Barbed wire and black canvas enclose the site into separate areas.

On the distal wall, a humanoid target is erected at intervals.

A long rear passage, divided into a grid. Each compartment has a firing position, and on the brick and stone carved velvet gun platform, there are firearms such as the Offset Revolver, the Yakan Short-barreled Gun, and the Royal Eagle Hunting Gun.

These firearms are standard equipment for Sheriff's Police officers in all cities in England and are practiced according to personal preference. When patrolling, attending, or performing tasks, you can freely choose to wear it.

Of course, the most popular is the offset revolver, also known as the revolver. The old arms dealer has excellent quality, the six-bomb magazine is easy to load, easy to repair, easy to disassemble and easy to carry.

As for the other two, the advantage of the Yakan short gun is its fast rate of fire and twelve-round loading. However, the accuracy rate is low, and the intimidation effect is greater than the actual combat effect, but it is also a popular type.

The Royal Eagle Hunting Pistol, on the other hand, is more beautiful than practical, and is a face-saving product produced by the Royal Military Factory. The shape is long, the lines are beautiful, and the gunshots are loud. It is also a good choice for police officers who don't like to shoot.

Bang! Click!

Bang...... Bang......

Gunshots rang out one after another, reverberating through the underground shooting training ground of the Birzchenham City Sheriff's Department. Most of the shooting tables are filled with officers who are practicing, and under the guidance of instructors, they carefully aim, shoot, reload, and familiarize themselves with firearms......

Sherlock, on the other hand, sat alone in the rest room, staring at the notebook in his hand.

It was full of conversations with Mrs. Brown, mostly about Mr. Brown's recent situation. Such as personality, hobbies, characteristics, travel time, travel routes, and so on.

When Mrs. Brown was questioned at the time, she also expressed her doubts, thinking that Sherlock had asked too carefully.

However, after Sherlock's twists and turns, Mrs. Brown was convinced that it would be easier to find out the truth. So Mrs. Brown immediately told her all she knew, including the color of Mr. Brown's panties, and the privacy of snoring and talking to the bathroom.

After going through it and adding more content, Sherlock put the paper away, which was an important reason for him to track down Mr. Brown. Of course, the first thing to do is to complete today's shooting training.

As a rookie, Sherlock nervously walked onto a shooting table.

When one shot hit the barbed wire and the other almost hit the ceiling, two instructors rushed over with black faces and patiently instructed Sherlock on the correct way to shoot.

Time passes slowly in a tedious but very interesting process.

Sherlock repeatedly comprehended the instructor's instructions, repeating over and over again aiming, firing, reloading, aiming, firing, and reloading......

On the wall not far from him, an old pictorial newspaper was posted:

"Good gunners, they're all fed with bullets!"

Sherlock felt the same way!

......

4 p.m. sharp.

Sherlock officially finished today's shooting training, and after handing over the formalities, he received his choice of revolver, twelve rounds of ammunition, and a set of inspector uniforms.

He took an additional pair of armpit holsters and inserted the revolver. After getting dressed, I looked in front of the mirror and felt very satisfied.

With everything ready, Sherlock left the Sheriff's Office and watched all the way to a cane shop on Municipal Street.

As a unified and popular traditional cane culture throughout the British territory, colonies, neighboring free states and island nations. Walking sticks are standard for gentlemen. If you don't have a good cane in hand, it means that you are of a lower class.

The original owner, Sherlock. Kidd, a withdrawn and rebellious young man, has always scoffed at this tradition. It is believed that portable umbrellas and folding tool shovels are the most practical things for historical and archaeological experts.

Therefore, there are many good quality umbrellas in Sherlock's house, which can be used as crutches. So there is no such thing as a cane.

"It's going to cost money again......" Sherlock muttered as he pushed the door open.

All he had was left with 1 gold pound plus 5 crowns, and an old gold coin of George I.

Fortunately, Mrs. Brown had paid three gold pounds in advance for the event, so that Sherlock would not be able to run around to investigate at his own expense.

"Welcome, sir!"

A waiter walked over with a smile on his face, "What do you need?" I can do my best to recommend and meet all your requirements! ”

"Thanks, I'll take a look first."

Sherlock nodded, pausing at the counter, looking at the various walking sticks on display in the back cabinet.

There are crank canes, straight-handled canes, umbrella canes, sculpture round-handled canes, heavy canes, etc., as well as some special canes, double canes, hunting canes, and so on.

After repeated selection, trials, and price comparisons, Sherlock finally picked a cane that he thought was the most practical.

The round handle is extremely tough, the quality of the cane oak is excellent, not long or short to carry, the appearance is low-key, the price is 90 crowns, which is equivalent to half a month of ordinary people's life.

After paying for the goods, Sherlock added 5 crowns, temporarily deposited his umbrella and inspector's uniform in the cane shop, and then left.

Along the way, carrying a newly bought round copper cane with a heavy feel, and feeling the gun pouch close to his waist, Sherlock had a strong sense of security.

He walked along the road, walked into a small alley where bread workshops gathered, found a roadside stall, asked for a bowl of green vegetable and shrimp noodle soup, plus two black bread and two baked potatoes, and devoured dinner.

Although the taste is not very good, it is really filling, and it is also cheap.

After paying for the meal of 3 crowns, Sherlock was satisfied, carrying a round brass cane and taking a brisk step to the city tax office, which was not far from the city security office.

With a click, Sherlock took out his gold-encrusted rose pocket watch and opened it to check the time, which was exactly 5 o'clock in the afternoon. This time should be the time when Mr. Brown gets off work.

He found a slightly hidden bush and stood in the shadows, patiently watching and waiting.

Sure enough, as expected, Mr. Brown's familiar figure caught Sherlock's eye. Dressed in a crisp black official suit and a top hat, he ran down the steps as if he were in a hurry and jumped into a hired horse-drawn carriage.

"Follow the one in front of you and keep your distance!"

Sherlock also jumped into the other carriage and commanded in a low voice.

The coachman gave him a "I understand" look, and with a flick of the reins, the carriage sprang up and down, and gradually caught up with Mr. Brown, hanging tightly behind him.

After about half an hour, the carriage turned into Sherlock's unfamiliar Sycamore Street, heading for a row of buildings hidden among the trees.

Eventually, Mr. Brown's carriage, parked next to one of the buildings, seemed to be waiting for something.

Sherlock took a closer look at the environment and saw an old sign nailed to the wall of the building's front yard that read: "Commonwealth Street Song and Dance Preservation Society near Berzinham."

He was pondering what this song and dance protection society was, when he heard the coachman whistle softly, and let out a lewd laugh from Kukuku.

"You know this place?" Sherlock asked in a whisper.

"Dear sir, aren't you here for fun?" The coachman turned his head, smiling with a wink, giving a "I understand" look.

Sherlock: "......"

Obviously, this is a fireworks venue......

GodTM Cabaret Protection Association...... Sherlock complained to himself, but still didn't let go.

In a moment, a young woman with a graceful figure and a high-shouldered fluffy velvet dress of roses rushed out merrily to Mr. Brown's carriage.

Not knowing what to say, Mr. Brown cautiously dismounted from the carriage and looked around. The woman had taken him by the arm affectionately and led Mr. Brown into the building.

"Sir, aren't you going to go in?" The coachman looked at it from afar, turned around and asked with a lewd expression.

"I'll take a break in your car, don't talk, just stop here, thank you." Sherlock closed the window of the carriage so that the coachman would not be rambling again.

The current situation does not mean that Mr. Brown is cheating. At least from Sherlock's observations, Mr. Brown appeared nervous, unfamiliar with the environment, and a hint of resistance.

If you really came to have fun, it wouldn't be this performance.

In addition, Mrs. Brown's suspicion was that Mr. Brown had eccentricities in the country. But this is not happening in the countryside.

Well, there must be a hidden secret.

After some thought, and estimating the time, Sherlock closed his eyes again and began to "peek at the trajectory".

The first is to condense the spiritual consciousness and construct a transparent and empty "door".

Then, in Sherlock's mind, Mr. Brown's personal information kept coming up, turning into pieces of trajectory one after another, slicing into the "door", and gradually forming a piece.

Eventually, the transparent and void "door" becomes a substance.

The rough stone door, which was dark and heavy, pitted and patchworked, closed heavily. Like a high wall in the spiritual consciousness, it is deep and simple, revealing a strange and unpredictable atmosphere.

Sherlock is immersed in the scene at the moment, approaching the "Gate of Tracks" step by step.

Keep looking closer!

The potholes and rough black stone door gradually enlarged, and it was close at hand!

A large amount of black tentacle-like fog swirled around the stone door.

A keyhole appears!

Sherlock took out the "key to luck" that he imagined, was willing to give, and created, and inserted it into the keyhole.

Click-

In the crunching sound, on the dark and heavy potted stone door, the keyhole swallowed the "trick key". Then the keyhole gradually enlarged, as if cracking a crack, revealing a faint light behind the door, and a faint sound.

Sherlock leaned in to the keyhole and peeked.

......