Sherlock Holmes

Two days later, a patrolman knocked on the door of 221B Baker Street.

The patrolman's mentality was uneasy. In the past two months, Sherlock had not carried his suitcase into Scotland Yard, nor had he called the operator, nor had a criminal suddenly disappeared. The next day, Thames Half of the thigh was fished out of the river.

According to the Baker Street police report, the newspapers at the door of No. 221B have been piled high. It can be seen that Sherlock has not been home for a long time. He may have left London, or something happened, or even Simply dead.

No matter what, during this period of time, the entire Scotland Yard was bathed in a festive and peaceful atmosphere.

However, just this morning, Director Lestrade gave himself a task, which was to come over and deliver a letter to Sherlock. It must be delivered to the other party in person.

Delivered! other side! In hand!

What's the meaning? Is the detective named Sherlock back? Is he still alive? Wasn't he swallowed whole by some demon that suddenly appeared?

Well, it looks like he is really back, because according to the Baker Street police officer, all the newspapers at the door of No. 221B were taken into the house yesterday.

Then why not call? ? ? ?

Um. It seems that the call was shut down because the other party did not pay the phone bill for more than a month.

"Oh shit!!!"

The policeman licked his lips that were dry due to nervousness, and secretly cursed the director for why he sent him?

"Dong~dong~dong~"

He knocked a few more times, and the wooden door leaf made a dull sound, as if each knock was hitting his heart.

Then, there was a creak and the door was opened!

But the patrolman was suddenly startled, because it was not Sherlock who opened the door, but a very beautiful man.

The patrolman blinked and stared at the other person's face for a while:

"Ha ha----"

He smiled happily, and then exhaled a long breath of relief.

"Hello, what's the matter?" Watson asked politely.

"Haha, it's okay." The patrol officer was still happy, as if he had just escaped a disaster. It seemed that the information the director got was wrong. Sherlock did not come back. This room should have been rented to someone else.

"You seemed nervous just now."

"Yes." The patrolman nodded, as long as it wasn't Sherlock who opened the door. He looked up at the sky and felt that this should be some kind of gift given to him by the Holy Light, so he decided to do something good and joined in. He reached Watson's ear: "I'm telling you, the person who lived in this room before was very evil. If I were a fool, I would move out quickly and rent somewhere else."

"Oh?" Watson raised his eyebrows, seeming to be interested: "Evil nature?"

"Yes, the person who lived here before was a pervert. He used the identity of a detective to hide himself, but in fact he was a murderer. I heard from my colleagues that he would cut off people's heads, put them next to the pillow, and cuddle them every night. To sleep."

Like the gossipy old lady in the almshouse, he finally found a channel to talk, and began to complain with Watson happily. In his mind, this was undoubtedly helping the tenant in front of him. After all, this is the place where Sherlock once lived. Who knows if there will be a long row of dead bodies in the surrounding walls.

But at this moment

There was a "squeak" and the sound of the door being pushed open again, but it came from diagonally above the patrolman.

He stiffened, as if he suddenly remembered something.

The first and second floors of No. 221B are superimposed, so does the detective live on the first floor or the second floor?

He had no time to recall, because the next second, there were footsteps coming downstairs, and at the same time, he also heard a voice.

In fact, he had only heard this sound from a distance a few times, but unfortunately he remembered it very clearly.

"Um, who are you looking for?"

The patrolman only felt his calf muscles twitching slightly.

"Oh, this police officer said he was looking for you." Seeing that the other party didn't respond, Watson answered for him very thoughtfully.

"Looking for me?" Sherlock had already walked in front of the patrolman, and the somewhat sinister face appeared in the other's sight. It seemed that he had just experienced a hangover, so the dark circles under his eyes were heavy, and he frowned up and down. He looked at the other person: "Why are you looking for me?"

"Send. Send the letter." The patrolman swallowed.

Then he quickly took out a letter from his pocket and handed it to Sherlock in front of him.

He felt that he performed well because he controlled his slightly trembling hands

"I heard that you like to sleep with your head on someone's head at night?" Watson suddenly asked.

"Huh? Who said that?"

Watson didn't answer, but his eyes seemed to glance at the patrol officer in front of him with intention.

At this second, the patrolman brother in front of him suddenly made a U-turn, and then, regardless of traffic safety, swung directly across the road and plunged into the alley opposite at a sprint speed of 100 meters, disappearing without a trace. .

"." Sherlock looked at the alley and muttered: "What?"

Then he opened the letter in his hand.

As expected, it was written by Hopkins. Because he was very busy at the factory and couldn't get away, he could only convey it to the person who contacted the police as Sherlock had said before.

But for some reason, every time the name Sherlock was mentioned, the call would be disconnected inexplicably, and in the end he had to contact the director of Scotland Yard.

"Is it ready over there?" Watson asked.

"Well, the letter says that the personnel have arrived, and the required equipment has been arranged. A third-level demon has also been transported. It just arrived this morning. In other words, soul visualization can be started at any time now. Testing of the device.

However, the letter also mentioned some minor troubles. "

With that said, Sherlock handed the letter to Watson.

After taking the letter, Watson read it quickly and couldn't help but smile.

The trouble mentioned in the letter is not big, but it is not small either.

It was those people who were deployed who seemed a little resentful. Because according to the deployment requirements, they cannot leave the factory at will before the empire inheritance ceremony, and must devote themselves to this work.

This takes over two full months.

And almost everyone feels that this is something that is simply impossible to accomplish.

It's not that they don't believe in the authenticity of wild demon manipulation experiments. In fact, all the people who were deployed are loyal supporters of Professor Darwin!

Not because they complained about not being able to go home for two whole months.

But they felt that Professor Darwin himself took more than two years to complete the experimental results, and now they were asked to show them within two months.

Isn’t this nonsense?

The person who makes such a decision is most likely a fool.