Sherlock Holmes

"Don't move the wounded." One of the medics stopped the soldiers from moving, came to the wounded, and began emergency treatment. Not far away, several lightly injured soldiers had just been injected with painkillers. The pain and tormented spirit finally calmed down a little.

Listening to the frontline soldiers around him who were still holding on or wailing in pain, a soldier took a drag on his cigarette in a depressed manner:

"It has been almost six years since I joined the army, and I am still a big soldier carrying a gun and running errands. I don't know how much longer this war can last. If the door to hell is really closed in a few years, then when I retire, won't I be the same person? Master Chief can’t even make it.”

The man muttered, his tone full of unwillingness.

"Yes." The comrades on the side seemed to have the same distress, and echoed, but suddenly thought of something: "Hey, before you said it, our regiment leader got along well with that guy named Sherlock. If that guy Not dead, how much more military glory will we earn in this year?"

The leader of the two men is the former Commander Millsap. Shylock does not belong to the combat troops on the frontline battlefield, and rarely has contact with military figures. However, if you must find someone with whom you have some connections, then Millsap Pu was the one he knew first and had the most contact with. He had been involved in training with the veteran regiment, or in previous battlefield rescue missions.

"No, but there was something wrong with that guy's brain. He went to rush into the demonic tide alone. I heard that I think he chased him for more than three months and chased him to the gate of hell." He took a bite. Morphine leaves, the warm breath circulated in the chest and abdomen, and the soldier's voice became louder: "Don't you think this is asking for death? Everyone knows that Lord Nightingale must be saved, but can't wait any longer? More If some rescuers are airdropped over, wouldn't the chance of success be greater, and the guy probably won't die."

"In the final analysis, he is too conceited. It is true that he has strength, but after all, he is a person who has not been tempered on the battlefield, and he has made himself stupid to death.

Nowadays, everyone is promoting him as a hero, but everyone is dead, so it’s no use being heroic. "

"."

The two of them were chatting and complaining like this. The achievements that could have been easily obtained were lost. Everyone felt a little depressed. However, as they were talking, the other person suddenly did not answer.

The wounded soldier turned his head and looked at his companion, and found that his eyes seemed to be looking in a certain direction with some anxiety, so he also followed the other person's line of sight.

Then, he saw a somewhat strange person.

That man seemed to be following the accompanying medical team, because behind him was a medical tank loaded with various medicines. Some doctors in hawk-beak suits were busy carrying bandages or medicines, but that man was wearing a white suit. Wearing a suit, he stood upright in the snow. His blond hair was very long and tied back. He looked extremely clean and out of tune with his surroundings.

At this time, the man was smoking a cigarette. There was not much emotion flowing in his beautiful eyes, only silence and coldness. The eyes of several people intersected, and the man actually walked over step by step.

Such a simple process made the two injured people feel pressure coming towards their faces.

"Hello, I would like to ask, were you talking about Mr. Sherlock Holmes just now?"

Although the aura of the man approaching was a bit scary, when he got closer, his tone was quite polite.

"Yes." It may be that the other person has a good attitude and is smiling. This attitude gives people a subconscious illusion that the person in front of them is quite friendly, so one of them responded.

"I see, oh, my name is John Watson, and I am one of the leaders of the frontline medical team." Watson introduced himself politely.

The two soldiers in front of them nodded, feeling that they were lucky enough to meet a person in charge of the medical team. They even thought that there might even be Lord Nightingale sitting in that car. In the entire camp, there is something worth bragging about.

But it seems that the name Watson has been heard somewhere.

The man in front of him was undoubtedly very handsome, but he looked like a ruffian when he smoked. He didn't know who he learned it from. The smoke drifted over and made the two of them cough.

"I admit that that guy was really stupid. He went to save Lord Nightingale alone, and as a result, he died because of it." Watson smiled bitterly and shrugged: "But I am not very reasonable. , I think he is stupid, but when I hear others say he is stupid, I feel a little unhappy."

The two soldiers frowned, and then realized that the other person was talking about Sherlock.

One person opened his mouth slightly, maybe because he wanted to apologize, or because he felt that the other person's temper was indeed a bit unreasonable.

However, the man did not speak at all.

Because at the moment when his mouth just opened, a white light flashed before his eyes, and a scalpel was inserted directly into the man's mouth, and then he turned it around lightly but cruelly, and the sharp blade directly stirred the man's mouth. A large amount of blood and a few strands of minced meat came out, as well as a broken tooth that was broken out by the blade.

Everything happened too fast. Only after Watson's knife had been pulled out from the opponent's mouth did the man realize what had happened. A scream suddenly sounded over the battlefield, attracting countless people to look at him. When a man came and rolled on the ground with his mouth covered, the soldier next to him quickly went over to help him, and at the same time looked at the handsome man in front of him with extremely resentful and frightened eyes.

"Are you fucking crazy, attacking soldiers?!"

No matter in any army, it is strictly forbidden to be cruel to your companions, and Watson's behavior undoubtedly violated military discipline.

But he looked at the wailing soldiers at his feet with a calm expression, as if nothing had happened.

At this moment, the door of the field ambulance at the rear was opened, and a doctor also wearing a beak mask came out.

"What happened?" the person asked. She was a woman with a nice voice.

Watson bowed slightly to the man and said: "Nothing, Miss Nightingale, it's just that this guy said Sherlock was a fool. I didn't feel happy to hear it, so I silenced him."

The two soldiers on the side were stunned for a moment. They were a little surprised that the other party could talk about hurting his companions so lightly. They also looked at the man with the beak mask in shock. They couldn't believe that the person in front of them It turned out to be Miss Nightingale!

I saw the man taking off his mask, and then slowly looking at the two soldiers. His too beautiful face in the wind and snow made people unable to take their eyes away.

Those eyes that once revealed innocence and kindness are now full of fatigue and perseverance.

She looked at the soldier in front of her quietly, and the simple exchange of gazes was enough to calm down the soldier who had been screaming heartbreakingly just now.

Nightingale looked at the mouth that was still bleeding.

A wounded man was close at hand.

"It doesn't look like this person was seriously injured. Are there other seriously injured people?" She said calmly: "Wait until I finish rescuing the others and then come back to see him."