Sherlock Holmes

Chapter 121 Killing Intent! Comes from the sky!

The next day, Hanilton Street in London was packed with people!

Sherlock never thought that such words with obvious exaggeration would one day be truly revealed in front of his eyes. Miss Nightingale's influence naturally could not only include her heroic deeds. And its ability to cure diseases. It's quite embarrassing to say that, according to statistics, the number of healthy people who want to see her is more than the number of sick people.

This resulted in that every time she announced the city where she was, a large number of people went to that area, crowded together with countless patients, trying to muddle through, just to see the most beautiful person in the world.

Therefore, every time before she starts treatment, the local medical institution needs to send a large number of personnel to conduct screening. After all, Miss Nightingale is also a human being, and she will be tired, so she wants to use her energy as much as possible for those patients. on those who need treatment the most.

Of course, even so, it is absolutely impossible for her to eliminate all the patients in the entire city by herself, but this is the best she can do.

Hanilton Street is a full six blocks away from the London Medical Association, and the crowd has already lined up here. All vehicles have been detoured, and a large number of screening personnel have been set up at every adjacent interface. , those with mild symptoms, those who can persist, those whose families can afford the medical expenses, etc., will all be sent home.

If someone is found who dares to harm himself just to see Miss Nightingale, he should be dragged away immediately by a nearby nurse. While ensuring that he receives treatment, he will also be punished with imprisonment, fines, etc. If someone is found to have passed the screening and secretly sold The quota will also be directly sanctioned by the local police.

In short, it was very strict. When Sherlock arrived at the first screening gate, it was already more than an hour later, and the screening officer just glanced at him and put on a suspicious look.

"You are sick?"

"Yes, I'm very ill. I suspect I'm going to die." Sherlock responded seriously.

The man in the window was even more suspicious, and there was a hint of disdain in his expression: "Terminally ill? Or injured? Where is the injury?"

Sherlock took a deep breath: "I know I don't look sick, but I am really seriously injured. I may suddenly appear to be in a state of physical collapse at a certain moment, and I am very serious now." It's so painful that if it's an ordinary person, he probably wouldn't be able to stand up anymore. I waited in line for such a long time just by relying on my own willpower, so can you let me go?"

The person in the window slapped the table in great displeasure: "Today I met a total of 211 people who wanted to sneak in. You are the least careless one among them. At least you should get some bandages on your body and spread some blood." Go up."

"It's not that I haven't thought of the method you mentioned, but I was in a hurry and didn't prepare. And can I really get away with it like that?"

"Of course not!" the man said angrily, and then at the top of his voice, he called two caregivers and led Sherlock out of the crowd.

At the staircase in the corner of a block, Sherlock finally found a place to sit. Looking at the increasingly thin sunlight and the unabated crowd, he felt very depressed.

Of course he knows what he is telling the truth, but humans do not empathize with others, so whether it is the truth or not depends on others.

These days, he has been in the pain of physical collapse. In the meantime, he helped the Holy Son escape from marriage. All kinds of things made it almost difficult for his brain to enter a thinking state, so even Nightingale had arrived in London. Notice that there is no time to make a few cuts on the body and make the wounds old to get a chance to pass the inspection.

In fact, I can't say that I didn't expect that when he came just now, he was going to use the fire in the fireplace to lightly roast his arm. Such a large area of burn would most likely be cured by Miss Nightingale. Opportunities for treatment.

But Sherlock didn't dare. Because he didn't know what his current physical condition was like. If he got injured, a certain balance mechanism between 'health' and 'collapse' would be suddenly destroyed, leading to It would be too embarrassing for him to die instantly, just like the executive whose name he had long forgotten.

Just as he was thinking about it, Sherlock suddenly saw a phone booth on the other side of the crowd.

He seemed to have thought of something, got up and walked into the past.

After putting in a penny, he dialed a phone number.

"Hello, is this the Auckland Cathedral? I'm looking for His Royal Highness the Holy Son."

"That's not a personal name, it's His Royal Highness the Holy Son, His Royal Highness the Holy Son of the Holy See. If you insist on asking for a name, it's Moriarty."

"I'm not kidding, don't rush to scold me, I didn't disrespect the Holy Light!"

"Didn't you just hold the ceremony for the Day of Holy Love a few days ago? Why don't you know that His Highness the Holy Son lives in your backyard?"

"This is a damn secret. Go find him quickly. In the small villa in your backyard garden, just go and knock on the door. Just say that a man named Sherlock has something urgent to do with him."

"Okay, okay, no matter if it's a priest or someone else, if you want to ask for instructions, go and hurry up. Please hurry up."

Sherlock leaned against the phone feebly. After a long while, finally, a busy transfer tone sounded, and then Moran's voice came from the phone. When she heard it was Sherlock, she was a little surprised, but still She quickly went to call her master.

finally

"Hello." Moriarty's voice sounded. He had not seen her for a few days. His voice seemed very tired. It could be felt that he must be busy with some very important things these days.

"Hi, I just realized that I don't have your phone number, so I asked someone at the church to transfer it." Sherlock said angrily, "I'll just say it straight. I feel like I'm about to die."

"What?!" A confused voice sounded on the other end of the phone.

"It's very complicated to say. You are just a mortal, and you can't establish any connection with hell. You can't become a contractor no matter how hard you try, so even if I tell you, you won't understand."

"." There was a long silence on the other end of the phone, and then an increasingly cold voice sounded: "If you just want to anger me, you won't succeed!"

"I'm not irritating you, I'm just telling the truth. Anyway, my current physical condition is very poor, almost on the verge of death, but you should know that Miss Nightingale happened to come to London during this time So I thought."

"You want her to help you treat your so-called injuries?"

"Yeah, I don't want to really die." Sherlock said, "Aren't you the Holy Son of the Holy See? I think you might have some ideas, right?"

"Hmph!" Moriarty snorted coldly: "Who do you think Miss Nightingale is? She is one of the few who can ignore the majesty of the Holy See. Her personal influence is enough to make her independent of the Holy See and the government. Outside the system, no one in this world can ask her to do anything she doesn’t want to do.”

"including you?"

"Of course not including me!" Moriarty seemed to have finally regained a victory, and his voice naturally showed a certain kind of pride: "I have helped her with some help, so I think she should be able to Give me a face, of course, I have to come forward in person, otherwise it will appear disrespectful to her."

"Um, you mean, you want to come to me? And then take me to see Miss Nightingale personally?"

"Of course, if I don't go, you will think that you are a third-rate detective from the downtown area who rents a house; a guy who has a name in the most basic security management agency of the Holy See, an unknown person with no connections at all. Little citizen! Are you qualified to meet Miss Nightingale? Besides being a contractor, what other advantages do you have? Oh, you are still first-class."

"Why do I think you're still angry?!"

"I didn't!!" The other end of the phone said in a low voice: "Tell me your location and I will go find you!"

Just like that, after Sherlock named a location, the call was hung up.

Half an hour later.

Under a streetlight on the street.

Sherlock was smoking a cigarette when an inconspicuous carriage stopped quietly in front of him.

He got in the car and sat across from Moriarty. Moran had no choice but to sit next to Moriarty. Because she was taller than Moriarty, it seemed a bit strange to sit together, and this The girl servant seemed a little cautious, putting her hands between her knees and not daring to get close to His Highness the Holy Son.

Sherlock didn't know much about love, but he must have been aware of Moran's state these days. Now that he saw her coy look, he couldn't help but ask:

"you two?"

"Master-servant relationship!"

The two people said in unison.

"Okay." Sherlock nodded, indicating that he believed it.

The carriage began to move forward quickly. The modified axle and balance beam made it feel no bumps at all. The seat looked ordinary, but the comfort was excellent, and all the materials were of extremely expensive varieties. They must have been It took a lot of extra effort to make it look less expensive.

Sherlock could only lament that he really didn’t understand the world of rich people.

The carriage passed through the crowd and came to an exclusive passage where the flow of people was relatively small and only staff could enter and exit. The driver did not know how to operate it. In short, everyone who came forward to check immediately gave up their seats, and the road was smooth. Without any hindrance, Sherlock occasionally looked out the window and looked at a certain security officer, and he could see a moment of panic and extreme respect in the other person's eyes.

"I have to say that having a high enough status can bring great convenience to people."

"At the same time, you also have to bear great responsibility." Moriarty said lightly.

Soon, the carriage finally stopped at a side door next to the main building of the London Medical Association. An old man in his 60s with gray hair was already standing at the door. When he saw the carriage approaching, he immediately assumed the most humble posture and hunched over. waist, and trotted to the carriage.

Sherlock opened the car door and walked out.

"Welcome to His Royal Highness the Holy Son." The old man bent down a little more, with a trembling and panic in his voice that was difficult to conceal: "I am the president of the London Medical Association. I am waiting for you here."

"Ah, I am not the Holy Son. The guy you want to greet is behind."

"ah?!"

The president was startled, and before he could fully understand what the other party meant, Moriarty got out of the carriage. Compared to how he treated Sherlock, his expression did not have the aloof pride, but a look of aloofness. He smiled calmly and kindly: "Old man, you don't need to worry about too much etiquette. I'm just here to meet a friend."

"Of course, of course." The president recognized the wrong person and seemed even more panicked. However, he did not dare to disobey His Royal Highness the Holy Son and had to step aside: "Miss Nightingale is already waiting for you. Please Come with me."

Just like that, the three of them followed the president towards the building.

Maybe the old president himself has a tendency to shiver, or maybe he was a little excited or frightened after seeing His Highness the Holy Son. Anyway, his loose trousers couldn't even cover his legs during these few steps. He was shaking and there was a lot of sweat on his back.

Sherlock frowned slightly.

The president of an association at the level of a big city must have seen a lot of the world. Isn't this old man a little too nervous?

And the moment he stepped into the building, the old president suddenly raised his head and looked at the sky for some reason.

The wind at night was very cold, the noise in the distance continued, and there were no shooting stars in the sky, so Sherlock didn't know why he wanted to look above his head.

Anyway, several people followed him into the building, passed through several long and short corridors, and finally came to a single lounge.

"My lords, Miss Nightingale is inside." The president bowed slightly and said, "Then I won't disturb you."

"I'm really sorry to trouble you." His Royal Highness the Holy Son responded with a smile.

As if he finally breathed a sigh of relief, the president performed a final ritual of respect in the Holy See, and then left.

Moriarty walked to the door and knocked gently.

During this process, Sherlock subconsciously looked at the sky outside the window. His eyes fell through the window and through the dark night to the clouds several kilometers away.

In this foggy city where the moonlight is extremely thin, almost all the light at night comes from gas lamps, and the brightness of gas lamps naturally cannot reach the sky.

In other words, those dark and lightless clouds are like the most natural protective color, blocking everything above them.

"As the Holy Son, are there many people who want to kill you?" Suddenly, Sherlock asked.

Moriarty frowned: "Of course, but I'm still alive."

His words were filled with incomparable confidence. Subconsciously, he looked at Moran beside him. The girl servant also responded with an unadulterated smile. It seemed that being a maid could give her master such a sense of security and make her Her life has meaning.

"Why do you ask this suddenly?" Moriarty said,

It was at this time that two things happened.

One:

There was a pleasant voice coming from behind the door

"Coming."

Then the door handle slowly turned

Second:

Among the lightless black clouds, a Zeppelin painted black slowly emerged.

Then!

It's the second one! !

The third one! ! ! !

Until the fifth frame.