Sherlock Holmes

"I can see that you get along very well." Watson said with a smile, and then naturally followed Sherlock towards the body.

The staff of the London Police Department felt as if they were facing a formidable enemy, but they could not abandon the scene of the crime and run away. They could only subconsciously step back to both sides in order to keep distance from the oncoming man.

As for Mark, who was still standing next to the cordon, he didn't seem to understand the scene in front of him for a moment. He just stared blankly at Sherlock walking towards the dazzling lights. Everyone stepped aside as if they were worshiping. The bright red corpse, against the pale white background, had a strange sense of sanctity, as if it was piously welcoming something.

In fact, Sherlock has long been used to this kind of scene.

As long as he is at the scene of a crime, he will naturally exude an aura of control over everything. Even if the Pope or the Emperor is standing next to him, he will not restrain himself at all.

In fact, Sherlock has always hoped that one day, as a detective, he could stand in front of the emperor's body and lead to the emperor's death. If he could be allowed to detect the case, tsk tsk, it really makes me happy just thinking about it. Damn.

Taking a few steps forward, Sherlock stepped into the white light of the enhanced gas lamp.

A bloody corpse lay in front of me

All ten fingers were broken, and the nails were lifted upwards, revealing the tender flesh inside. The limbs were twisted at a hair-raising angle. The shirt was completely soaked in blood, and the lower jaw was dislocated. It looked like it was torn apart due to the screams. The joint socket was broken, and the two eyes were missing, turning into two big black holes. Under the light, you can clearly see the traces of dried thick slurry inside.

"What do you think?" Sherlock asked.

Of course he was asking Watson. He didn't know why, but Sherlock would ask another person's opinion at the crime scene.

This has never happened in the past few decades.

Watson didn't have the slightest sense of being flattered. He slowly lowered his body, pinched the drooped eyelids on his eyes with great gentleness, and glanced into the scary eye holes.

"He didn't die at the hands of humans." He directly gave such an answer.

"Tell me why."

"The orbicularis oculi muscle is not damaged, and the eye-closing reflex is one of the most instinctive behaviors of human beings. At this stage, there is no medical device that can remove the eyeball without damaging the muscles around the eye. Break it into pieces or take it out completely, regardless of whether the person is awake or under anesthesia.

So it can only be some kind of demon with special abilities, or a contractor.

But I prefer the former, because contractors who can complete such delicate operations must at least reach the second stage. "

As Watson said this, he stood up and took out a handkerchief from his coat pocket and wiped his fingertips carefully.

"No, you heard it, that's what the autopsy report says." Sherlock said to the surrounding staff.

The surrounding police officers were stunned because they didn't understand it very well. In this era, anatomy has not yet become popular, and any police officer can understand the word "orbicularis oculi".

As for the coroner, his expression was even more dull.

"Is there any problem?" Sherlock looked in the direction of the coroner and asked softly.

This look into each other's eyes almost made the brother scream out in fright.

"Mr. Sherlock, from our coroner's point of view, eye muscles cannot be used as autopsy evidence because they are too complex. We cannot just say it casually from one of your friends."

Just as he was talking, Sherlock was walking over with his eyes closed.

He was obviously a detective, but these few steps made him feel more oppressive than a murderer.

The coroner who just spoke was sweating.

Fortunately, Sherlock came to him and just patted his shoulder in a friendly manner:

"A rigorous work attitude is commendable, but trust between people is also important, right? I trust Dr. Watson, and you should trust him too."

The coroner didn't react at all, because his brain was buzzing with fear and he couldn't hear anything at all.

"Haha, don't be so nervous. If you don't understand, I'll tell you in a way that's easier to understand." Sherlock said lightly: "You can just write anything on the autopsy report now, including lyrics. Then go to Director Lestrade to sign and tell him that the case has been taken over by Sherlock Holmes, that's it, how about it."

The coroner swallowed: "Of course, Mr. Sherlock, I will go now."

After saying that, he directly carried a box of autopsy equipment and left the crime scene at an almost trotting speed.

"Hey, hey. Why are you going?"

Mark watched the coroner leave, somewhat unresponsive.

"It seems we are no longer needed here, so we won't disturb you." The police detective wearing a top hat tried his best to smile, and then waved to the crowd of police officers, indicating, 'Remove! ’

The group of people in police uniforms acted as if the prison door had been opened, and immediately ran towards the police carriage not far away without looking back.

During this period, some tools were dropped and clinked, but no one picked them up.

"Wait a minute." Mark stopped the detective: "Is this the end?"

"Yes, our mission is accomplished."

"But the autopsy"

"It's done."

"Inspection of the scene, inferring the devil's habits and body size from the corpse, whether there is any special attack method, and what common characteristics the attackers have."

Mark is obviously very professional in conquering demons, and he seems to have worked with the police before, so he knows how helpful a detective can be.

However, the other party just smiled politely: "It's done, it's all done. From now on, all matters here will be handled by Mr. Sherlock. With him around, we will only appear to be in the way."

"????"

Mark blinked, as if he had heard wrongly. After a while, he finally turned around and looked at the 'new colleague' squatting next to the body. He was speechless for a long time.

As for Sherlock and Watson.

The two of them were just like the two children who dug ant holes when they were young, squatting next to the bloody corpse, poking and quarreling.

How many breaths of time.

"Are you almost done with your reasoning?"

"Of course." Sherlock lit a pipe.