Sherlock Holmes

In London, horse-drawn carriages are the most common form of transportation.

Although the Mechanical Research Institute has developed steam cars a long time ago, due to the difficulty of repair and maintenance, they have never been able to become the mainstay of urban transportation. Some nobles even bought steam cars and could only use them as cars in their own yards. It’s just a decoration, but you still have to take a carriage when going out.

On the other hand, those rail cars that can only travel on fixed routes on the rails are more popular. Short distances cost 1 pence, medium distances 5 pence, and long distances or if you want to cross the Thames, it costs 15 pence.

It’s not expensive, but you just have to endure the crowding in the carriage, the smell of sweat, and some vomit that you didn’t have time to clean up overnight.

At this moment, Sherlock was riding a light rail from the suburbs into the city of London.

Since there were very few seats, and many of them were broken, most of the people in the carriage were standing around. A few drunkards were leaning against the door and cursing at each other; a girl holding a paper bag full of food was standing in the corner, and an elderly man An old man over 70 stared closely at the butt of the woman in front of him, but the woman didn't notice at all because she was quarreling with her husband;

The content of the quarrel was that their children called the handsome waiter in the next door pub "Dad".

This makes the woman's husband feel that his child is not his biological child.

The woman's explanation was that the child was only 8 months old and he could call a dog daddy!

Normally at times like this, Sherlock would curiously observe and reason, trying to figure out who the child was from. Maybe it was really a dog. Anything could happen these days.

Today, however, his interest was not that high.

Because he was still thinking about his contracted demon.

A bug?

Not the kind of insect with a hard armored shell and a mouthpart as sharp as a sickle, but a soft caterpillar that only knows how to writhe? !

No, that waste didn't even dare to squirm, it only dared to lie there and pretend to be dead.

Sherlock is indeed not a person who cares about the strength of contracted creatures, but this is too weak! People always have to have an anchor point for self-awareness. It cannot be said that just because you become a monk who never marries, you can accept that you are only half the size of your thumb.

Not using it and not being able to use it are two completely different concepts.

What's more, Sherlock is still a quite narcissistic person, letting the lowest caterpillar become his contracted creature; it is really difficult for him to be happy, plus he hasn't slept well since last night, The apartment has also been demolished and is about to become homeless.

All kinds of things piled up together, making him more and more depressed.

Then he turned to the drunkards who had been shouting and said softly: "Sorry, please be quiet."

I don’t know if his politeness made those people feel ashamed, or if there was something in his eyes. In short, the drunkards really became quiet.

After a few more stops like this, the train finally stopped at the Baker Street platform. It was already afternoon, and the city was rarely cleaner after the rain.

Sherlock got out of the car

The drunkards also got out of the car and followed him not far or near.

As I said before, the security in Xiacheng District has not been very good for a long time. There are demons, murders, revenge, debt problems, etc. The flames of the corpse incineration plant have almost never been extinguished.

Therefore, under the protection of huge evils, smaller evils become particularly rampant. It is very normal for a chance encounter on the way home to hold a grudge without any reason.

What's more, although Sherlock's clothes were a bit old, they were all decent ones. This caused several drunkards to keep staring at his coat, leather shoes, and top hat with their drunken eyes, thinking in their minds, maybe this guy could have a piece of it. Pocket watch or something like that.

In short, they make no secret of their desires and violence.

At this moment, they suddenly saw the target slowly walking into a small alley.

Several people immediately exchanged glances, smiled sinisterly, and followed.

He completely failed to notice the lazy disgust and helplessness reflected in the target's back.

They even failed to notice that not far behind them, the girl who had just been holding a bag of bread and vegetables in the corner of the train was watching this scene anxiously.

one minute later

There is little sunlight in the alley, and the trash cans that have not been taken care of for weeks exude the sour smell of fermented meat.

A man was lying on the ground, his eyes rolled white, foaming at the mouth.

There was another person who was paralyzed next to the garbage pile, completely unconscious, and allowed the stinky water from the decay of the garbage to flow into his mouth.

Only the last drunkard was left. His legs were weak and he was holding on the wall to prevent himself from falling. He seemed to be trying hard to understand what happened in that moment.

Of course, Sherlock was not prepared to give the other party time to think, because he was very annoyed. Now he just wanted to solve this bloody thing quickly, and then decide how he was going to spend tonight.

So he lit a cigarette and weakly walked towards the drunkard in front of him: "I know that people like you hold grudges and often use some vile methods to deal with weak and helpless citizens like me, so I will beat you to death. This also prevents you from always harassing me, so it’s reasonable.”

The drunk man's mind was buzzing. How could this be considered 'reasonable'?

He knew he had to run quickly.

But his legs were too weak and he couldn't stand up at all. He could only watch the scary guy getting closer to him.

"Help!!!!"

At this last moment, he finally pulled his neck and shouted.

However, these days, unless a police officer happens to be passing by the entrance of the alley, no one will pay attention to you even if you hear calls for help.

The next second.

"Du-du-du--"

A burst of rapid whistles came from the entrance of the alley, which sounded a bit like the whistles used by patrols after dark to send signals when encountering a situation;

Immediately afterwards, a woman's anxious voice sounded: "Your Excellency, Sheriff, here. There is someone robbing and committing murder in the street! That's right, right in the alley!"

When the drunk man heard this, he just grasped at straws and said, "Help."

But as soon as he opened his mouth, a hand suddenly pressed on his face.

Then bang! clang! clang! Use the back of your head to hit the wall hard.

While chiseling, he looked at the entrance of the alley with suspicious eyes.

It went like this for about ten seconds, until the man on his hand stopped even twitching. Sherlock finally let go of his hand. The man slid to the wall like a pile of rotten meat.

"That's right, come in quickly, Mr. Sheriff, the people inside are very dangerous!"

The woman at the entrance of the alley seemed to be still explaining something to the sheriff.

However, Sherlock slowly poked his head out and looked at the girl who was hiding at the edge of the alley talking hard to herself, with a question mark on her face:

"What are you doing?"

The girl was startled by the sound and quickly turned around to look over.

When she discovered it was Sherlock, a moment of joy and determination flashed in her eyes. The next second she jumped over, grabbed Sherlock's hand and started running:

"Run, run, I'm scaring them. There's no police officer."