[Comprehensive] Today is also proving to Sherlock that I am a traveler

You can't discuss any privacy issues with Sherlock, or you'll be pissed off.

Krista, who understands this deeply, doesn't bother at all about how Sherlock picked her newly changed lock.She ignored Sherlock and went to the kitchen to pour herself a glass of water.

The piano wires that had been arranged in the house were removed after Mrs. Hudson accidentally touched them when she came in with a strawberry biscuit one time, but there was one less reason for Sherlock to analyze it for a long time.

"Remember to leave before eight o'clock. When you leave, take out all the etiquette you have learned over the years, and close the door for me, thank you."

Eight o'clock was the time for the talk show, and she didn't want some big detective here to spoil her time.

Sherlock sat up and leaned against the cushions, "The second floor is too noisy."

"Oh." It's none of her business.

Christa responded indifferently, and walked towards the bedroom while pulling on the pink rabbit slippers.

Sherlock looked at her back and paused, "The rich Arab businessman we met at the dinner last time was beaten up by a group of delinquent boys in the London neighborhood, stripped and thrown on Green Avenue. He reported to Scotland Yard The case was closed as a premeditated murder."

She stopped in her tracks, tilted her head slightly, and said in a cold tone, "So?"

She ordered someone to do this. Several days have passed, and it is impossible to report the case today.

Sherlock intentionally brought up this matter, but it can only be said that it was... with ulterior motives.

"So? I don't think it's a coincidence." He raised his eyebrows.

"When did you, an extraordinary detective, start to care about such trivial cases? Are there no murders in London for you to study? That's really great, the world is peaceful." He said in his usual sarcastic and mean tone.

"Oh, it's so boring that there haven't been any serial murders in London recently. Christa, there are no cases to make the brain work, and your brain is almost covered with rust."

"Sherlock, there is no way to rust the brain. I suggest you go to the hospital as soon as possible. An ophthalmologist or a psychiatrist will do."

"Krista, don't change the subject so stupidly!" He continued without pausing: "The guy bought three 'finches' at auction, and the Arab reported to Scotland Yard that someone had kidnapped His two wives and his wife's sister."

Christa paused with her finger on the doorknob, "Are there children in those 'birds'?"

Her surprised expression did not seem to be fake, but he still believed that this matter had something to do with Christa.

Christa was too lazy to continue to deal with his temptation, "Mr. Detective, go back to your own room! I think you stay in my room, and even your breathing affects my mood."

After finishing speaking, she turned around and entered the bedroom, locking the door behind her.

Sherlock watched her slam the door, lowered his head and took out a gold pocket watch from under him.

Christa came back half an hour earlier than he expected, but it didn't matter, at least the things were found.

It was the piece that Krista took out of her pocket last time.

Purely hand-made, the square-inch dial is engraved with countless complicated and delicate patterns.

He groped carefully along the uneven lines, and when he touched a shallow notch, he pressed hard, and with a "click", the lower part of the dial was split into two halves.

Sherlock turned the pocket watch over, and the bottom of the dial that was divided into two halves revealed a... metal piece of the right size and thickness embedded in it.

He was a little surprised.

Only two lines of the date are engraved on the metal plate

-

1993.04.24

1997.07.18

In 1997, the car accident in which her mother died was just five years ago, but the later time did not match, the car accident happened in June.

As for the previous 1993, he analyzed it for a while, but he couldn't figure out what the significance of this date was to Krista.

All of Christa's secrets are undoubtedly contained in these two lines of dates.

She would soon have nothing to hide from him.

He raised his lips confidently, restored the pocket watch to its original shape, and put it back into the windbreaker pocket that Krista hung on the floor hanger.

Sherlock had already left when Christa walked out of the bedroom after taking a shower.

She tied her freshly dried hair into a fluffy ponytail, and walked to the hanger to throw the windbreaker into the washing machine.When he picked up the clothes, there was a rustling sound in the pocket of the windbreaker, like the collision of metal.

She blinked before remembering that she had left her pocket watch in her pocket.

And it seemed that within a short time of entering the room, her watch was...dissected.

Christa was holding the watch chain, and the dial below was dangling in the air, she could only sigh helplessly.

She specially invited someone to make this pocket watch after the one in her previous life. The appearance is almost the same as the original one, but it is simplified a lot, and only the core technology is retained.

-

The information stored in the watch can only be read once, and if it is opened and closed again, the internal information in the watch will be corroded by strong acid immediately.

From then on, this pocket watch that she kept as a commemoration of her previous life was really just a souvenir.

A very expensive souvenir.

Find Sherlock for compensation, anyway, McCoff looks rich, as a good brother, of course he will be responsible for the mistakes made by the naive brother!

After all, if this thing is broken, it will be of little value to her. If it is redone, she can't ask her to pay for it.

She is just a poor student.

When Krista stood knocking on the door on the second floor, someone finally opened the door for her this time.

It's Cecil.

The sleeves of his shirt were half-folded to the elbow, and a red sandalwood Buddha bead was hung on a section of his bright wrist. When he didn't speak, he really looked like a fairy in the painting.

Christa froze when her gaze passed over his wrist. There are very few people in Europe who believe in Buddhism, and most of them believe in Catholicism. The last person she saw who believed in Buddhism was Jiang Qile.

Seven joys, seven joys, correspond to the seven sufferings of life that Buddhism says.

Jiang Qile didn't believe in religion at first, but one day he suddenly started to believe in gods and Buddhas. She also asked the reason at that time, but Jiang Qile just smiled and said nothing.

Jiang Qile is an extremely paranoid person, she must be perfect in everything she does, even her beliefs are the same, it can be said that her beliefs are almost to the point of madness.

It's a pity that none of the gods and Buddhas in the heavens can bless her.

Like her, Jiang Qile died on the eve of her birthday. In the end, she buried Jiang Qile's ashes under the trellis of newly blooming roses, and accompanied the lonely ghosts under the flowers and leaves.

Maybe she was also lucky to be reborn in a world that didn't belong to them, maybe she really slept forever in the dark soil since then, decaying with time.

Speaking of it, it seems that after a while, she will also celebrate her birthday in this life.

……right?

"Krista? Do you have something to do so late?" The novelist was wearing pajamas, and her confused voice brought her back to reality.

"I came to see Sherlock for something." She lowered her eyelashes and said softly.

"Ah...then you come in first. Mr. Holmes is doing an experiment." He stroked the prayer beads on his wrist and smiled.

"Thank you." Seeing him turn sideways, Christa thanked him politely, "By the way, Cecil, do you also believe in Buddhism? It's rare in Europe?"

Cecil smiled: "No, I don't believe in religion. But I said that I was writing a new novel. There is a Buddhist in it. In order to get closer to the character, I decided to experience it myself. Mr. Holmes speculated The Greek beach I go to is also for the novel."

"...you must be a good writer." Christa nodded knowingly, "I'm looking forward to this story."

"Ah... this story, I also like it very much. The first draft has been completed for one third, and it will be published next year!" The novelist mentioned that his work is extraordinarily confident.

"Yeah, that's awesome." She said as she looked at Sherlock who was doing the experiment.

Sherlock looked up impatiently: "You two can talk nonsense not so loudly, it's just noise."

Unmoved, Christa took out her pocket watch and threw it in front of Sherlock, "Mr. Detective, could you please explain?"

"Explain what?"

"Explain why you took my watch apart and broke it." Although the "breaking" matter was... only partially related to Sherlock, Krista was not prepared to explain.

Once you explain Sherlock, you can definitely put all the responsibility on her, okay?

"No way! It was fine when I left, Krista, it must be your fault."

Sherlock took the pocket watch, and sure enough, he saw that the pointer was fixed at a certain place, about half an hour after he left.

"I didn't think about density!"

Christa looked at him, smiled without saying a word, her eyes were as sharp as a knife.

"Okay." Sherlock put down the pocket watch. This layer of design was really exquisite, and he didn't consider it.

"Chenghui is equivalent to 24.7 pounds. Euros, dollars, pounds, and renminbi are all acceptable. The exchange rate is calculated in real time. Card or cash?"

……

Sherlock shook his head honestly, "...too expensive."

Can not afford?

Christa sneered: "Then you can only choose to sell yourself to repay the debt."

The author has something to say: oops, I forgot to mention it, I only remembered it when I saw the cute comment, because the title of the article wrote a comprehensive oh, the worldview behind it is not purely scientific, there will be a little bit of strange elements, I'm sorry for the little cuties who mind! (The author bows online)

I don't want to write about solving crimes... I just want to write about falling in love, but I can't talk about falling in love... Maybe I'm poisonous.

I really tried my best (covering my face), a group of people sang there, and I typed silently by myself...

Jiang Qile, a perfect white moonlight who lives in the slightest memories, the status of Sherlock's hero is not guaranteed.

Some fragments of Sisi's memories will be interspersed in the text, after all, her life didn't start after she met Sherlock...

And, from the perspective of God, everyone can guess the meaning of those two lines of dates.