Sherlock Holmes

Chapter 47 In my career.

Tomas Cordoba.

In fact, his name is not that important. After a while, he may not be able to remember his own name.

Because he had slowly opened his only one eye, and then he saw a row of glass jars. Through the turbid liquid inside, he could vaguely make out that there was something floating in one of the jars. A human head with its skin and tissue removed.

He swallowed, and the last scene in his memory was of two people madly abusing their contracted demon.

Thinking of this, his heart suddenly beat wildly, and the feeling of emptiness spread throughout his body.

He could clearly feel that his contracted demon was dead.

Because of the connection between the devil and its master, he began to feel the severe pain in his mind, nausea, twitching of all the muscles and organs in his body, emptiness, and despair.

This is a backlash effect caused by the loss of the contracted creature. Fortunately, it has just reached the first stage. If it reaches the second or third stage, the death of the contracted demon may directly cause its owner to become a madman or a vegetative state due to the backlash. , or die on the spot.

It took him a long time to finally force himself to calm down in this sense of emptiness; then, he looked around and found that the place he was in was an operating room, but the sanitary environment was extremely Oops, all the facilities have an unpleasant smell.

The body was tied to an operating table, but instead of lying down, the operating table was raised to an angle that was almost standing, so he could see the surrounding environment clearly.

"Is he imprisoned?" he thought.

The next second, there was only the sound of 'Kara' turning the handle, the door of the room was pushed open, and then a very handsome man, who could even be called beautiful, walked in.

Very typical British clothing, a crisp shirt and trousers, a tie with a reasonable color, and light yellow hair. There is a certain noble and quiet atmosphere between the eyebrows and a cup of coffee in the hand, which seems to be in harmony with the room. The style doesn't match at all.

The three eyes met, Watson put one hand in his pocket, smiled and took a sip of coffee: "It seems you are awake!"

He must have heard the sound, and soon, another person came into view.

The tall and thin figure, the face with sharp edges and corners——Sherlock Holmes!

Tomas Cordoba's only remaining eyeball suddenly widened, revealing an undisguised rage!

As a dependent of Deacon Badr, after his death, he was dismissed by the Holy See from all positions, houses, and property.

Even the right to enter churches for worship has been taken away.

As a devout believer, this is simply more uncomfortable than killing him!

What was even more unacceptable to him was that he had been following Deacon Badr for almost twenty years. He had carried out countless tasks issued by the Tribunal. With his ability to assassinate demons silently, he had accumulated a lot of honors. If he continued to After a few years, you might be able to be favored by the Holy See and train yourself to be promoted to the second stage of the contractor. By then, you might even become a clergyman!

However, all of this was shattered that night a few days ago.

His master is dead!

Without warning, suddenly!

Tomas Cordoba is just a relative, so naturally he cannot know the truth of this matter, but after all, he is a member of the Holy See. He has worked for so many years and has some channels of information of his own.

So after being kicked out of the church, deprived of his faith, and losing all hope in life, he spent all the favors and credibility he had accumulated and found a name: Sherlock Holmes.

A downtown private investigator.

Although the details are not known, Deacon Bader died just after his encounter with the detective. He died on Baker Street, which was also the location of the detective's agency.

Therefore, Tomas Cordoba naturally poured all his anger and unwillingness into this civilian detective.

It made sense both emotionally and rationally, but the result was a bit beyond his expectation.

"Very good, you can tell from just this look that he has a high degree of hatred towards me." Sherlock said, then walked towards the operating table and looked at the other person's face that had not yet wiped away the blood: "Aren't you going to follow me?" What should I say?"

"Hahaha——" Tomac Cordoba laughed wildly: "You garbage in the lower city, you will not get any information from me, you will experience fear and uneasiness in my most vicious curse. , trembling in the darkest corner until he is killed!"

Sherlock frowned, looked at Watson and asked, "Do all the people in the Vatican speak in this tone?"

"Absolutely." Watson sipped his coffee: "People who pray too much are like this. Priest Thompson is usually more annoying than this!"

"Okay." Sherlock shrugged and said to Tomas Cordoba: "Then after my simple analysis, you should be a close confidant of Deacon Bader. His death gave you a big blow. , your position in the Holy See is not high, you can only find me, a poor man in the lower city, and you want to kill me. Of course, judging from what you just said, you probably told me my name. Otherwise, it would be impossible for others to think that I would be killed by some kind of 'killing' in this situation, right?"

Tomas Cordoba was stunned, and wisely shut his mouth and stopped talking.

"Who is Deacon Bader?" Watson asked curiously.

"You must have heard of the commission I received before. He was a clergyman. Hey, it's not easy to be a detective. From time to time, you will offend people." Sherlock sighed helplessly: "Then the rest of the commission Here you go.”

"Okay." Watson said, placing the coffee cup on a bloody table by the wall, and then began to carefully and neatly roll up the cuffs of his shirt above the forearm, which looked very ritualistic, like It seemed like I was going to sit down at the piano and play a song next.

Of course, there was no piano here, so Watson took out a hollow iron hoop from the drawer very skillfully and stuffed it into Tomas Cordoba's mouth.

"Hello, sir, my name is John Watson. Although it is very presumptuous, I need to inform you now that we are about to start a little game. During this period, in order to prevent you from biting off your tongue. , delaying our chat, I have no choice but to pull out all your teeth first."

As he spoke, he took out another pair of pliers. The dried blood stains on them formed a strange contrast with the beautiful hand.

The next second, he directly inserted the pliers into the other person's mouth, clamped a front tooth and twisted it skillfully! ! ! !

“Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh”

"Okay, okay, there's no need to be so loud. Tooth extraction is just a precautionary measure. Our execution hasn't started yet." Watson's eyes were smiling and he seemed to enjoy the process: "By the way, if you want If you feel the desire to chat, just blink, of course. I definitely don’t want you to give up so quickly, you are a person of faith, right, let’s try to play for a few more hours.”

As he spoke, another tooth was pulled out.

Sherlock was very satisfied with Watson's precautions and techniques. He could see that he was indeed experienced, so he simply didn't bother him here.

"You take your time and I'll wait outside."

After saying that, he walked out of the room and closed the door thoughtfully.

The screams were cut off, and Sherlock found a sofa to sit down. But less than half an hour later, Watson opened the door and walked out. He wiped the blood on his hands and muttered a little disappointed: "Really, I thought I could play a little longer."

"Did you ask?"

Watson smiled:

"We just met. You may not know me. In my career, there is no such thing as 'can't ask'."