[Detective Sherlock] Rococo who sees through everything

Weekends allow people to relax after a busy working day, and it even undertakes important missions such as stimulating domestic demand and regulating national satisfaction... However, for Rococo, weekends are of no use. ←_← Not long after she got home from 221B, she received a call from Detective Lestrade.

"Rococo, I'm afraid I have to trouble you to come here. We need to use the anti-drug as an excuse to pressure Sherlock to tell us some important clues. You should be able to help us in this regard."

I have to say that the police detectives are very smart in this regard. Since they can't catch the murderer, they should find someone who can find the murderer.

"Detective, what a pity, I'm now in Edinburgh, 400 miles away." Rococo glanced at the wall clock on the wall, she didn't want to be on duty at this time.

"...Rococo, I saw that the lights in your house are on. You don't have to go to the police station, it's 221B opposite your house." Detective Lestrade silently supported his forehead. A subordinate who excuses being lazy.

Rococo's first reaction was to look at the window, but luckily the curtains were drawn so she wasn't exposed.Which means it's time to keep talking nonsense.

"Of course the light is on in my house. You know the detective, Sam is afraid of the dark, so I often leave a light for him."

What do you do when you have a subordinate who can always blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah to make.Detective Lestrade was very distressed and could only admit defeat and hang up the phone.

Rococo proudly petted Sam, who had come rushing to him when he heard his name. This lively little male dog has completely walked out of the shadow of losing his former owner. Now his bubbles are filled with sausages, or just watching while walking in the park. Which little bitch came.

After a while, Rococo walked to the window and opened the curtains a little bit, revealing some visible gaps. The interior of 221B is brightly lit, but the curtains keep out any appreciable air bubbles.From time to time, a few passers-by passed by on the road. Fortunately, they all had ordinary bubbles on their heads.Also, if there is a palace in everyone's bubble, then Rococo may poke his eyes. (:3つ)3

Just as he was about to close the curtains again, a black taxi that slowly stopped at the door of 221B attracted Rococo's idea. To be precise, it was the taxi driver's bubbles that blocked Rococo's sight.

The dark bubbles emerging from the top of the taxi, and the shadows flowing in it alone, give people a deep sense of depression.The taxi driver opened the door, and when he poked his head out, Rococo could see the image inside the bubble completely: a dark background, an elderly male taxi driver with oval glasses and an old knitted jacket stood In the center, he seems to be holding a bottle of pills in his hand, and at his feet lie four cold corpses, three of which Rococo has seen pictures in the police station, and the other is a woman dressed in pink from top to bottom woman.But this taxi driver stood fearlessly in the darkness, staring ahead with a mocking smile on the corner of his mouth. The extension of the darkness was his next target. Way Alignment - Sherlock Holmes.

Sherlock can even attract the hatred of taxi drivers, and he is an old driver who killed four people in a row =. =?

Rococo continued to look at the taxi driver from the window. His legs and feet did not look as flexible as a serial killer should have.He knocked on the door of 221B, and it was Mrs. Hudson who answered.

[Sherlock Holmes hails a taxi. ]

What he was talking about, Rococo could see clearly, he was so handsome.

Mrs. Hudson turned around, probably going upstairs to call Sherlock, and the killer driver followed behind.If nothing else, there are now nearly ten police officers in 221B, including Detective Lestrade who called her earlier.

Fortunately, he is an old driver, who killed so many people and broke into the police pile. (-"-)

When Rocco threw himself into the trap for the old driver, he walked out from the main entrance of 221B unscathed, leaned against the taxi door, and then Sherlock followed.

Sherlock seemed to have guessed the identity of the old driver, but the large number of question marks in his bubble told Rococo that this alone was not enough to satisfy him.

and so……

Rong Rococo sighed first and then held his forehead. She could already guess what Sherlock would do.

Sherlock, the search for the truth and the answer is far more than the meaning of catching the real murderer itself.

And his opponent, a cunning old driver who killed four people in a row, showed no fear of death in his bubble.

When the conversation between the two developed to the point where the old driver confidently told Sherlock [I just want to talk to you, and then you will commit suicide], Rococo was not calm.

"Sam, take a good look at the house. If any strange person comes in, you don't have to worry about biting to death."

Rococo patted the Shiba Inu on the head, then put on his coat and rushed down to the second floor.

So what about the weekend, it's useless.

-

A few seconds before the taxi started, Rococo opened the door and got in.

"There are still seats available, don't you mind taking another person?" She glanced at Sherlock, who frowned, apparently quite surprised by Rococo's appearance.

"Oh? Miss Rococo?" The old driver glanced at the mirror, "Then come together, I don't mind taking one more person."

Fuck me, when did she draw the hatred of the old driver, does she give a tip every time she hails a taxi?

"Do taxi drivers check their identities before picking up passengers now?" Luo Keke looked through the mirror and saw the old driver's eyes hidden behind the glass lenses, and her determination made her hairy.

The old driver twitched the corner of his mouth and started the car directly.

"Why are you here?" Sherlock lowered his voice and looked at Rococo.

"Then why are you here? This is not the time for a ride." She asked back.

"I'm looking for the truth." Sherlock said seriously, as if telling Rococo that she shouldn't be here.

Rococo met Sherlock's eyes, she smiled, but her tone was more serious: "I'm preventing another tombstone in the cemetery, yours."

Sherlock froze for a moment, didn't look back, looked ahead, and stopped searching for Rococo's actions.

As the vehicle moved forward, in Sherlock's bubble, apart from a map of London marked with the red route along the way, there were also some clues that he could notice.But at this time, Rococo pays more attention to the bubbles of the old driver.Only a small part could be seen in the car, but she could read from the slightly trembling text that he was not fearless all the time, but there was something that strengthened his determination to kill.

"How did you hear about us?"

Sherlock spoke suddenly, and one of his words included "Rococo".

"I recognized you when you were stalking me, Sherlock Holmes. I've heard about your greatness and visited your brilliant website." He paused, "One of your admirers and I You have been mentioned, of course, and you too, Miss Rococo, Holmes' former assistant."

The word "before" was bitten hard by him.

"Oh, it's really an honor." Rococo mocked, "Since I got on this car, are you going to end up with one more?"

He remembered Sherlock because of his extraordinary detective skills and "deductive method", but he remembered Rococo only because of her title of "former assistant".

"He also specifically mentioned to me that Sherlock Holmes valued Miss Rococo. Now that you are in the car, it doesn't matter if there is another tombstone in the cemetery."

What happened to the string in front of Miss Rococo? =mouth=

She glanced at Sherlock, his face was expressionless, and he still glanced out the window from time to time to look at the old driver.

"Who is this admirer?" Sherlock asked.

"It's a pity that you can only know so much in this lifetime."

At the same time, a name flashed in the old driver's bubble, which was mostly covered by the roof of the car. Before Luo Keke had time to fill in the missing letters, the name disappeared.

She hates taking taxis.

The car stopped next to a building, and the old driver got out and walked around to the window.

"Where is this?" Sherlock had a map of London in his mind, obviously he was asking knowingly.

"You know London like the back of your hand, you know where this is." The old driver pointed him out.

"Roland Kerr Academy." Sherlock said the address.

Rococo took out his mobile phone and was about to send a text message to Detective Lestrade, but was held down by Sherlock with one hand, but his gaze was still on the old driver outside the window.

"Then how are you going to let us in?"

The old driver directly raised a gun.

"Oh...so boring." Sherlock complained helplessly.

Someone holds a gun at you, and Sherlock is probably the only one who can say it's boring.

But the old driver finally put down his gun. He thought that Sherlock would follow without forcing him, so he turned around and walked in front without any scruples.

"Hey..." Luo Keke sighed.

Only then did Sherlock look sideways at Rococo sitting beside him, and let go of the hand that had been holding Rococo's wrist.

"I don't want those idiots at Scotland Yard messing things up until I know all about it," he was explaining to her.

But he forgot that "those fools at Scotland Yard" included Rococo. o(￣ヘ￣o#)

"Before your body was lying in this training school?" Rococo looked at him and asked back, took a deep breath and opened the car door, "Then let's go, I hope I can live to send out the half-pressed short message interest."

Sherlock watched Rococo get out of the car, thought for a few seconds and opened the door.

The old driver took them to a hall with several long tables, he pulled out a chair, and sat down facing Sherlock.

"Miss Rococo, don't be restrained." He pointed to the place next to Sherlock.

"I can just stand up." Her current height allows her to clearly see Sherlock and the old driver's bubbles.

[①(shaving cream behind the cheeks-no one to remind-living alone)②(photos of cut mother’s children+new photo frame→you love these children so much, but can’t meet each other)(①②→divorced or separated father); (Old clothes that are more than three years old - in order to maintain the status quo ≠ murder) → (time is running out, terminal illness); (the real reason for killing is related to children, what is it?)]

From the moment Sherlock sat down, Rococo saw in his bubble a poor low-income driver who was abandoned by his wife and could not see his children and was terminally ill.

The highlight was the two small bottles of pills that the old driver took out from his pocket. According to him, one bottle was poisonous and the other was not.

But this is not the case, because Rococo has seen through everything, and both bottles are poison.

[As long as Sherlock is killed, my children will have nothing to worry about for the rest of their lives, and I will be considered worthwhile at the end of my life. ]

These few words were firmly captured by Rococo.

"Originally it was just me and you, Mr. Holmes, but now there are more people, and the rules of the game need to be adjusted a little bit." He took out another bottle of pills from his pocket, "Of the three bottles of pills, only one is poisonous, there is a great chance Isn’t it, one bottle per person, you choose first, and I will eat with you at the same time after choosing.”

Choose from three bottles of poison for me =. =

"No, it has nothing to do with her." Sherlock rejected the proposal expressionlessly. He had already analyzed the characteristics of the three bottles of medicine in his bubble, circled every detail and compared them one by one. The answer is [exactly the same].

"Since I chose to take a taxi, that means I joined voluntarily. Besides..." Rococo looked at the old driver, "Obviously he won't let me quit this game that has already started."

The old driver sneered: "Mr. Holmes, it seems that your admirer is right. You really have a very good relationship. However, all of this will end today. I have killed four people in a row. This is not only Luckily, I always win this psychological game, and it only takes one step to do it."

Then he pushed two of the three bottles of medicine in front of Sherlock: "Think about it, is there any poison in the two bottles I gave you, or is one of them poisonous? Which bottle do you want to give Miss Rococo? "

The two bottles of medicine appeared in Sherlock's bubble. He compared them again and came to the same conclusion as before. Finally, he made a big cross on the result.

"What is there to choose, only a 33% winning rate..."

"You're not betting against the odds, you're betting against me!" The old driver interrupted him, "Think about it again, which bottle is the poison. Am I playing hard to get? Or am I just playing tricks?"

—Neither, you're lying.

No matter how fancy and gaudy the adjective, Rococo knew he was lying.

"I know what people will think, and I know what people will think of me." The old driver smiled confidently.

In the eyes of Rococo, such words are simply ridiculous.She's the one who can see what people think.

"So, what do you think I'm thinking?" Rococo interjected into the topic.

"Rococo." Sherlock called her name, signaling her not to speak.

However, Luo Keke couldn't bear it: "Tell me, what do you think I am thinking now?"

"This is just a psychological warfare metaphor, but I understand that you are thinking about how to make Holmes not challenge this game. But you can't do it, because you know that he will choose another one more than you. "The old driver looked at Rococo provocatively, as if to test whether what he said was right.

"Then it's my turn." Luo Keke didn't intend to back down. She stuck to the edge of the table and put one hand on the cold surface of the long table, "I know what you are thinking too. Separated from the two places, you miss your children very much and want to do something for them, but the disease is about to wear you down. But why do you want to kill people for this..."

She paused, she was waiting for the old driver's bubble to jump out of the answer, "Oh, I should know. Every time you kill a person, you will get a sum of money, right? Although I don't know where you got it This errand, but I guess that's the real reason you kill, you want to do something for your kids, but driving a taxi can't do it, killing people can."

In the bubble, the poor and humble old driver who couldn't see his children and was terminally ill found the meaning of living from a certain sponsor. Whenever he killed a person, his children would receive a remittance.

Luo Keke thought of the dark and irrelevant bubble of the old driver. He was useless at first, and he could bring wealth to the children he owed by just using his professional convenience to kill people, so he was firm and fearless.

"It seems that I finally know why you guys came together." The old driver was a little surprised. The word "child" made him look away, but his mouth still refused to let go. "You are as talented as Sherlock Holmes, but unfortunately today The world is losing a pair of geniuses."

Congratulations, she just opened up her vision.

By the way, they didn't come together, but parted ways for a long time.

"Yes, I have a sponsor. As long as I kill people, he will send money to my children. The more I kill, the better they will live..."

The old driver didn't finish his sentence, the last sentence was only in his bubble: [The last huge sum of money can be obtained by killing Sherlock. ]

"Who would sponsor a murderer?" Sherlock was puzzled, there was not a single case in his bubble so far.

"And who would be an admirer of Sherlock Holmes?"

[Sponsor of the murderer = my admirer]

They are the same person.

The old driver continued: "You are not the only one who is obsessed with the case, there are many others. And you are fighting alone, but there are many of them."

"What do you mean? Lots of people?"

"There is a name that everyone won't mention, and neither will I." The old driver hung his appetite, but this time Rococo saw it: [Criminal Advisor - Moriarty]

Just based on the literal meaning, one can probably guess that if Sherlock is a consultant detective who helps the police, then this person is the brain of the criminal who advises the criminals.

This world is too scary.

"Okay, it's time to choose." The old driver changed the topic to the medicine bottle again.

And now Sherlock has only one puzzle left, about "that name".

When all the puzzles were almost cleared up, Sherlock glanced at Rococo standing beside him and said, "Then I won't choose, just leave."

The gun was raised again, and Rococo's heart that was about to hang was relieved after seeing Sherlock's bubble.

There is a gun library in his thinking palace, where all the guns in the world can be found here, and the answer after comparison is - [a lighter with a caliber of 9×19mm. ]

Hmm...it's a gun-shaped lighter. _(:з」∠)_

"I choose the gun, let's go." The corners of Sherlock's mouth curved slightly.

The old driver panicked. He changed the direction of the gun and pointed it at Rococo.

"What about this? Are you still not going to choose?"

"Give me some human rights, why don't you let me choose?" Rococo was very dissatisfied with the way the old driver always let Sherlock choose.

"Rococo……"

"But you'd better shoot." Rococo interrupted Sherlock directly, raising his chin, "How can a policeman survive without a few bullet holes in his body?"

Thus, the old driver finally had a normal exclamation in his bubble: [These two lunatics!]

With a "click", a small beam of flame emerged from the muzzle of the gun.

"When I see a gun, I can tell if it's real or not. It's very interesting. I'll see you in court." Sherlock got up, "Let's go, Rococo, go and finish sending your text messages."

Very interesting... =. =

"Before you leave, I want to know if you have figured it out?" The old driver persisted, "Tell me which bottle is poisonous."

"Of course, it's all child's play."

"Oh, really, then choose a bottle and let me see who is smarter." The old driver smiled.

These are not the old driver's ideas, Luo Ke may see that the old driver is recalling, words popped out one by one from the memory bank, everything he does now is taught him by others.Who else, the unnamed criminal consultant.

Sherlock stopped and turned back, Rococo was drunk.

"It's enough for you to choose. For you, it's a 66.67% chance." The old driver made a gesture of invitation.

Sherlock picked up the bottle in front of the old driver.

"Wait a minute, Mr. Holmes, calm down." Rococo followed him.

"Oh, I think he's very calm and confident, so why don't you eat it with me. See if you really see through. You're so smart, what's the use of wit if you don't prove it Woolen cloth……"

Fortunately, he is an old driver, so don't fly your mouth too much.

Sherlock had already unscrewed the cap.

"...Like a drug addict, these things can make people addicted, you try your best to keep yourself from being bored. You are not bored now, are you?"

When the old driver's bubble was already filled with the chance of winning, it was obvious that the two gamers had forgotten the Rococo on the side.

"Damn it, shut up!"

There is no need to doubt that the pronunciation of the swear word "fucking trough" comes from standard Mandarin.

Luo Keke knew that she couldn't stop Sherlock with her own skills, she took out a coin from her pants pocket with her left hand, and called his name: "Sherlock!"

Sherlock stopped and looked at Rococo.

She successfully diverted his attention from the capsule to her. She held up the coin and spoke slowly: "Don't talk about being wise, let's try our luck. The capsule on the front side is poisonous, and you will die if you eat the other side. Hurry up!" choose one!"

This is the same question given by the old driver, except that Rococo is more direct.

These words seemed to open a floodgate, and the "Rococo" who tossed a coin in the thinking palace at the moment of life and death half a year ago crossed Sherlock's bubble, and overlapped with the Rococo who held the coin in front of him.

Rococo just stood there holding the coin, looking at him motionless.

[coincide? ]

Sherlock began to wonder why the scene was so similar.

"Why don't you take it? You obviously..." The old driver was stunned. He watched Sherlock put the capsule back into the bottle and knocked it on the table.

"Although I'm addicted, I'm not out of control." Sherlock approached the old driver who started to panic step by step, and then Rococo heard him say, "You have no love in life, and I don't."

"Now, tell me, who is your patron, my admirer?"

"No, I won't say it." The old driver quickly stuffed the capsule into his mouth and swallowed it.

Sherlock's brain quickly began to calculate how long it would take for the medicine to slide from the gag into the stomach. Rococo almost didn't think about it. He pinched one of the old driver's arms, and then the old driver screamed in pain.

"Tell me, who is it?" Sherlock raised his voice and increased his strength.

Rococo clutched his arm and stepped back, it hurt so much.

Finally, the dying old driver gave a name——Moriarty, the name that once crossed the old driver's bubble.

Sherlock seemed to be relieved. After silently repeating the name, he let go of his hand and looked back at Rococo, who was covering his arm and looking at him.

"Are you ok?"

"Fortunately, it's just a heart failure." Rococo replied honestly.

"..."

-

Beside the ambulance, Detective Lestrade was very dissatisfied with Rococo's actions: "Rococo, didn't you say you were in Edinburgh two and a half hours ago?"

"I'm back in a hurry." Rococo pretended to be serious and defended.

"It only takes one hour from Edinburgh to London by plane." When Roco could perjure Sherlock's lie that she wanted to help her, he continued, "But as far as I know, the only flight from Edinburgh tonight The flight to England is in the morning."

Rococo:"……"

Rococo silently pushed Sherlock aside: "Sherlock, who are you helping?"

She doesn't want to lose her job for cheating her boss during her internship QAQ

"If you need, I have 21 plans to get from Edinburgh to London within two hours." Sherlock paused, "But you have to tell me..."

"Tell you?"

Every time I hear the word Rococo, I feel so guilty. The loopholes in her words and demeanor are like a big net of holes in Sherlock's eyes.

"Tell me what's the explanation for that 'what'sup' you said earlier?"

Sherlock and Rococo stood very close, but she knew without looking up that he was asking the phrase "fuck".

Fuck = what'sup

Oh my god...it really reads like it.

"Forget it, don't help me..." Luo Keke's mood is very delicate now.

She wanted to sigh: what'sup...