Sherlock Holmes

"Da da da" footsteps sounded behind him.

Sherlock felt that it was not good to stare directly at the thumbtack, so he shifted his gaze to Nightingale's portrait on the wall.

The next second, the doctor named John Watson came into view. He straightened the folds of his shirt cuffs, and then sat on the other side of the desk. But he did not speak immediately.

She probably didn't want to disturb the people in front of her from admiring the girl in the portrait.

Sherlock quickly realized this, smiled and said, "It seems that every doctor's office will have a portrait of [Nightingale] hanging in it."

"Of course, she is an angel and should be worshiped by all medical workers." Watson said, looking at the painting for about a second or two: "But you and I both know that people worship her , it must not only be due to her noble moral character and medical skills, but also part of the reason is that she is so beautiful."

There is no doubt about Nightingale's beauty. In fact, this girl should be regarded as the most beautiful woman in the entire empire. She is so beautiful that if one day, this girl and a man break out of love, then the second God, this man would die tragically carrying the jealousy and curse of all the men in the empire.

"I like beautiful things, and Lord Nightingale is really the most beautiful person I can imagine." Watson's tone contained the most sincere praise.

Sherlock also nodded. Although everyone has different definitions of beauty, perhaps everyone in the entire empire can reach a tacit understanding of the beauty of this girl.

But at the same time, he also noticed a small detail;

That is, although the doctor in front of him talks like the best gentleman, he seems to have a strange little habit. He always likes to put the index finger and thumb of his left hand together, as if he is gently kneading something.

"There are notices posted on the streets now. In more than a month, Her Excellency Nightingale will pass through London on her tour of the empire. I really don't know how excited the citizens of London will be by then."

"I guarantee the chapel will be empty that morning."

"Hahaha----"

Watson undoubtedly knew how to close the distance with other people. He said jokingly, and then took out a piece of paper full of writing from the drawer:

"Well Mr. Sherlock, how about we start the psychological evaluation?"

"certainly."

After getting permission, Watson took out a pen and prepared to take notes.

During this period, the index finger and thumb of his left hand never separated.

"First question, if you encounter an empire citizen who is being attacked by a demon, and there are no weapons around you, what would you do:

Option one: Escape.

Option two:

Next is the second question.”

His pronunciation was very clear and his attitude was very serious. The two of them went through the process of about three or four questions.

But at this moment.

Sherlock suddenly hesitated, and then whispered in a confused voice:

"You're boring, aren't you."

Watson was stunned and raised his beautiful eyes.

"Maybe it's presumptuous of me to ask directly, but do you really want to do such a useless test?"

The doctor in front of me is very handsome, very professional, and has a very serious work attitude. Even his sitting posture, dress, and conversation are so meticulous, so from any angle, he is that kind of person. You must take this psychological evaluation seriously. A person who is serious and truly accomplished.

But the detective in front of him suddenly asked such a question.

boring?

How can a person who works seriously be given the word "boring"? This is a bit disrespectful no matter how you think about it.

So Watson still didn't answer, which resulted in the two people staring at each other across a desk for more than ten seconds.

During this time, Watson's eyes first stared at the other person, and then slowly narrowed until they curved into a beautiful arc similar to a smile.

But almost no pupil leaked out.

After another half minute, he finally said slowly: "It's really a bit boring."

"That's right." Sherlock lazily leaned back in his chair: "Actually, with this kind of test, as long as you use your brain a little bit, you can know what kind of result each option represents. You should be able to tell, I He is the kind of person who can use his brain a little bit. So, why don’t we stop here, I’ll go home, and you can work on something more meaningful. When you’re done, just fill me in with a question you think you can get through. Just the score, how about it, brother?"

Watson's smiling expression became more and more beautiful. He tilted his head, showing his cuteness for a moment, but you could feel that his eyes were observing the Mr. Detective opposite through the narrowed gap:

"Although this is a bit inconsistent with the process, it is indeed a good idea;" he said, and then hesitated slightly.

But in the end he responded to Sherlock’s call:

"brother."

Actually speaking, the word "brother" is quite strange.

According to incomplete statistics, if two people do something very 'decent' together, such as planting trees together, worshiping the Holy Light together, catching a thief together, etc., the 'brotherhood' between them is actually not Not as solid.

On the contrary, if two people peeped at a nun taking a bath together, were chased by the police for setting up a stall in the Holy Light Square, and during the convent final exam, a small piece of paper with answers written on it was handed to them behind them;

The brotherly relationship between these two people will become very solid.

Humans are such despicable creatures. When they show each other their righteous or moral side, they will attribute it to a disguise for no reason. But once two people show each other their dirty side, even just a little, They will greatly gain each other's favor.

Therefore, morality is most likely a false product of wisdom. The human heart always yearns for the dirty, promiscuous, and selfish side.

As a result, Sherlock and Watson smiled at each other and shook hands like heroes who saw the same thing.

"goodbye."

"No need to send it."

"certainly."

In this way, Sherlock saved more than half an hour of boring time and left the White Thorn Security Company.

And the doctor named John Watson was still sitting in the chair after he left the office, with the smile still on his face, and the index finger and thumb of his left hand still pressed together, kneading gently.

"He seems to be a very interesting person." He murmured to himself, finally stopped what he was doing, and then separated his two fingers.

And on the tip of the index finger, there was actually a thumbtack inserted into it.

Watson pulled out the thumbtack as if nothing had happened, bringing out a lot of blood, then put the tip between his lips and licked the blood clean.

After doing this, he seemed a little disappointed, as if he was not enjoying himself, and inserted the thumbtack into his bloody finger again.

Thinking about the detective who just left, and the eyes that almost saw through him.

"Will life become more interesting?"

he muttered.