Sherlock Holmes

With so many people patrolling here, it was obvious that this was the scene of the crime, and the body of the murdered church deacon’s wife was on the corner of the street 20 meters away.

The entire security team had to waste all the strength of the boss to seal off the place to prevent damage to the scene, and this guy who appeared out of nowhere actually smoked here! ! !

The Sheriff walked up to Sherlock in a few steps. After confirming that the other party did not bear any signs related to the church or the nobility, he naturally regarded him as an entourage of the carriage.

The huge three-meter-tall machine under his house looked at him fiercely: "You! Put out the cigarette immediately!"

The mechanical arm cannot complete the delicate operation of 'pulling off the cigarette', but judging from this guy's tone, he doesn't mean to pull off the cigarette, but rather wants to pull off the other person's head and the cigarette together.

"Don't be so nervous, brother, smoking a cigarette can't damage anything at all." Sherlock raised his head and waved his hands calmly:

"Even if it can be destroyed, you steam iron sheets have been spraying nearby for several hours. What should be destroyed has already been destroyed."

"Uh--" The Sheriff's tone paused.

The exhaust pipe behind the armor is also very good at timing and spewing out several streams of heat.

As a peace officer, he mostly does strenuous tasks such as 'assisting in cleaning out small demons' or 'escorting church members', but he is really not that good at things like protecting crime scenes.

Looking back, he saw Miss Catherine standing not far away. From this distance, the conversation between each other could definitely be heard clearly.

A wave of embarrassment rushed directly to his forehead.

He undoubtedly admired Miss Catherine, or in other words, most men who knew something about this judgmental nun would be attracted to her.

Young, beautiful, pious, brave, well-educated, with an excellent family background and bloodline, almost all kinds of virtues can be found in her. What is even more valuable is that she is a contractor who has reached the second stage.

This natural gap prevents countless admiration from turning into admiration, and can only be disguised as a kind of male worship for the strong.

This made the sheriff even more angry! But he still forced himself to show some chivalry and gritted his teeth and said:

"Get out of here as quickly as possible, civilian! This is not where you should be!"

The words have not yet fallen

"He can't go yet," Catherine said for the first time since arriving.

The Sheriff looked back in shock.

The blurry and soft face under the light made him dazed for a moment, and he was a little unsure of what he heard:

"Although it's hard to believe, from now on, this guy is the main person responsible for this murder."

The Sheriff looked at the beautiful woman under the light in confusion, then lowered his head and looked at Sherlock who was still smoking calmly.

He knew that Miss Catherine would bring back a capable person who could solve the case this time, but he did not expect that it would be such an inconspicuous civilian.

He couldn't figure out the reason for this, so he could only stay in place, stunned for a few seconds;

but

He seemed to be able to feel that Miss Catherine had no good impression of this civilian, let alone any respect, which made the young sheriff feel a lot more comfortable.

"Sorry." He hid the conflict in his heart: "What should I call you?"

"Sherlock Private Eye."

"Okay, Mr. Detective." He didn't call the other party's name, let alone his own name, but continued in a very procedural way:

"In this case, you should know the nature of this incident, so before you see the body, you need to swear to the Holy Light not to expose all the details of the case to anyone, including your closest relatives and loved ones."

He skillfully babbled out a long list of vows, but the general content was just one: Keep this matter in your gut!

Sherlock had long expected this kind of procedure. For people in the uptown area, civilians generally had little credibility.

He himself understands this view very well. After all, most people in Xiacheng District are busy working for a living, and reputation is really worthless.

So he followed the other party and recited the oath without hesitation.

After the oath was completed, there was only a soft click sound, and a thin black card as long as a thumb popped out from the Sheriff's armored arm.

This was a miniature gramophone record on which the oaths had just been taken; all oaths were sent to the ecclesiastical tribunal. If someone violates the rules, they will be wanted and tried by deacons.

Under the church, the oath cannot be illusory. You can beep blindly by raising three fingers. If you violate it, you will not be hit with thunder and lightning.

Rather, there are records, entities, and real constraints with disciplinary effects.

Of course, the Inquisition will not really take every oath seriously. In their words, the Holy Light will not pay attention to those who are irrelevant.

Therefore, the Tribunal never takes the initiative to investigate someone. This institution is completely independent of the social system. Even if the mayor, general, or even the emperor or the pope wants to investigate a person and check his oath, he must submit absolutely reasonable and valid documents. necessary reasons.

The Sheriff handed the newly generated oath to a subordinate, then turned around and motioned for Sherlock to follow.

A few steps away, just beyond the reach of the gas lamp, a deep alley lay quietly hidden in the shadows.

At the junction of light and dark, several people in priest robes stood piously and humblely, with their heads slightly lowered, holding brass pendants engraved with sacred verses in their hands, chanting rhythmically.

In front of these people, stood a tall middle-aged man, nearly two meters tall, with no hair and a very thick beard. The robe on his body was mainly blue, but there was a wide and abrupt blood-red stripe. The notice extended from the collar to the hem. The night wind blew by, and the robe gently swayed, occasionally outlining the exaggerated muscle outlines that did not look like humans under the robe.

This outfit shows that this person is an executive of the Judgment Department!

Under the church, the purest enforcer of violence.

Different from the Crusaders along the Redeker Strait, these people are focused on purging the empire: those who have broken the oath, rebels, those who blasphemed the Holy Light, and those who committed unforgivable sins, etc. .

They have the most cruel torture, the most bloody methods, the most stringent execution, weapons comparable to those of the Holy Legion, and authority above the laws of the empire. They have almost everything except the heart of mercy.

Therefore, these guys wearing bloody notices are more terrifying than demons in the eyes of most citizens of the empire.

"Your Excellency Badr." The Sheriff lowered his head as hard as he could. Although he was much taller than the other person with his steel armor, he still showed a clearly visible sense of humility: "This is Sherlock, a detective. "It was Miss Catherine who came for me."

The man known as Badr raised his hand to indicate that there was no need to say any more; then he turned his head, his brows were high, his eyes were covered in darkness, and he looked at Sherlock.

A few seconds later.

"I don't care about identity, profession, mortal, or contractor. I don't even care if you are a citizen. My wife is dead, and I need a murderer alive!"

The voice was deep, and no sadness could be heard, but Sherlock noticed that the moment the word 'alive' was spoken, the sheriff next to him trembled subconsciously.

It must have reminded me of the torture in some churches' blood prisons that made life worse than death.

After saying this, Deacon Badri turned sideways and let the light from the street lamp enter the alley.

A shocking scene appeared before Sherlock's eyes.