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

"I'm not really mad, but Sherlock—" she paused, drawn out, "I thought you'd learn something from breaking my watch last time, but alas, you didn't. Why can't you respect your privacy?"

There was very obvious confusion in her tone, she really couldn't understand what Sherlock was doing.No matter what kind of education she has received, she has no such content, and she has never met someone as special as Sherlock.

Sherlock lowered his head and slowed down his speech, "I admit that this is my fault. Well... If you need it, I will ask for your permission next time."

Christa didn't expect him to admit his mistake so well, but was slightly taken aback.

"I thought we were still friends?" Sherlock asked uncertainly.

friend?This noun made her unable to resist the slight arc of her lips, and answered him softly under the lights of the city: "We have reconciled, of course we are still friends."

After a pause, she emphasized every word: "In some ways, you are my first friend and the only one."

After finishing speaking, the corners of her lips slightly raised a little.

Sherlock's eyes reflected the girl's beautiful face with a bit of undeveloped color, like the first white rose blooming in the May wind.Her identity as a mixed-race endowed her with beautiful genes from the East and the West. In the land of London, she has a sense of exotic mystery that people can't help but find out.

There are too many mysteries about her, just like the fog that permeates the whole of London, and only when he pushes away the fog, reveals the realest and softest inside.

He almost lost his mind for a moment.

"Perhaps I should be honored to be your only friend." Sherlock spread his hands.

Krista pursed her lips, noncommittal.

"You like that little girl just now." Seeing that she was no longer angry, Sherlock calmly began to talk about other things.

"She's cute." Christa thought for a while and added, "Much cuter than you."

"I don't think I have such a thing, it's a ridiculous illusion created by your inflexible brain. Did you ask her name?" Sherlock lifted his lips and spit out a line of sentences indifferently.

When asked suddenly, Christa shook her head subconsciously: "No. It's just a chance encounter, there is no need to ask these."

Seeing that she hadn't reacted yet, Sherlock lightly mentioned: "Cecil's second story."

She instantly compared the plot written by the novelist in her memory with that of the mother and daughter—they were also oriental immigrants, street performers, and the mother and daughter depended on each other. Like the previous Marcus incident, they all seemed to be copying the plot of the novel. background setting.

She hesitated for a moment, "That child—"

Sherlock had passed her, and glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, "There will be no danger for the time being. In Cecil's second story, didn't the girl come back safely?"

"In the novel, it's because the detective arrived in time. In reality, it wouldn't be such a coincidence." Krista frowned worriedly.

"Do you think I'm inferior to a fictional character?" Sherlock was unhappy.

"No. But in reality, all kinds of uncontrollable accidents will happen. So how can a child react the same as in the book?" She turned around, "I want to see that girl again, if necessary... ..."

Christa paused for a moment, a rare cold look flashed across her eyes, "I will take her back to 221B temporarily."

"As long as you're happy." Sherlock didn't care about it, "Also, I went to Bertram's school."

It took Christa a moment to realize that this was the youngest son of Valentin Marcus.

"What kind of person is he?" Christa saw that his expression fluctuated a little, and probably guessed that Bertram was a relatively important clue in the eyes of a certain detective.

Sherlock snorted, "What kind of person? A poor little goldfish who is stupid and ignorant. He probably has an ocean in his mind!"

"It has nothing to do with him?" Krista closed her eyes and couldn't help muttering to herself.

"It's related. Although he doesn't have enough brains to be the mastermind behind the scenes, he must know some information related to the cause of his father's death. If it wasn't for the damned school bell that made him run away, I can definitely ask for clues."

Sherlock was dissatisfied.

"So someone helped him plan the Van Lundin case. Julia and Demps want to take the whole estate because Demps owes a huge sum of money to the underground casino. But Bertram is just a high school student, There is no expense, so why do we have to fight for this inheritance? We even use all means for it.” The more Christa said, the more uncomfortable she felt in her heart.

Sherlock: "If Burtram doesn't take hallucinogens, he doesn't need these inheritances. Things like hallucinogens will drive people with poor self-control crazy."

"Someone deliberately induced Bertram to inhale this thing, so that he could become an obedient pawn in his hands." Christa frowned in disgust.

"Speaking of the sleazy casino where Dempsey owes a bad debt, Cecil's second story takes that kid there too. I think we might have to go sometime when we get a chance."

"I've already been there. According to the address in the novel, there was indeed a casino there in the last century, but it closed down early. Now it's a flower shop."

"That's it." Krista was slightly stunned, and then silently crossed out this decision from the bottom of her heart.

"If the casino didn't exist, the second story wouldn't be able to unfold." Christa went on to say, "I was lucky that there wouldn't be a real version of the second story, or it would be a long time later. It was. As a result, the second living example appeared in front of my eyes."

"It's normal. The person behind the scenes has made a very detailed and careful plan, so the cases will not be too long apart."

Christa sighed helplessly: "How long ago did the real murderer get Cecil's manuscript, or did he find such a series of suitable candidates in a short period of time...it's too unrealistic .but it wasn't long before Cecil started writing the novel..."

She still wanted to continue to say a few words, but a sharp cry suddenly erupted from the crowd not far away, piercing the silent dark night sky of Xingzi, and the boiling voice fell silent for a moment.

"My daughter!...My daughter has been abducted! I beg you, please help me find her! It was just... just now!"

Christa recognized the voice of the Chinese woman who set up the stall before.

……

After Christa and Sherlock looked at each other, they quickly suppressed the doubt in their eyes, and rushed over with Sherlock.