I founded Tantric Buddhism in London

The deceased was a Caucasian, who looked to be in his thirties. He had no hair or beard on his face, fair skin, feminine features, and a greasy middle-parted hairstyle. He was wearing a meticulously ironed white shirt and black overalls. On the surface, he had no hair. Even with the slightest bit of dust on it, even the posture is quite natural, as if he just sat on the ground and dozed off, then naturally lay back and fell asleep.

But his face was particularly ferocious. His eyes were wide and bulging with an unblinking gaze. A wisp of solidified blood seeped from the corner of his mouth. There was twisted horror and surprise on his pale and stiff face, as if he had witnessed it at the last moment of his life. He saw something so terrifying that the fear before his death was deeply engraved on his body.

There was also a pool of dried radiating blood near the feet of the deceased, which seemed to have been spat out before he died.

This is not Watson's first close encounter with a corpse. He has seen a real mountain of corpses and sea of ​​blood on the battlefield in Furstein. The scene before me was nothing but child's play in comparison.

Looking at the slightly bent legs of the deceased, it seemed that he was originally sitting cross-legged.

A scene suddenly appeared in Watson's mind - the victim was sitting cross-legged in front of the fireplace in the dark night, perhaps meditating, perhaps reading, when suddenly some unspeakable injury or pain struck him. Come, he couldn't help spitting out a mouthful of blood, and he didn't even have time to struggle for help. In the end, he only left a desperate scream.

If that's the case... it feels a bit like a situation in martial arts novels where the deceased was living alone in a secret room practicing magic skills, but accidentally went wrong while practicing, and suffered internal injuries due to the boiling of blood and energy. With no one to save him, he could only wait silently for death.

Watson shook his head slightly to drive this incredible thought out of his mind. He looked at the deceased's death state. His clothes were neat and there were no signs of struggle, as if he had been poisoned and died.

Holmes knelt down next to the body. "Have you checked the body? Are you sure there are no external injuries?"

"Absolutely not!"

The two police elites shouted in unison.

Lestrade cautiously added: "At least to the naked eye, no obvious signs of blows were found. Although a little blood was found on the belly of the deceased's index finger, no last words were found."

Not to be outdone, Grace said: "The preliminary test results don't sound like poisoning, at least it's not a conventional toxin."

Holmes nodded slightly, but seemed not to trust these two elite detectives.

She put on white gloves and touched the body. She touched and pressed here and there with her slender fingers. She also unbuttoned the deceased's white shirt and checked, not missing any part.

Holmes moved skillfully and quickly, completing a series of detailed and rigorous inspections in a short period of time. She is more of a professional forensic scientist than a detective.

Finally, she leaned closer and smelled the lips of the deceased as if to confirm. She could not smell the bitter almond smell of cyanide poison commonly used in modern times, nor any other unusual smell. She could only smell the faint smell of blood.

In the end, a dazed and confused look appeared on her face, and she seemed to have gained nothing.

"Send it to forensics." Miss Charlotte stood up and said, "Remember to show me the detailed forensic report then."

A stretcher and stretcher-bearers were already prepared at the scene. Following Grayson's order, two police officers ran in from outside the house carrying a stretcher and moved the body onto the stretcher.

While they were talking, Watson stood silently in the corner, his movements concealed and always walking in the blind spot of everyone's sight, making people subconsciously ignore his existence, as if he was just a piece of furniture that was originally placed on the scene. .

This can also be regarded as the sequelae left by Watson on the battlefield - always pay attention to concealing his traces.

He silently compared the shapes of the six police officers at the scene, including the door guard. They all corresponded to the model of the footprints he had just speculated, except for the pair of footprints at the bottom that had not yet found the corresponding owner. ——This is most likely the trace of the murderer.

After seeing Holmes shake his head slightly and stand up, Watson was also a little surprised - he was really not poisoned? Or is it an unpopular toxin that even Holmes has never been exposed to?

Seeing that even Holmes' investigation was fruitless, he couldn't help but start to daydream - if he was the murderer of this case, how could he create such a scene?

The seemingly uninjured corpse - after eliminating the factor of poisoning, it seems that only the factor of sudden cardiac death caused by excessive shock is left... Unless the murderer also mastered the legendary dark power technique from the ancient East, with a single click Just pressing it can kill someone.

The scene is like a secret room - this is relatively easy, maybe there is a secret passage or secret door hidden in the house - the small window in the attic is very suitable, and petite people can just pass through; maybe it is set to delay closing The small mechanism of the door was not noticed when entering the door, so I will ignore it for now.

Watson even came up with a bold speculation. Perhaps the scream heard by the patrol last night... was not uttered by the deceased, but could also be a method used by the murderer to confuse his vision.

A scene emerged in his mind:

Last night, the deceased was sitting on the floor of the main hall, reading a book under the dim light. Suddenly, from the shadow where the light could not reach, a petite murderer suddenly jumped out. The murderer used some unknown method to directly frighten the victim. to death.

Then the murderer quickly cleaned up the traces of his appearance, quickly ran to the attic, and got out of the small window.

At this time, the murderer saw the patrolman holding a lantern not far away. For some kind of show-off, arrogance or distraction, he/she suddenly decided to hide behind the house and make a seemingly miserable cry after erasing the traces in the courtyard, attracting the patrolman to check.

When the patrolman broke into the house with great effort, he/she would only see the victim lying on the ground, and would mistakenly think that the victim had just died.

"However, there is still a doubt here..." Watson touched his chin and thought: "If the first patrolman who entered the crime scene... concealed the facts at the scene, or was simply an accomplice/principal offender... then my inference must be overturned."

At this time, the police officers had just lifted the dead, and Watson, who was squatting in the corner, keenly discovered that there seemed to be a faint dark red mark on the floor under the body.

He pointed to the suspected evidence and shouted, "Hey, come and take a look. There seems to be something written on the floor."

Lestred, who was carrying a pipe with him, immediately squatted down, struck a match on the sole of his boot, and moved closer to the floor.

On the rotten wooden floor, where the body had been covered, there were a few blood-red letters scribbled, as if the deceased had written with his fingers dipped in blood before dying:

Lantern

"Lantern?!"

Everyone's eyes were cast on the exquisite kerosene lamp in front of the deceased.

Lestred pondered, "Is this a clue left by the deceased, or a message from the murderer?"

Grayson exclaimed, "Lantern... This case looks more complicated."

Holmes had already picked up the kerosene lamp and observed it carefully. The kerosene lamp looked very clean and transparent, and there was still a lot of fuel left at the bottom.

But she looked left and right, but couldn't find any useful clues...

Why did the victim leave a 'lamp' before dying?

"Let's not talk about this for now. Please make way for me. I need to check this room carefully."

Miss Charlotte took out the tape measure and magnifying glass that were hidden somewhere, and began to walk slowly along the whole room, corners, windowsills, corridors, attics... She walked around, muttering to herself, sometimes stopping, sometimes squatting, sometimes lying down, completely ignoring the image of a lady, but like a crazy person who was obsessed.

But in Watson's eyes, the female detective felt more like a vigorous and agile fox hunting lightly in the forest. It seemed to be playful, but in fact it was patiently searching for the traces of prey.

This was the first time he followed the female detective to handle a case on the scene. The other party's appearance of being alone and immersed in the world of investigation amazed him. He thought that she was worthy of being a famous detective in the future. With such a fanatical work attitude, what could she not accomplish?

However, to Watson's surprise, the attic floor was covered with thick dust, and it didn't look like anyone had passed through it... Could there be another secret door?

He and Charlotte checked for half an hour, but found no useful clues at all. The solemn expressions on their faces became more and more serious.

The two official detectives asked anxiously: "Ms. Holmes, have you come up with any results?"

The female detective remained calm, "The case is indeed more complicated than I thought. If possible, I would like to meet the patrolman who found the body last night and talk to him."

Grayson and Lestrade looked at each other and smiled gloatingly. When they looked at each other, they could see the relief in each other's eyes.

Compared with Holmes finding useful clues at the scene, they hoped that she would find nothing, which would prove that the investigation of this case was in trouble, not because of their lack of ability.

Now it seems that this amateur colleague is not as good as the legend!

"Of course, no problem." Grayson replied happily, glancing at the notebook in his hand, "Patrolman John Lance who found the body is now off duty. His registered address is 3-406 Audley Apartments, Kennington Park Road."

"Remember to give me the forensic report."

After saying this, the female detective turned and left, and Watson followed closely behind, leaving the two elite detectives behind.

…………

After they left, Lestrade suddenly took the initiative to discuss with his nemesis: "Grayson, do you think... Will this case involve 'those things'?"

He stammered, "Why don't we..."

Grayson nodded heavily and agreed: "Even Sherlock Holmes couldn't find any useful clues... I think this case is most likely caused by 'those things'!"

"In my opinion, we don't need to wait for the forensic results anymore. It's better to kill the wrong person than to let him go! Report it directly to the Suppression Bureau!"