[Detective Sherlock] Rococo who sees through everything

Probably the most talented and unique British consulting detective of the 21st century, Sherlock Holmes, lies silently on his bed in the intensive care unit of a central London hospital with his eyes closed.The transparent liquid in the infusion bottle went all the way down the infusion tube, and was poured drop by drop into the blood vessels on Sherlock's arm.

If you ask why the opening chapter is so powerful, Rococo sitting by the hospital bed can only answer you: life is like a play, always being bullied.

When Mycroft called her one afternoon a week ago, she was teasing Sam, her adopted Shiba puppy, and of course Detective Lestrade would not add a man who could tear himself apart at any moment. The "family member" of the pant leg.

"Ms. Rococo, good afternoon." A steady voice came from the other end of the phone.

Rococo threw the small toy in his hand to a corner of the room, cleared his throat and said: "The user you dialed is teasing the dog, please leave a message if you have anything to do, please contact the detective on the second floor of 221B if you have anything urgent, please hang up if you are nothing, thank you for your cooperation. "

Mycroft, who had grown accustomed to this unpaid informant, calmly continued to describe the purpose of the call: "As my stubborn brother's assistant, do you understand that he was trying to solve a The case will choose to take drugs and mix into the drug den?"

Rococo's hand, which was about to take back the plush toy from Sam's mouth, stopped in mid-air, and she switched the phone she had picked up randomly to her right ear: "Wait a minute! What did you just say?!"

"It seems that you don't know." This kind of response is imaginable to Mycroft, "I need you to persuade my brother who is as stubborn as a bison in this respect, Miss Rococo, if you really want to say that someone You are the only one who can stop him."

"Can't you, who is so important in this country, do it?" Rococo had already picked up the key and went downstairs.

"Then I have to violate the law and use my private power to lock him into prison, and then use the world's most cutting-edge binding equipment to control all his limbs." Mycroft joked and then sank his voice again, "I Heard you're out. Good luck."

Rococo hung up the phone and shrugged helplessly, and said to himself: "Then I have to knock Sherlock unconscious to do it?"

Don't say anything at that time, just start the fight, she will definitely protect her face. (/_＼)

When running up to the second floor of 221B, Sherlock was curling his legs up in front of his chest, clasping his palms on his knees.The amount of information in the bubble disappeared the moment she entered the room, and was replaced by another batch of text: [(fine grass clippings at the bottom of the trousers→been to the grass)(the strangle mark on the wrist→holding Crossing the dog leash) (Fresh soil on the side of the shoe → not long before going out) (a small piece of petals attached → apocynaceae only found in the nearest park)]

"Rococo, today is the Saturday you don't want to work the most. You just went to the park to walk your puppy and came to visit you not long ago. You haven't changed your clothes yet..." Sherlock narrowed his eyes and frowned. , came to the conclusion, "Do you have something urgent to ask me?"

"I don't have anything to ask of you, and Sam is a two-year-old male dog." She walked straight to him, her tone turned serious, "I just heard that sir, you are going to take drugs for a case? You Haven't you heard the slogan 'cherish life, refuse drugs'?"

Drug abuse hurts the spleen, lungs, liver, everything =. =

Rococo likes to stand, because it can observe Sherlock's bubbles most intuitively.

[Rococo sources → Mycroft? ]

Sherlock looked at Rococo standing in front of her from top to bottom, with a disapproving expression: "This is all for a case, Rococo, have you heard of 'London's Good Morning Kiss'? There have been three consecutive The prostitutes near the gambling dens were..."

"Even if it's 'North Atlantic Beat', you shouldn't be taking drugs!" Rococo interrupted him after making up a word.

She didn't understand, if this case was related to a group of elderly people in their 70s and [-]s, would Sherlock want to mix in with the crowd dancing in the square?

Sherlock was speechless, looked away silently, and sank into the sofa.

[Let’s find a way to get rid of Rococo first. ]

Rococo sighed, folded his hands on his chest, and walked to the window to lean against. It seemed that this was a protracted battle.

She didn't know how she should face Sherlock's use of his talents to get rid of her, so she should be a little excited to see it so well.

_(:з)∠)_

"Do you know how time consuming it is to have a puppy? It won't even walk itself like most people on the road, it takes up a huge amount of time. Have you ever seen those dog walkers? They are stupidly led by the dog walking, and waiting to be cleaned up while they poop..."

"Please don't change the subject, sir. Also, as I said, Sam's not a puppy. And, I don't think your brain is going to be loaded with how dogs are raised." Rococo interrupted.

Sherlock tilted his head in the direction where Rococo was standing, and said casually, "I used to raise dogs."

Rococo tried hard to suppress the breath that was about to burst out of his chest: "Sir, we are not talking about dogs, we are talking about..."

"Rococo, have you never heard of 'London's Good Morning Kiss'? This is the first time I have encountered such a case. Three drugged prostitutes were found dead on the guest's bed. They were said to be full of energy at night. During the I haven't been out, but..." Sherlock became more and more excited as he spoke.

"Sir..." Rococo leaned against the wall, looking at Sherlock who was getting more and more restless, but her voice was obviously filtered out by him.

"They were found foaming at the mouth and dead on the bed by the guests in the early morning of the second day. They..."

Finally, Rococo couldn't hold back, and finally let out her suppressed breath, and her clear voice echoed in the room: "Sherlock!"

This sound stopped the detective from talking, he straightened up from the sofa, and turned to look at her.

Rococo has a serious face, and the sunlight outside the window sprinkles on her hair, fragments.

"Mr. Sherlock Holmes," she snapped, "we're not talking about dog breeding and the damn 'Good Morning London Kiss', we're talking about you and your next stupid drug-taking move to solve a crime! "

Sure enough, from the very beginning, we shouldn't negotiate in a civilized way, and the best policy is to fight directly.It's better to be beaten to death than mad.

o(￣ヘ￣o#)

This was the first time Sherlock saw Rococo's sharp words, so he stopped there and looked at her quietly.

The word [Send Rococo] is crossed out in its entirety.

"Oh... I heard some noise upstairs, so I came to take a look." Mrs. Hudson poked her head in from the door, "Did you have a fight?"

No, it's just that she wanted to tear her up unilaterally.And Sherlock wanted to have a calm chat with her about dog breeding.

But the two of them were silent for the second time.

"I've seen a lot of quarrels. The couple next door also had conflicts over small things a few days ago, but they'll be fine after they sleep. You can..."

Sherlock reacted before Rococo, who was dumbfounded, interrupted her calmly: "Mrs. Hudson, your stew is going to be overcooked. Then I advise you to buy a carton of milk."

Mrs. Hudson looked surprised: "Oh! My stew." Then she turned and ran down the stairs.

There was another silence.It’s just that Rococo’s head is full of Mrs. Hudson’s “sleep”, and in Sherlock’s bubble, several small windows are enlarged, and the front one [preferred option: investigation after drug abuse and drug den] is marked on Two lines were drawn, one shallow and thin, and then interspersed with their previous conversation. The last few sentences of Rococo were enlarged and bolded. Wire.

Rococo was stunned. According to Mycroft, Sherlock Holmes, who could only be pulled back from a road by being "locked in prison and bound his limbs", changed his mind.

Sherlock glanced at Rococo, got up and walked into the room. After a few minutes, he changed his coat and straightened his neckline: "Let's go Rococo, then investigate in another way."

-

If Rococo knew what might happen next, she would definitely choose to stay here and continue talking about dog breeding with Sherlock.

Sherlock's alternative is to secretly infiltrate the drug den.When he twisted the poor insider's wrist and bumped it against a wall on the ground floor of the abandoned building, the iron door behind him opened. No one expected that there would be a drug deal here today.

With the black muzzle and shiny blade, Rococo swallowed several times.On these personal bubbles, it is written [Kill them! ]

This kind of coincidence is simply, a dog's day.

Sherlock's brain turned quickly, he pushed the poor insider forward, took Rococo's hand, and fled in one direction.They turned around a few times and were about to run out of the building, but Sherlock stopped in front of the lighted door.

"What do you want to do?" he asked towards the seemingly empty exit.

Then Rococo also looked at it, first showing half of it floating [Kill you! ] bubbles, and then a bald man walked in from the side of the door.

She almost forgot that doing bad things is always rewarding.

He raised a gun, but Sherlock, unafraid, charged straight up.

God, are there any normal people here?

If the gun had been pointed at Sherlock, he probably would have been able to dodge it, but this one turned and aimed at Rococo as Sherlock took a step.

Rococo was very tired, but fortunately her benevolent boss had provided her with medical insurance since that time.It's a pity that medical insurance is a dispensable scum in front of the gun.

The speed of pistol bullets is generally 300 meters per second, Rococo speed... She remembered that Sherlock once compared her to a Brazilian turtle.

She heard gunshots and Sherlock yelled a resounding "No!"

Then?Then the drug dealer lay down on the ground, but Luo Keke stood still.

Obviously, Rococo, who sees through everything, does not have bulletproof armor, so the only one who has done all this is the detective in the martial art S.

"Mr. God, you are my idol." Rococo stopped after saying this, and her idol watched him turn around blankly, the piece of clothes on his chest was covered with blood like a flower Soggy.

Time stood still for an instant, and this was the first time since Rococo followed Sherlock on his adventures, he felt panic from the inside out.

She tried to hold Sherlock up, and when she got close to him, she could skim into his bubbles very confused, and seemed desperate to calm down.

"Mr. Holmes, don't scare me." She couldn't help him, so she could only slide him down a little bit, and then she saw the drug dealers chasing after them and surrounded them.

Luo Keke didn't even bother to listen to what the leading drug lord was saying, let alone to see some ghost bubbles.

"Tell me what to do! Quickly tell me what to do Sherlock!" She changed her address unconsciously.

Sherlock's lips moved, and Rococo pressed it.

"You pressed...my wound..."