Sherlock sitting on the sofa, he was almost moved to tears.

"Sherlock! Come and meet... oh?!" Mrs. Hudson went up to the second floor, opened the door, and saw Rococo standing there holding a spatula after a turn. She paused for a few seconds, and suddenly Suddenly made an expression of enlightenment, "Did I come back early?"

"No, Mrs. Hudson."

You didn't come back too early, but thought too much.

Rococo walked back to the kitchen and continued with the work in hand.

Since she caught the boss's stomach, she has been asked for the nth time to cook without a raise, which is simply inhumane.

Every time she finished cooking a dish, she would try her best to ignore the name of the new dish that was added to that memory locker.

"Anyway, come and meet your Grandpa Hill, who I met on my travels. I've never met anyone with such a good sense of humor."

After Mrs. Hudson finished speaking, she looked behind her. A man in his 50s, dressed as a gentleman and wearing black sunglasses, walked into the room on the second floor.

Sherlock lowered his head after just one glance, and said with a blank expression: "If you are going to tell me next time that this old gambler who got his alcoholism, debts, and travel tickets all from gambling tables caught your eye If so, then save yourself, he spent about ten years of his life behind bars, and his humor is probably from the last century."

"There's also body odor." Rococo muttered in a low voice, then put a scallion pancake on the plate of the tea table in front of Sherlock, and glanced at this old Hill who was "humorous and witty probably from the last century", habitually He shrugged emphatically: "I'm sorry Mrs. Hudson, although I know that the next words will make you uncomfortable, but I still have to remind you that I can read it from his eyes alone. My old woman has a house that big in London, and I've earned the word '."

These words were written in old Hill's eloquence, word for word.

Mrs. Hudson glanced at Rococo, who continued to bow her head to type on the keyboard, and then looked at Rococo, who was holding a spatula and looking back with a smile. When she turned around, Old Hill had already raised his hands. In front of the chest, stepped back step by step.

She was a little grateful that she didn't fall into the quagmire again because of this, but her attention was obviously shifted to the other side at the moment, and she asked a little cautiously: "Do I have to sign up for another half-year group or something, to make room for you guys?" Make room?"

"You don't have the money." Sherlock said to the point.

Rococo:"……"

Although the point is not right.

But Mrs. Hudson was already beginning to wonder what the two of them had been doing in the house while she was away.

Rococo glanced at the spring bubbles above Mrs. Hudson's head, as well as those obviously outrageous reveries, and twitched the corner of his mouth helplessly. _(:dish」∠)_

All of this was cut off by the sound of Sherlock snapping his laptop shut, and then his excited and high-pitched voice sounded in the room: "The brightly lit room every Friday, the mysterious exclusive club, this Friday is simply amazing! "

What the hell?

Sherlock's obsession with work has become the norm in Rococo's view ╮(￣▽￣")╭ and Sherlock's bubble only contains the content of [there is no relevant information on the Internet.].

He hugged Mrs. Hudson excitedly, and before rushing into the dressing room, he didn't forget to add: "Rococo, get ready, we're going to welcome tonight's carnival!"

What to prepare, buy a bulletproof vest or a safety helmet =. =?

Mrs. Hudson patted Rococo with a rather happy expression: "Sherlock is much more cheerful than before since you appeared."

No, Rococo is convinced that if the word "cheerful" can appear in Sherlock's dictionary, Sam, who loves her the most, will climb trees.

-

"This is the fifth time you've seen me Rococo."

In the taxi, Sherlock met Rococo's eyes as soon as he turned his head.Instead of putting on the woolen coat, he put on a tie and put on a suit.

"I just don't want to die in an unclear way." Rococo smiled honestly.

She really doesn't like to take a taxi. For a tall person like Sherlock, the air bubbles above her head are always covered by the roof of the car.

And Sherlock handed Rococo his mobile phone directly.

"The latest message."

Rococo opened the information bar, and there were only letters from three contacts recently, one was the government "little clerk", the latest one was from Detective Lestrade, and the rest was Rococo.

Sherlock, do you know the exclusive club on Queen's Road that is brightly lit every Friday? There is no registration information for this club, and the nearby residents don't know about it. I suspect that someone is using this to do illegal business. But the above failed to approve my investigation request, so I need your help to investigate. ——Greg "There is no information about this club on the Internet, no registration method, no contact number, so how did those people know and join this club?"

Sherlock said at the right time when Rococo put down the phone, "And my informants told me that there are no drug cartels or arms trading places nearby. What kind of club is there every Friday night?" No one knows about the fixed-point activities?"

It is very likely that it is a supplementary lesson center, relying on children's oral chanting _(:з」∠)_

In fact, Rococo once had another ideal career to tutor British elementary school students in mathematics, teaching them to recite the nine-nine multiplication table, and finally found that it was too difficult to use English to control the multiplication table that rhymed in Chinese, so this ideal was in vain.

The taxi stopped in front of a clothing store.

"I was told by my source that the people who came in and out of the club were men and women in evening clothes."

Rococo glanced at Sherlock's suit, then looked down at his long-sleeved shirt and denim trousers.

"Actually, you can tell me in advance and let me go back and change."

[Rococo (no evening wear at home)]

"you have not."

This is a fact.

When Rococo came out of the clothing store, he changed into a black dress with suspenders, reflecting the blond hair and dark pupils, and stepped on a pair of high heels.

By the way, Sherlock pays for work needs.

They got off the car more than ten meters away from the club. In the dark, they saw a middle-aged couple dressed in evening clothes knock on the door button a few times after confirming that there was no one around. After waiting for a while, they were welcomed into the room.

[Three long, three short, one long. ]

Sherlock immediately took note of how often they knocked on the knocker.

The gate of the club is the simplest metal iron gate, and the door buckle on the door is also the most common kind. It is really inconspicuous from the appearance alone.

Sherlock knocked on the door button at the same frequency as before, and a dozen seconds later, a man in a suit and with earphones in his ears opened the door. He briefly looked at the two of them, and after taking away their mobile phones, Made a gesture of please.

[(Take away the camera device; did not check the identity → the composition of the personnel is complicated/identity confidential); ① (headset, gun on the waist, sunglasses in the chest pocket) ② (callus on the joints on the back of the hand → can box) ①② → trained Prime bodyguard.Bodyguards with guns? ]

Sherlock's confusion is also rococo. She began to regret that she didn't rush to buy a bulletproof vest online before going out. The characters gather at the gaming table, gambling round after round.

Some people's faces are somewhat familiar to Rococo, but she has only stayed at the level of familiarity since she has only been here for half a year and does not read newspapers often.

The bubbles above their heads are filled with words such as: [100 bets]; [I have a straight]; [Give me a red 17! ] and the like.

"I've let you down, sir. This is probably a place of entertainment for the upper class."

Rococo felt that Sherlock should be persuaded to leave. This is not a place where a flower shop owner who can't even keep flowers and a detective who takes mysterious cases as everything should come here.

"I'm afraid it's more than that." Sherlock's eyes fell on a door further inside.

[Certificate verification + deep body search. ]

This time only a small window on the door was opened, and the person inside asked for a "membership card."

When Rococo felt that Sherlock would never be able to produce such a thing, he took out a card from his pocket.

Wait sir, where did you come from?

Σ(°△°|||)

The door was opened, and the person who handed back the card said hello politely: "Good evening, Honorable Earl and Mrs. Ulster".

Although Rococo had never heard of this name, the word earl could not be wrong.They seem to have entered a very high-end club... Let her out! !

Sherlock retracted the card naturally, motioning for Rococo to hold him.

More akin to a dangerous stuntman than a detective assistant =. =

This time, it was a smaller room than the outside.

[There are no dead-angle cameras, at least two escape tunnels. ]

Sherlock looked around.

"Ah, ma'am, I'm so sorry!"

At this time, a waiter who appeared from nowhere knocked a glass of alcoholic drink onto the rococo dress.

After the apology, the waiter disappeared quickly.

"Sir, you continue to explore, I'll go to the toilet." Rococo let go of Sherlock's hand, and walked in the direction of the toilet sign.

She squeezed the water stains on the hem of the skirt vigorously in the toilet cubicle. This evening dress, which was just seen today, looks like it will be destroyed by Rococo today.

Turning around and about to leave the compartment, she saw the bubble floating above the door: [When she comes out, grab her. ]

She, who else?Play off.

Σ(っ°Д°;)っ

Rococo looked down at herself. There was no weapon, no bulletproof vest, no hard hat, and outside the door was probably a muscular bodyguard with a gun on his waist who had practiced boxing, and all she could use to fight against was A set of eye exercises. =mouth=

How regretful she was at this moment, that she hadn't repeatedly asked Sherlock to enroll her in a class.

After building up her courage, she rushed out holding the only pointed high heels.

Then, she lost. =dish=

When he woke up again, Rococo was in a dark place and realized that he was being controlled by someone.

"Sherlock Holmes, I know what you are capable of. If you want to bet, do something interesting. How about I bet on a house in my Leinster Gardens, and you bet on your kidney?"

The hoarse voice sounded like that of an old and elderly man.

"It's really fair that you bet on my kidney with an abandoned house."

The voice came from Sherlock.

"Then let's be fair, how about I press her down again?"

After the words fell, Rococo's eyes shone with dazzling lights.

What Sherlock said was true, it was indeed a carnival that would kill him.