Sherlock Holmes

But it doesn’t seem like Nightingale, because the other person is wearing exquisite makeup.

It's not like spending a long time carefully outlining the delicate lines of the face, but because this face is so beautiful, so just a very light makeup will make it look extremely delicate.

but.

Nightingale never wore makeup.

Also, the Nightingale in front of me seems to be a little older. From the invisible wrinkles at the corners of her eyes and some subtle changes between her eyebrows, she can feel that she is older than Sherlock remembers. About three years old.

At this moment, Nightingale was wearing a white medical worker's lab coat, but the style was very new, with a flat collar and a small waist-shaping arc. In short, it was better than any white coat Sherlock had ever seen. It looks better, and the material is also very good. At the same time, because the girl in front of her is wearing high heels, her figure is more distinct than usual.

It is also puzzling that Nightingale probably never wore high heels.

Sherlock didn't know why the familiar girl looked like this. In short, she looked at him, and through the light green liquid, he always felt that the other person was not looking at a person, but at someone. About two minutes later, Nightingale took out a notebook from her coat pocket, wrote something in it, and then took out a cigarette.

With a bang, she lit the cigarette.

Nightingale smoking?

Sherlock should be frowning now, but he couldn't move, and he didn't even know if he had eyebrows; Nightingale certainly didn't smoke.

So who is the woman in front of me?

He wanted to take a look at the other person's shirt under her white coat, her shoes, and whether the fabric on the inside of her elbows had any signs of wear. He wanted to make some inferences about the woman in front of him, but at this time Xia Locke was unable to move, as if time had stood still [motionless], and he could not even move the iris sphincter inside the eyeball. This also resulted in him being unable to look at a certain place, and could only cast an unchanging line of sight forward.

And because of the liquid in front of my eyes, my vision was extremely blurry.

In short, the observation failed, and it can even be said that observation was impossible.

At this moment, Nightingale in front of her seemed to remember something. She put her hand into the pocket of her white coat, and then took out a piece of holy light!

Yes, it’s the Holy Light!

In fact, Sherlock didn't know what to call that kind of thing. Anyway, it was the kind of brick-like thing contained in the black box brought by the servants of God. Nightingale saw that the Holy Light was placed in In his ear, he started talking.

What is she doing?

Is she communicating with the Holy Light?

At this moment, Sherlock realized that he seemed to have suddenly come into contact with something beyond cognition and logic.

He couldn't hear what the other person was saying. Fortunately, from this angle, he could barely see the other person's mouth. Following the rhythm of the lips, he could decipher some words:

[Disease] [Awakening] [Experiment] and so on.

Bits and pieces cannot form a complete sentence at all.

However, Sherlock does not need to see all the lip readings. In fact, he only needs some words. He can try to construct several contexts and contents, and perform some logical screening from them, and he will eventually get some clues.

Gradually, he learned that the woman in front of him seemed to have mentioned a certain facility.

And then there are the many, many experimenters who have failed, and only a few who seemed to have succeeded many years ago.

There is another word that is worth paying attention to

【there】.

Sherlock always felt like he had heard such a common word but with an extremely strange context somewhere, but he couldn't remember it.

This is very wrong, because according to my own wisdom, I can easily recall everything in the past 20 years, even the first time I stabbed a robber to death in an alley in London and then dismembered the body and threw it into the sewer. I can recall the feel of it.

I was only 14 years old at the time.

However, now I have forgotten when I heard this word. It feels like my brain has not been used for many, many years, and it has a strange rusty feeling.

Well, now is not the time to think about this. Sherlock just read the fragments of Nightingale's lips without moving, hoping that she would not move, and at the same time, he kept putting the fragmented words together in his mind.

Gradually, he seemed to interpret from the lip reading that the other party mentioned that a sleeping person was about to wake up.

"He's coming back from the other side, in half a month at most."

Still a strange context

who's that person?

At this time, Nightingale in front of him turned slightly, which made her face Sherlock's line of sight, allowing him to see her face clearly.

As long as the other party says that person's name, they can probably deduce something.

Sherlock watched the other person's beautiful lips open slightly.

However, at this moment

Plop!

A huge heartbeat pounded in Sherlock's head.

Plop! Plop! ! Plop! ! ! !

The heartbeat is getting louder and louder, accompanied by severe pain and spasms all over the body. But Sherlock has no body now. This feeling is very strange. In short, there are some fierce impulses coming from the depths of the muscles and spirit. Rampant in the body of existence.

He wanted to yell, but he had no mouth.

He wanted to dance his limbs wildly, but there were no limbs at all.

In this weird state, he could hardly think. He only thought about whether he could move, so that the rush could be relieved slightly, even with a finger.

On the Antarctic continent, it’s minus 45 degrees and the wind is blowing.

Surrounded by a circle of chariots, a group of soldiers gathered around a bonfire, and beside the bonfire lay Sherlock's cold body.

In fact, some people think that this should be called a corpse.

At this temperature, the cold can quickly take away the moisture from the human body, especially those who are inactive. Sherlock has been in a coma for a long time.

This is not the main thing. The most important thing is that a few hours ago, the military doctor named Watson had someone boil a pot of tobacco, then pumped the yellow-brown tobacco liquid into a needle tube and injected it directly into the opponent's heart.

This kind of operation is really more like killing than curing a disease.

Even people without medical knowledge know that cigarettes are inherently toxic, and pouring tobacco juice directly into a human heart should lead to death no matter how you think about it.

Not even mentioning that it was water boiled from cigarette smoke, just putting a pipe of tap water into the heart would be enough to kill anyone.

Not to mention that before that, the military doctor had cut open Sherlock's chest, held his heart with his bare hands, and squeezed it hard.

So, Sherlock should be considered dead.

"There is still breath, or there may be no more." A soldier sat closest to Sherlock. He tested the breath of the dying man in front of him with his hand and said softly.

After the military doctor named John Peanut performed a series of frenzied 'treatments', it seemed that he could only leave the possibility of life and death to the wounded himself. At this time, he huddled aside again, paying no attention to anyone, and stood in the cold wind. There seems to be some pity in it.

"When he is completely dead later, let's just bury the body in the snow. Under this temperature, we don't have to worry about it rotting. It's much better than transporting it back and burying it in the soil. At least it's a complete body."

Another soldier muttered in a low voice. He actually didn't know much about the relationship between Sherlock and the military doctor, so he lowered his voice deliberately so that Watson wouldn't hear it.

It's nice to have a whole corpse, much better than those soldiers on the front lines whose intestines and stomachs are being tossed around by demon bites.

In fact, if you think about it, a powerful man like Sherlock eventually died on the battlefield. The soldier couldn't help but feel a sense of sadness and regret. In fact, if it hadn't been for this unexpected natural disaster, maybe this man would still be alive. Create more amazing miracles.

He came close to Sherlock and looked at his face that was frozen with frost:

"Speaking of which, I'm still confused. Does Miss Nightingale really like him?"

"I think it's a good match."

"Is he dead?"

As he spoke, the soldier once again extended his hand to the opponent's nose:

"He didn't breathe at all. In fact, he probably died just now. He is not Lord Dante."

The words have not yet fallen

Suddenly, the face in front of him that had been frozen like an ice sculpture suddenly opened his eyes!

“Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh”

The soldier closest to him screamed in fear and collapsed on the ground!

This scream attracted everyone's attention, and they all looked over. Then, they saw Sherlock "whoosh" and sat up suddenly, his eyes widened, and his face was pale and even blue. There was a flash of unhealthy flushing.

Further away, Watson raised his head, and a dim look finally flashed through his dull eyes.

It seemed that he had saved one after all.

Fill the helmet with snow, put it on the fire to boil, wait for it to boil, and then drink the bubbling water into your stomach.

Everyone around looked at this scene and frowned.

Even if the other party is a contractor, how can he treat his body like this? Could this guy want to use this method to replenish water and quickly restore his body temperature at the same time?

But when they thought about how the military doctor named Watson treated him just now, everyone couldn't help but feel that no wonder these two people got along well. If it were another person, he would definitely not be able to stand the way these two people deal with things.

The huge wound under Sherlock's sternum had been stitched up. He had stitched it up himself, using twine removed from his military uniform and a probe that had been protruded from the body of an unknown car.

Without anesthesia, he was so rough that he shuttled through the flesh and blood, and the wounds were rolled up by the stitches. But Sherlock didn't care at all. He was still concentrating on pouring water into his body and grabbing some transport from time to time. There were no cans scattered in the car, and none of them had been defrosted. They were just crammed into their mouths.

No one came to stop his overly rough way of eating, and no one even dared to disturb the man who had just woken up. People surrounded him and looked at him, and the atmosphere was even more depressing than before he woke up.

Major General Ulysses glanced at the cans scattered on the ground, and then looked at Sherlock pouring a mouthful of boiling hot water into his mouth with great concentration. He did not show any expression of loss or sadness, but used a soldier's unique tenacious tone. whispered:

"You should know that I don't like you as a person, but I still have to remind you.

Hope you are awake now.

You need to know what you are doing. "

Sherlock's face looked very bad. There was a hint of dark red among the pale skin. It was not the normal color brought about by the blood flowing through the skin, but more like a reflection of the high temperature caused by the charcoal fire in a boiler.

Just now, people told Sherlock all the experiences during this period, from avalanches to earthquakes, a sudden demonic tide came, and finally, the disappearance of Miss Nightingale.

After listening to this, Sherlock was silent for a moment, and then began to eat crazily.

At first, people thought that this was a way for him to relieve various negative states caused by coma, lack of water, hypothermia or hunger.

But gradually, everyone realized that this did not seem to be the case.

"Nightingale is most likely dead now. Your idea is unrealistic." Ulysses said again: "No one can survive the passage of the demonic tide."

"She's still alive." Sherlock responded calmly.

"Why do you have this idea, just because the military doctor said that the devil kidnapped the girl? You must not be a fool. The devil cannot have such behavior as "capturing people". This is just a coincidence!" Ulysses said, in fact, all the surviving soldiers present thought so.

it's common sense

However!

"I don't want to explain too much to you, but I know that Miss Nightingale was kidnapped by that demonic tide. She hired me to ensure her safety on the front line. If I accept this commission, then I will Go rescue her, that’s what I do in my profession.”

Ulysses looked at the man in front of him like a madman. He seemed to be unable to understand what professional ethics the other party would tell him about in this situation.

"You think I want to argue with you? I just think you have some abilities. If the battle between humans and demons is destined to begin, then there will always be some use for you while you are alive." The veteran said coldly, but There was already some anger in his tone:

"Even if you are right and those demons really kidnapped your client, how are you going to save him?

Do you know where those demons went?

This is Antarctica, where do you want to find it?

Even if you know where they are, can you still follow them?

Even if you really chase him, can you really rescue him? "