Wang Feng didn't know whether to tell Conan Doyle what he knew, and he was a little hesitant, because this was not an area that Conan Doyle could set foot in, and if he told him, it would only bring him danger.

"Perhaps the so-called Jack the Ripper is not a person, but a group...... Of course, this is nothing more than my guess. ”

Conan Doyle had already seen some clues, and if he answered directly, he didn't know, but it would make him suspicious.

"You're saying Jack the Ripper is a group, not a person...... In fact, we thought the same way before, but it was a little illogical. The guess that Wang Feng said, Conan Doyle also thought about it.

"Illogical?"

"Hmm...... This is an internal secret, so I can't give it to you. He looked at Wang Feng apologetically, because the news was an internal secret, so he couldn't tell Wang Feng.

"It's okay......" Wang Feng looked at Conan Doyle a little embarrassed, and didn't say anything more.

But an ominous premonition arose.

"Jack the Ripper is definitely a group, and their head is Moritia...... But why would the police deny Jack the Ripper as a group? Could it be ...... Those guys have infiltrated the police. ”

Wang Feng only felt cold sweat on his back when he thought of this.

"Nope! Those cults must have infiltrated not only the police, but all of London. ”

Conan Doyle coughed, "Why do I feel weird about you?" ”

"I ...... Do I have one? ”

Wang Feng was obviously a little flustered.

"Forget it...... I'm a little sleepy. Conan Doyle turned directly to the side, turned his back to Wang Feng and closed his eyes.

Wang Feng glanced at the bed before Holmes, which was a little messy.

At this moment, his brain went blank, and he came to his own realm of thought.

The countless fragments floating in the air began to coalesce under his imagination and turned into the bed that Holmes had used.

The quilt was messy, and it seemed that he was in a hurry when he left...... But what could make him so flustered? Could it be Moritia? ”

Wang Feng slowly walked over and carefully examined the bed.

"The sheets are a little dirty...... But it shouldn't be like this! ”

Holmes was in a coma, and every once in a while a nurse would come and wash the sheets.

"Could it be that Holmes has already woken up, just pretending to be unconscious?"

Debris appeared in the air again, then gathered together and took on the form of Conan Doyle.

"Just now Conan Doyle said that Sherlock Holmes woke up yesterday, and looking at his expression, he is not lying...... That means that Sherlock Holmes deceived us, in fact, he was already awake, but for some reason he had to pretend to be unconscious. ”

If that's what you imagined, what did Holmes really want to do?

The fragments disintegrated again, then coalesced into the form of Sherlock Holmes.

"Why do you hide the fact that you woke up?"

Sherlock Holmes, constructed in the realm of thought, looked at his bed and pointed.

"Did you leave me a clue?"

Holmes nodded.

Wang Feng abruptly withdrew from the realm of thinking, lifted the quilt, got out of bed, and held the hanging bottle in his left hand.

"Bang!"

Because he didn't get out of bed for too long, his legs were a little weak, and he fell heavily to the ground, and the hanging bottle was instantly shattered, and the nutrient solution inside splashed out directly.

"Resting ......"

The glass shards pierced directly into the back of Wang Feng's hand.

Conan Doyle stood up abruptly and looked at him in surprise: "What are you doing here?" ”

Seeing Wang Feng fall to the ground, he quickly got out of bed.

Wang Feng directly pulled out the needle inserted in his hand, and slowly stood up with the bed frame.

"Sherlock Holmes left a clue......"

Conan Doyle hurriedly supported Wang Feng: "Then you don't need to be in such a hurry!" ”

"Help me to the bedside of Sherlock Holmes...... Wang Feng didn't stand still and fell again, fortunately Conan Doyle directly supported him.

"What can't you take your time, you're still very weak now......" Conan Doyle hadn't finished speaking, and he didn't say anything more when he saw Wang Feng's expression so solemn.

The two came to the bedside.

Wang Feng pressed the pinhole in his arm, but the blood was still there, and it kept flowing down.

He pondered the Sherlock Holmes he had just conceived in the realm of thought, and crouched down to look for clues on the bed.

"Maybe it's not that Holmes doesn't want to tell us, but he can't tell us...... It's just that Conan Doyle didn't notice it at the beginning. ”

But when you think about it, it doesn't feel like that.

"No, maybe he didn't want to tell Conan Doyle in the first place, Holmes had already guessed that I would use the realm of thought to find clues for him......"

Conan Doyle grabbed Wang Feng's hand and pressed the bleeding place: "You stop your bleeding first......"

"Get me to bed."

"Huh? After a long time, you just want to change the bed...... You just tell the nurse directly, you need to spend so much effort? ”

Conan Doyle was confused, and he didn't understand what the hell this guy in front of him was trying to do.

"Hurry up!"

"Okay, okay, don't rush, I'll help you get to bed." Conan Doyle helped Wang Feng to Holmes's bed.

Wang Feng felt a little uncomfortable lying there, and there seemed to be something in the pillow on the Sherlock Holmes bed.

As soon as you shake your head, there is a creaking sound from inside.

"In the pillow."

He hurriedly got up, shook off Conan Doyle's hand, picked up the pillow and dismantled it.

"You're not crazy, are you?"

Just when Conan Doyle thought Wang Feng was crazy, Wang Feng took out a letter from the pillow.

"Found it, this is the clue that Holmes left us."

"How do you know?" Conan Doyle didn't expect Sherlock Holmes to leave them a clue, and this clue was found by Wang Feng. A strange thought suddenly appeared in my heart: "Could it be that these two guys have such a leg?" ”

Wang Feng ignored Conan Doyle and tore open the envelope.

"What the hell is going on, for you to pretend to be unconscious...... And leave a trail. ”

His hands were shaking, and blood was dripping onto the sheets.

"Your hand ......," Conan Doyle stepped forward again and pressed Wang Feng's bleeding wound.

Wang Feng's face turned pale when he saw the letter, and his lips trembled slightly: "How can it be like this?" ”

"What's wrong?" Conan Doyle hurried over to see what was written on the letter in her hand.

But Wang Feng hurriedly put the letter away, and didn't mean to show it to Conan Doyle.