Late at night, in Downtown, in a secluded bar.

In the dim light of the table, the scruffy man gulped the liquor into his mouth, his eyes mesmerized. His hair was unkempt. His clothes, which had been decent and neat, were now dirty in the unbridled ravages of his master.

It's like the waste everywhere in Downtown, immersed in alcohol, escapism. It's just that he still looks rich and can afford to drink the most expensive spirits.

"Fuck, bunch of bullshit!" Lestrade foamed, tilted his head to finish the bottle, snapped his fingers, and told the bartender to serve another bottle.

The bartender didn't seem to see it, and after a long time he didn't respond, he was furious, and was about to flip the table when he saw a new bottle of wine placed in front of him.

Even if he was already drunk, he could vaguely tell that this was a fine whisky smuggled from Burgundy, produced for 30 years, and a rare good product.

Immediately afterwards, a figure sat opposite him, the silhouette looked well-dressed, full of elegance, and in a gentle tone:

"Hey, friend, do you mind if I'm sitting here? I've had a lot of things lately, and I need a friend to share it with me with a nice bottle of wine. ”

Lestrade raised his eyes and glanced at him, but he was too drunk to see what he looked like. The visitor took off his top hat, placed it on the table, and opened the bottle gracefully and smoothly, pouring a full glass for him and himself.

"Come, a toast to the great Avalon. ”

The gentleman raised his glass, and Lestrade hesitated, pursed his lips, and raised his glass: "Fuck Avalon." ”

As soon as I drank it, the sweet liquor flowed down my throat, and it seemed that even my dull sanity was awakened. He pursed his lips, threw away his glass, and gestured to the comer with a middle finger:

"Alright, you can get out. ”

"It's barbaric. ”

The visitor shook his head and sighed, raised his head and drank the wine, and put down the wine glass: "Why drink wine alone." Friend. Life is short, you always have to find a friend to express your inner suffering, you lack a good audience. ”

"Fuck, Neuropath......"

Lestrade gave the guy a blank look. Slap the table and get up, ready to leave.

"Sit down. ”

Behind him, the elegant voice said.

I don't know why, his eyes are full of flowers, and his knees are weak. I put it back in my chair.

"It's good, that's the basis of the conversation, be polite and open up. ”

Just as he was stunned, the visitor chuckled softly: "Introduce myself, my name is Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes.

First time we met, Inspector Lestrade, I've admired the name for a long time......"

In an instant, Lestrade was more than half awake from his wine. He opened his eyes and finally saw the outfit of the comer, but he couldn't help but feel a chill in his heart.

In the flickering light of the oil lamp, the man who called himself Sherlock Holmes sat in the shadows, and the faint light illuminated the gown on his body, but the gown had a beastly hideousness, and it was fearful to look at.

The candlelight danced on his face, but the dappled light and shadow did not illuminate his face, only a blur. In the blur, there was a pair of dark eyes reflecting the light of the candle. It's like burning.

The noise in the tavern seemed to fade away, and with the appearance of the man, he and he were cut off in an unobtrusive corner by some force.

People come and go, but no one looks here.

The man laughed. The voice was hoarse: "It looks like you're still drunk, how about we play a game to sober up?"

As he spoke, he pulled a marble out of his pocket and tossed it into the glass in front of him. Immediately afterward, two wine glasses were upside down on the table, spinning in his hands at a dizzying speed.

When the short and swift movement is over. Sherlock let go of his hand and pointed to the two wine glasses in front of him, "Guess what, which glass is it in?"

Lestrade looked at him warily, but the man seemed to be smiling, just spreading his hands, waiting for his choice, looking patient.

He wanted to turn away, but the chill that didn't trigger it made him hesitate.

After a long time, he reached out and pointed to the cup on his right.

"Wrong choice!"

The man lifted the cup, and the cup was empty: "If you choose the wrong one, there will be a punishment." ”

Syllable!

Before Lestrade could react, his face hurt hotly, and it was a slap in the face.

A slap that contains disdain, sarcasm, and ridicule.

"...... the"

Lestrade was furious, slapped the table up, and was about to raise his fist and slam it on the fellow's face, but saw the man raise his eyelids and look at him, his voice as cold as ice.

"I've said it, sit down!"

Boom!

Lestrade sat back in his chair as if his body was out of his control.

A biting chill rushed from his heel to the back of his head, and the cold sting called fear cleared his senses, and he barely sobered up from his drunkenness. But he would rather he be drunk to the point of being unconscious.

"Alright, let's get back to the game. ”

On the table, the two cups moved again, and soon, stopped again. The man chuckled softly, "It's time to choose again." ”

"What the hell do you want to do?!"

Lestrade glared at the figure in front of him: "You'd better be clear, bastard, or you'll be in prison and caressed by a group of men!"

"Hehe, are you finally sober?"

The ghostly man chuckled softly, "I'm sorry, I'd like to play two more rounds." But now it seems that we can start a pleasant conversation. ”

"Talking, you're dreaming!"

Lestrade took a sip, feeling that he had seen through the essence of this guy's lustful inwardness, and sneered: "When it is dawn tomorrow, I will have a good talk with you in the prison detention room! ”

He stretched out his finger and pointed at the guy's chest, with a gloomy expression: "You better understand who I really am!"

"It's so unkind. ”

The man shook his head and sighed, reaching out to hold his fingers, "It's really, so unkind." ”

Lestrade was stunned for a moment, and wanted to pull out his hand, but he felt that the hand was like an iron tong, clamping his fingers tightly!

Immobile.

"I already know who you are, but you don't figure it out......"

He heard the hoarse laughter:

"-Who am I?"

Snap!

Suddenly, there was a crisp sound, it was the sound of bones shattering.

Lestrade's face changed, and he immediately opened his mouth to scream. But he couldn't make a sound, as if his throat was gagged. The pain irritated his nerves and cerebral cord, and he was almost insane.

He twitched, clutching his severed finger and screaming silently, his body writhing and trembling with difficulty, his eyeballs almost protruding from his sockets.

"Now, can you calm down?

Mr. Lestrade, I have come to you just to have a friendly communication with you, so why should you be so rude?"

The man smiled, lowered his eyes, and looked into his face: "Or is it that the emotional dispute between you and your noble-born lady has made your sanity a little out of control?"

In the midst of the pain and rage, Lestrade finally understood one thing, the guy in front of him ...... Is a complete lunatic!

He glared at the bastard, and asked with difficulty:

"You investigate me!"

"Investigate you?"

The man who called himself Sherlock froze, as if he had heard a joke, glanced at Lestrade's face, and shook his head earnestly.

It was a disdainful response, full of contempt and indifference, and it was doubly humiliating.

His face turned red, he gasped heavily, and his eyes were full of murderous intent: "No matter how you know, bastard, I'm going to kill you, understand?!I'm going to kill you!"

You'll be thrown into the stinking gutter with you!"

"Hahaha, look at your face, sir, with everything written on your face plainly. ”

The damn creature burst out laughing, got up suddenly, stepped on the table, and looked down on him condescendingly. The man lifted Lestrade's chin with his raised cane and stared at his pale face:

"Do you know a science called deductiveness? Let me give you a demonstration?"

He paused, and laughed meaningfully:

"Next, it's time for reasoning. (To be continued.) )