Hermione, let's start the revolution at Hogwarts

"It seems that Professor Flitwick's favorite student doesn't know either. I'll go back and check..."

"There are many spells that summon fire, such as the Fire Spell and the Lily of the Valley Fire Spell that can burn underwater. If the body is well preserved, then the Fiery Spell can be ruled out first... If you read a little in advance, you will know!"

Watson shook his head slightly. It seems that Little McGreg still couldn't keep his composure in the end.

But it's normal. After all, how old is she now... It's not that she can ignore it in the future, but that she will get used to the Holmes' roundabout provocation after a long time.

So Watson continued to say along with her words: "The internal organs are completely carbonized, but the preservation effect of the clothes on the body is better than the skin, so the fire point is inside the body of the deceased."

No one is willing to believe that a person's body will suddenly catch fire. They would rather believe that the clothes were put on after Ambassador Stan Diss was completely burned to death while the body surface was still hot.

But the problem is that this is completely unnecessary, and there is even a need to worry about clues left on the clothes.

"There is no crime in this world that is so perfect that it leaves no trace. Since it does not conform to the code of conduct of ordinary people, then I need you two... Do you want to go out and relax during the holidays?" Sherlock suddenly said to Hermione.

"I think she wants to accompany her parents. We are here." Watson parked the car at the edge of the community.

Hermione numbly dragged her luggage, crossed the wooden houses, and finally walked to the land belonging to the Granger family. When she saw her mother standing under the eaves, she immediately put the matter behind her.

When she saw her mother wearing gloves and standing at the door looking out, Hermione's heart almost melted.

Nietzsche quietly watched Hermione open the gate of the yard and rush into her mother's arms. Until the car stopped at Baker Street, he remained silent, and his index finger tapped the door handle rhythmically.

Everything outside the window appeared in his eyes and disappeared quickly.

And Holmes did not disturb his son's thinking, but just quietly waited for the arrival of Christmas gifts.

"Malfoy, Flint, Greengris and Parkinson... these are the ones for now. Ask Uncle Mycroft to check if the names of these families appear in historical documents. The more detailed the better."

"Are they from the magic world?"

"A family that believes in wizard supremacy and bloodline theory. If the relationship between the British government and the Ministry of Magic becomes hostile because of these cases, it will only help the interests of these big families. In addition..."

He rubbed his brows tiredly.

After Hermione left, all of Nietzsche's negative emotions came out.

"You can use your identity as a Cambridge University graduate to pay attention to some people at Oxford University. Some of them can communicate with wizards by letter."

The letters with the raw materials of the potion that Sherlock found at the beginning were sent by wizards to some of them, and the location and identity of the dead were told to the dark wizards by them.

Sherlock took a long breath, and his vision suddenly became clear. He finally took the Nietzsche fan to blow away the fog in front of him.

"By the way, Merry Christmas, I received your gift."

Nietzsche prepared this "gift" for three months, and just now, it was finally handed to him.

Volume 1: Chapter 53 Bustling Baker Street 221B

"Merry Christmas, Mrs. Hudson~"

"You too, little Nietzsche."

"Let's go up and have something to eat, I'm starving."

Baker Street is also a 400-meter-long road in London. It is very expensive to rent a house here. Except for Mrs. Hudson, she just wants to be lively and is the only landlord who can tolerate Sherlock.

The first floor is Hudson's own room, and the second floor is a retired captain... It is said that Watson introduced it.

"Mary and I are engaged." Watson announced this fact at the dining table.

The two of them held their hands tightly together and placed them on the table, as if they were deliberately showing it to Sherlock.

Nietzsche could more or less guess about the Watsons' engagement, which was expected, so he and Sherlock just nodded slightly, without any other expression, which led to a very subtle atmosphere for this lunch.

Mary looked at her fiancé awkwardly, and then at her adopted son.

"Don't you have anything to say?"

"If Sherlock doesn't want to die alone, I can consider staying here after Watson gets married." Nietzsche wiped his mouth and began to taste the cookies of the landlady, "Although I only come back once every four or five months."

The touch of the engagement ring was not as cold as imagined.

Mary covered Nietzsche's hand with her palm. He could feel the wounds and calluses on the other's hand, and there were some blue ink marks between the nails. This was an independent and gentle woman.

To be honest, Watson really needed a harbor to rest. His first half of his life was thrilling enough.

"You can live with us." Mary attached great importance to this.

But Nietzsche first glanced at Sherlock, who bowed his head and said nothing, and thought for a while before giving an answer: "Now he is investigating the case of wizards. I am worried that there will be black wizards... If something happens, I can at least see him off."

Mary's smile gradually solidified.

"Wait a minute, isn't the detective usually protected in this situation?" Sherlock complained expressionlessly.

"The other party is a dark wizard who comes and goes without a trace, and I am just a student." Nietzsche rolled his eyes and imitated Snape's face, "So in this matter, I can only keep your body intact."

The topic was naturally changed by the two.

There are some things that only Sherlock can understand... It's not that he can empathize, but only he knows Nietzsche's psychology.

Mary was a little disappointed. Nietzsche's answer was beyond her expectations. Logically, Nietzsche should be very excited, because for an adopted child, it is a happy thing to be able to live with his parents.

"Why..."

"Oh my God, what should I do after Watson leaves?" Mrs. Hudson happened to interrupt her.

The landlord was full of sorrow. When she thought that she would have to deal with Sherlock Holmes alone in the future, she felt that the future was dark. She sat opposite Mary and shook her head slightly, indicating that she should not continue to ask.

Well, in addition to Sherlock, there is another more unexpected person who can understand Nietzsche.

"Well..." Watson didn't know what to say, so he could only sneer, "I believe you can get used to it."

In fact, he was not worried at all, because if Mrs. Hudson didn't like the tenant, she could find a reason to drive Sherlock away, but she didn't, because Watson knew that Hudson also liked those detective stories.

Sherlock and Nietzsche in Holmes's house always broke the boring daily life of the landlord.

She couldn't stand the kind of life that was completely different from tomorrow and today, just like there was no difference from death, and Sherlock didn't treat the landlord as an outsider at all, and asked him to do everything.

In this room, except Mary, everyone is sick...

"It's getting late, Mrs. Hudson, please prepare the wine glasses in the kitchen... add two more glasses."

"I'm not your servant!" Although he said so, the landlord still got up and left, "Mary, please help me, I don't know where you hide the brandy."

Mary dragged her lost body and walked to the kitchen.

Who else will come today? The third Holmes?

She tried to guess these things and let herself forget Nietzsche's answer. Mary used the key to open the storage room in the kitchen, lifted the oil paper covering the dust, took out a bottle with "Formalin" written on it and smelled it.

The preservatives in it had long been replaced with wine, from Holmes's prank.

"You can't treat little Nietzsche as an ordinary child." Hudson leaned against the door of the storage room, blocking the way.

"That's my child, I watched him grow up," Mary said listlessly, as if she had been drained of strength, "and he is my first child... I... I don't think he was adopted."

Before she met Watson, she had another husband.

But it was not a divorce, but a widower.

"He has always been very sensible, Mary. You should know that he is far beyond his peers, but Nietzsche is too sensible... He doesn't have a grudge against you. Strictly speaking, he loves you more than you love him."

"What...what do you mean?"

"You and Watson will form a new family and have your own children."

Mrs. Hudson said so much, then stepped aside, took out seven cups from the cupboard, put them on a plate and walked to the dining table.

She is a landlord. As an old man who is about to die, Hudson has seen all kinds of tenants, including too many couples who remarried or remarried with children.

As Nietzsche said, nothing is constant.

Even if Mary can make repeated assurances, when the biological child comes out, the attention will definitely be diverted, which is very painful for Nietzsche.

"Why did it take so long?" Watson took the bottle impatiently after seeing his fiancée come out, "You didn't confuse the real preservative with the bottle... Sherlock! Didn't I tell you not to play this trick? It's childish!"

"You can only blame your way of storing wine for being too unconventional." Mary forced a smile.

Nietzsche was underage, so there was only juice in the glass.

Watson, who was limited in dosage, drank half a bottle with Holmes under the pretext of Christmas. Watson was talking most of the time, including about that woman.

That mysterious, charming and adaptable woman.

"I'm serious. Maybe Irene Adler doesn't like your type."

"None of my business!" Sherlock pretended to be calm and turned his head away. "John, you're drunk. Sober up."

"Come on, that woman who... fooled Holmes." Watson laughed, completely losing his gentlemanly demeanor outside. "If she was interested in you, why didn't she come to see you at Christmas?"

"First, I wasn't fooled. Second, this account should be put on Nietzsche."

At this time, footsteps were heard in the corridor. Inspector Lestrade, wearing a black windbreaker, walked in from the door that was not closed. He hung his hat on the hanger and greeted the people on the sofa one by one.

He had a brown mustache under his nose and was about the same height as Watson.

Suddenly, the inspector heard an incomprehensible murmur, and then a glass that had been filled with brandy floated in front of him, which scared the inspector.

"Thanks..thank you. Did you know I was coming?"

"I greeted the police at King's Cross Station in the morning. Don't be scared. I already know about the American ambassador."

"Afraid? I'm not afraid." Inspector Lestrade didn't even let go of the last drop of wine in the glass, and then immediately said, "What kind of trick are you doing again? Do you know something?"

He immediately put down the empty wine glass and didn't take his eyes off it until he sat down.

"That's not a trick, that's...magic." Nietzsche waved the magic wand in his hand. "This case cannot be blamed on Scotland Yard's incompetence. Fear is not shameful. In the face of danger, it is wisdom."

"Long time no see...thank you."

Inspector Lestrade rubbed his eyes. He saw the wine bottle come to life and started pouring wine for several people present. Mrs. Hudson's eyes widened and she quickly crossed herself on her chest.

Magic is almost a joke or magic to ordinary people, but this definitely happened in the eyes of the inspector.

"How's the situation now?"

"Panic, collective panic." The detective sighed again and said nervously, "Last time, the Chief Justice of the United Kingdom died in his bathtub, and this time it was the American Ambassador. The superiors have designated this matter as a 'Terrorist attacks'"

Terrorist attacks, which means counter-terrorism, are absolutely hostile in terms of stance.

Sherlock held his chin with his hand and immediately understood what Nietzsche said in the car - in the wizarding world, there are a group of people who do not want wizards and the British government to maintain a relatively peaceful balance without disturbing each other.

If you think about it carefully, if the British government knew that this incident was caused by wizards, their attitude towards the Ministry of Magic would be completely different.

"What do you know about the Four Orders?"

"What is that?" Lestrade was confused.

"Forget it, don't leak these things out later, not at all." Sherlock said, "Terrorist attacks are enough for the time being. If you hear someone talking about 'magic', remember to pretend that it means nothing." Know."

"What happens if someone overhears you?"

"You will have your memory erased." Nietzsche felt that it was not safe enough, and added, "If you are unlucky, you will even become an idiot who can't remember anything."

The detective suddenly wanted to leave. How could he be so stupid? He had a good day today, so why did he have to come to Holmes' house? Forget it, when he thought of the honor Sherlock had left to them, he endured it.

As expected of Lestrade! No ordinary person can get along with Sherlock Holmes, so this small danger is not a big deal!

Following closely behind Inspector Lestrade was Mycroft. It was only at five o'clock in the evening that he slowly climbed up the stairwell with his cane in hand.

He threw the documents under his arm on the table and licked his lips at the people as if he was the owner of the room. Then he looked at Mrs. Hudson and coughed hard from his dry throat.

"Do you need a glass of water?" Hudson just recovered from the 'trick' just now.

"Excuse me."

"The kettle is in front of you, pour it yourself."

"..." Mycroft sighed,

The landlord here is as mean as Sherlock Holmes. He is so busy that he even pours his own saliva.

Volume One: Chapter 54 The British Warehouse Manager

Why does Sherlock call his brother "the warehouse manager"?

That's right, but this warehouse is the United Kingdom. The houses, various organizations... everything that belongs to the United Kingdom belongs to the "warehouse's storage", and Mycroft is responsible for taking care of this.

By picking up a person's genealogy, as long as he is willing, he can trace back to the origin of the target ancestor in the UK.

"There is only so much information that MI6 can find, and only Malfoy's information is the most complete." Mycroft smiled politely at Mary, "Your son's sense of smell is much stronger than his father's."

No one dislikes having their son praised, especially Mary.