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

Police cars and ambulances arrived almost simultaneously.

The sound of "woo woo woo" whistle spread throughout the street, and it rang for several minutes.

The doctor knelt down to observe Old Field for a while, then shook his head, and said to Aisha, "My condolences, Mr. Old Field has passed away. There is nothing we can do."

"I'm sorry to bother you." Aisha lowered her head, her deep green eyes reflected Old Field's ferocious face, and her eyes remained calm.

Here the ambulance came and went, without delay.On the other side, two people who have been temporarily forgotten by everyone

_____

"You go to Aisha Field's room, and I'll go to the guest room."

Christa did not object to Sherlock's division of labor, but only pretended to be surprised: "So you finally realized that entering and leaving an unmarried woman's room casually is very ungentlemanly behavior!"

"Why do you always struggle with these worthless questions?" Sherlock and her mind were completely out of the same space.

"You just said that you can find out the truth before the police come. What about the truth now? Mr. Detective?" She gritted her teeth and paused every word.

"The truth is obvious, isn't it? I just want to know what it was that frightened old Field."

"Then I wish you good luck." She walked up the winding stairs, not wanting to explore the truth in his mouth.

When you can't beat a person, try to prevent him from speaking as much as possible.

The little girl Christa, who realized the first principle of getting along with Sherlock, left Mr. Detective behind, avoided the maid who was wiping the vase, and happily went up to the second floor.

There are not many living rooms on the second floor, so Aisha Field's room is easy to find.

Christa opened the door and walked in. The room was spacious. Famous eighteenth-century paintings were hung on the wall facing the door, and a thick cashmere carpet was laid under her feet, with gorgeous patterns woven on it.

She closed the door gently, carefully paying attention to the layout of the room.

There is a hanging bookshelf on the side of the wall, on which all kinds of books are placed neatly and orderly, ranging from painting appreciation to literature and poetry.Another door opened next to the bookshelf, which should be Aisha's bedroom. She walked over and turned the handle, but it was locked and did not open.

The water-red curtain floats down from the window, isolating the sunlight, and the easel is placed in front of the window, and the wet paint indicates that the owner of the room may have just finished a painting.

Christa flipped through the pile of drawing papers, but didn't find the newly completed painting.

She was a little puzzled. The painting should have been drawn overnight by Aisha Field, and there was still half-dry paint on the remaining paper.But where can such a painting go in a short time?

"...he saw something that frightened him before he died..." Sherlock's words flashed in her mind.

……

All the clues were strung together in an instant, and Krista thought she probably knew what had frightened the old gentleman.

_____

A painting by Aisha Field.

But, what was painted on that painting?

Forget it, we'll find out when Sherlock finds the painting.she thought indifferently.

"click___"

The door of Aisha's bedroom was pushed open from the inside, and the moment she saw the person coming, her tense body relaxed, "Sherlock?"

Didn't he go to the guest room to find the painting?How did you get here?She bit her lower lip, a little tangled.

"It's all clear now!" he said in a particularly cheerful tone.Krista noticed that he was holding a large, rolled-up drawing paper in his hand.

That should be the clue she was looking for.But the painting... seems to be wet?

"Sherlock, what's on it?"

He raised his eyebrows and opened the drawing paper, "A portrait. The background on it is exactly the same as the layout of the guest room."

This is a full-length portrait of a person. The length of the drawing paper is about 2 meters. She visually estimates the height of the person in the painting to be about 150 centimeters.The facial features of the person in the painting are mixed with water stains, and only the outline of the torso remains.Layers of various colors of paint are layered and smeared, and the two colors of pink and blue on the clothes can barely be distinguished.The water looks like it was just splashed on it.She thought about it, it might be a portrait of a girl.

But why was Old Field frightened?

"By the way, how did you come up?" She moved her gaze from the painting to Sherlock's face.

"Stairs. There is a staircase in a guest room below that leads directly to Elsa Field's room."

Why is there such a secret passage in a serious manor! Did she take the wrong script! She should have taken the script from the escape room next door!

Sherlock rarely explained to her thoughtfully, "The guest room below has been renovated, and the decoration of Aisha Field's bedroom does not match her own. This is her mother's room, and the room below is where she lived in her childhood."

It is true that in many families with ancient and strict rules in Europe, the rooms of the hostess and hostess are separated.

In order to facilitate the care of the children, it is normal for the hostess to open up the room.

Krista was relieved.

"All right. Please explain the truth to the detectives and prove my innocence. The best detective in London."

It seems that the cause and effect of this murder have been clarified, but the reason why Aisha Field killed her father has never been clear.It may be more concise to ask the person involved than to make random guesses without clues.

Before Christa left the room, she glanced at the Scotland Yard agents who were collecting evidence next to the corpse and Aisha Field who was being questioned through the water-red curtain.

Miss Field, the beautiful goddess in the picture below, seemed to feel something, and smiled in this direction.

"...So, Old Field should have accidentally slipped down the steps and hit these stones because of the moss. This is completely an uncontrollable accident..."

"Did you hear that? I knew the goldfish at Scotland Yard would conclude that it was an accident." Sherlock said to Krista in a mocking tone.

It's still fun to hear Sherlock slap someone when he's not using his smack ability on her.Christa followed behind him, with an innocent face, thinking gloatingly.

...However, why do the agents of Scotland Yard have such strange faces?

"Sherlock!" One of the detectives was surprised and helpless when he saw him.It was the one who just did the analysis and reasoning.

However, Sherlock mercilessly opened his mouth to mock, "Gradestrade, your reasoning just now is really wonderful! It fully displays the infinite imagination of human beings."

...Suddenly found that the positioning of my neighbor seems to be a bit different from what I imagined, how can I break it?

She always thought that the neighbor was a vagrant, and suddenly found that he seemed to be recognized by an official organization.

"Sherlock, you called me by the wrong name again! It's not Greystrade, it's Lestrade. By the way, why are you here?" Lestrade complained and looked at Chris in surprise Tower, "A girl following you! She must be underage!"

Suddenly, he regretted agreeing to Sherlock's conditions so easily.

I feel like I'm at a loss...

Having said that, where did Sherlock, who can't even remember other people's names, get the courage to judge others as goldfish!

This is the benefit of being shameless!

Sensing probing or curious gazes around her, she resisted the urge to cover her face in public.

Christa poked her head out from behind Sherlock, smiling slightly awkwardly, "Hi...Mr. Detective, I'm Mr. Holmes' neighbor."

Before Lestrade's curiosity was dispelled, Sherlock cut off his words impatiently.

"Stop! We're talking about this murder now."

"Murder?" Lestrade looked back at Old Field's body, out of trust in Sherlock, he asked, "Sherlock, why do you say that? Is there any evidence to prove it?"

"I don't need any evidence to prove it." Aisha Field, who had been standing silently on one side, raised her head, took two steps forward, looked straight at Sherlock, her eyes were calm, "I killed him."

Her attitude was downplaying and nonchalant.It seemed to be talking about a trivial matter, not the horror of patricide.

Even the corners of her lips still had a faint smile that couldn't be melted away, against the illusory sunlight of October, like the first dawn after snow, the blue sky after rain.