Sherlock Holmes

Sherlock found himself in a very strange room, small but very clean.

The overall area is about 5 square meters, with only one bed and a weird-looking toilet, and nothing else.

But even such a simple room still made Sherlock frown slightly, because he clearly felt that this room was different from any room he had ever stayed in, not in terms of structure, but in terms of atmosphere. '.

Take the toilet in the corner for example. It has a funnel-shaped white base and a water tank hanging on the back near the wall. It looks cleaner and more convenient than any toilet I have ever seen. .

Sherlock walked over, touched the surface of the toilet tank with his hand, and was surprised to find that this thing was actually made of ceramics.

ceramics? ? ?

If you want to make ceramics with such a color and smooth texture, you will undoubtedly need very high-end craftsmanship. It is difficult for Sherlock to imagine which factory has such technology.

What made him feel even more strange was that he had never seen a toilet like this before. In addition, this thing was always covered with a plastic-like cover, which looked like a large shell.

But the first time I saw it, I was pretty sure what it was.

This strange sense of déjà vu made Sherlock's brows frown even tighter. He turned back and looked at the bed where he had just woken up. The wooden bed had a wooden bed, and the corners were polished and smooth. The bedding is very soft and the surface texture feels like something between silk and cotton, very comfortable.

The walls are also all white. Under the illumination of the embedded light source above the head, it looks particularly bright. It can be seen that the walls should be painted with lime, but to the touch, they are very smooth and there is no graininess at all. .

At this point, Sherlock finally found out what that weird 'atmosphere' was.

That is, everything in this room is so high-end. Even the most luxurious hotel in London cannot have such facilities. However, this room is so cramped, and there is no separation between the toilet and the bed. , the bedding on the bed is obviously extremely comfortable, but it is just thrown to the foot of the bed casually. The plaster on the wall is extremely meticulous. Even the church in Jerusalem has not been painted with such high-end products, but in the corner, you can see some long-term Dust accumulation is caused by not cleaning.

Well, Sherlock put away his previous comments about this place. This room was not clean at all, and it even looked a bit like a prison cell. And the 'luxury' facilities that he thought seemed to be just that in the eyes of some people. Some of the most unusual products.

With his thoughts at this point, he finally walked towards the door of the room.

The texture of this door feels like steel, but it is more resilient than normal steel. Under the door, there is a small hinged door about 20 centimeters long and wide. It looks like it is used to deliver meals to prisoners in the cell. The kind of small window that was used, and at this moment, a lunch box was lying quietly on the ground.

Sherlock picked up the lunch box and was slightly surprised again by the touch of his fingertips.

He had never seen this kind of soft material that was similar to foam, but also a bit like plastic.

In this way, he sat back on the bed with all kinds of questions. After opening the lunch box, he found that the food inside tasted very ordinary, the rice grains were not fully cooked, and some vegetable leaves exuded a pungent aroma, but it didn't matter. , Sherlock just ate like this, thinking about where he was now and what happened during the time he was unconscious.

Thoughts flowed back into his mind bit by bit. In the last memory, he used his last bit of strength to break out of the demon group and entered the gate of hell.

Although the process was extremely difficult and dangerous, it seemed that he had succeeded. After all, he was still alive.

But thinking about it this way, is he in hell at this moment?

Look around again

Even if you don't have any reasoning ability, you can actually see that this place is nothing like hell. He lowered his head and looked at his body again, identifying the broken arm, the fangs that penetrated the body, and the claws that The flesh and blood that had scratched and rolled had all healed, and there wasn't even a single scar.

According to the usual thinking logic, this should be the self-healing ability brought by the demons he controlled through his tentacles, which repaired the body's injuries.

But what's the matter with this overly pale skin texture? It looks like it hasn't seen the sun for many years. Also, there seems to be a bruise on the side of my ribs. When I touch it, it's... There is some dull pain.

So how long have you been unconscious?

If I have been unconscious for a long time, how can I explain the not serious hunger in my belly, as if I had just eaten food not long ago, and from the context of the person who delivered the food to me just now, I can feel that I am not a person in a long-term coma.

What's up with this bruise? It feels like it was caused recently.

More doubts began to flood Sherlock, but he still chewed the unpalatable food in his mouth very seriously. He did not panic because of his strange situation, nor did he kick open the steel door in front of him and rush out. He grabbed the first person he met and yelled, "Where is this place?"

Anyway, staying calm should be more suitable for your situation at this moment than going crazy and irritable.

As he was eating, Sherlock suddenly noticed from the corner of his eye that the pillow on the bed had some slight protrusions where it should have been sunken.

There's something under the pillow.

He put his hand under the pillow and touched a book, so he took it out.

But when my eyes fell on the surface of the book! ! !

He suddenly froze, looking at the cover of the book with a very rare expression of confusion.

Because on that book, there are the words "Sherlock Holmes" written on it.

"???"

Something is wrong.

This is not a simple logical error, nor is it a case or mystery where the whole story can be found out through some kind of reasoning or investigation of clues.

Sherlock seemed to find himself in some kind of cognitive confusion.

"The Sherlock Holmes"? ? ?

For a moment, Shylock thought that he died gloriously at the gate of hell because of saving Nightingale, so his behavior was regarded as some kind of glorious deeds and was published as a biography.

Without thinking, he immediately opened the book.

Judging from the feel between the pages and the degree of yellowing on the cover and sides of the book, it was obvious that this book had been read many, many times.

Did you translate it yourself?

But why do I have no memory at all?

Focus on the content of the book

Chapter One;

First page.

"Mr. Sherlock Holmes"

[After I received my doctorate in medicine from the University of London in 1878, I went to Netley to study the required courses for military medicine. When the second war in Afghanistan broke out, I was hit by a Jessler bullet in the shoulder and shattered it. Broken the shoulder bone and bruised the artery below the clavicle.]

Sherlock found that his reading speed was not as fast as before. Originally, it only took him a second or two to read through a page like this without missing a single punctuation mark. But now, it seems that he can only read it. Read it word for word.

what happened?

The content of this book is also very weird.

‘1878? ’

Isn’t this the way the years were recorded before the sacred calendar?

Moreover, this book is written in the first person, but the "I" in the book seems to be that guy John Watson.

Where is Afghanistan?

Shouldn't the war front be in Redeker Strait? Why did it appear in an area that I have never heard of? The enemy doesn't seem to be demons, but humans from other 'realms'.

Just as more and more question marks kept sprouting in his mind.

A burst of footsteps outside the door gradually approached, and soon, click, click.

There was a sound of keys, and then the door was opened.

A dark man who was half a head taller than Sherlock and wider than one shoulder walked in. It could be seen from his eyebrows that this guy had a very irritable temper. He was wearing a white suit. He was wearing a nursing uniform, and on the left chest, there were the words [London Municipal Institute of Psychiatry] written on it.

"This is a mental hospital?" Sherlock muttered in his mind.

At the same time, the sturdy nurse in front of him also spoke:

"Looks like our great detective has finished his lunch, so hurry up."

As he said that, he spread out a set of straitjackets in his hands, walked towards Sherlock, and then patted a baton on his waist in an unfriendly manner, signaling Sherlock to be more honest.

Sherlock hesitated for a second:

"You mean, let me put on this straitjacket obediently, or you will beat me up with that baton, right?"

"if not."

The nurse seemed to feel a lot better when she saw Sherlock being so understanding. From this change, it was not difficult for Sherlock to notice that this scene of "wearing a straightjacket" had happened not only once, but also several times before. , didn't go very well, so much so that the man in front of him had to resort to some violent means.

But the question is, what use does this kind of straitjacket and the baton that is no thicker than your wrist have in front of you? Even if a war car comes over, it won't pose any threat to him.

However, after thinking about the bruise on the side of his ribs, Sherlock had an idea in his heart that was difficult to accept, but he had to accept it. He clenched his fists hard and felt the sound coming from between his muscles. After some thought, he decided to quietly obey the other party's arrangements.

So after about 5 minutes, he was tightly tied into the special clothes, with his hands folded around his chest, and was tied back and forth three times by the restraint belt connected to it.

After doing this, the nurse was obviously relieved and said with satisfaction:

"Look, don't we cooperate very well? If you are so honest every time, you don't need to get hurt every time."

Now, Sherlock was very sure where the bruise on his body came from. At the same time, after trying hard to break free of the restraints and finding that it had no effect, he was finally sure that his ability was complete. Disappeared.

No, it shouldn't be said that he disappeared, because no matter from the look of his thin body or the state of his muscles, it seemed that he had never possessed the kind of power that surpassed ordinary people.

Moreover, just now he also tried to tear open a crack in the void and summon a small demon or a tentacle, but of course he failed.

"How long have I been locked up here?" Sherlock asked.

"How would I know?" The nurse in front of him seemed too lazy to answer.

"Actually, you just need to chat with me and answer a few simple questions, and then I can keep quiet. This should be a good suggestion for you. After all, you don't want me to scream from now on. Rolling all over the floor, right?”

The nurse in front of him frowned. He tasted a hint of threat in the other person's words, but he certainly wouldn't be the same person as a mentally ill person. Moreover, the other person spoke in a very organized manner today. If he really just answered a few questions, he would be able to If you can make the other person calm down, that's really good.

Therefore, the nurse was convinced simply and directly.

"I've been working here for two and a half years, and you've been living here a long time before I came here."

"Did you just call me Detective?"

"Yeah, haven't you always thought of yourself as that Sherlock Holmes?" As he said that, he pointed to the book on the bed: "I don't know exactly what happened. In short, you seem to It’s because I was so confused while reading that I thought I was a character in that novel and couldn’t extricate myself, so I was imprisoned here.”

In fact, the nurse felt that this conversation was very strange. She was actually discussing the other's illness with a mental patient.

It doesn't matter, as long as the other party is honest.

"Are you trying to say that the name [Sherlock Holmes] is not my real name, but my imagination?"

"That's right. Not only do you fantasize about being a detective, but you also always yell about demons and the gates of hell. Sometimes you even scream in an attempt to summon some contract creature or something like that."

As the caregiver spoke, he placed Sherlock on an upright cart, and then tied his arms and legs to prevent him from falling.

Sherlock didn't offer any resistance, but thought silently for a while: "Then do you know what my real name is?"

"I don't know. You seem to be more senior than the doctors in this hospital. The original medical records have long since been lost. We will just call you Sherlock. Although the doctor said that calling you this is not good for your condition, but you I only react to this name, and it’s like you can’t hear anything else.”

"Then what are we going to do now?"

"Oh, go to the doctor's office, today is your routine checkup day"

When he said this, Sherlock saw the nurse in front of him subconsciously wiping his hair, as if to make himself look neater.