"Click~"

Watson pushed open the door and made his way to the living room.

Sherlock had already returned early, lying on the couch on one side, and on his side, a suitcase was placed.

The suitcase was not large, it was a small one, but it had been opened, and there were a lot of clothes and paper documents inside.

Sherlock didn't seem to notice his arrival at all, just silently staring at a piece of paper in his hand.

He walked over to Sherlock with his cane and tapped the box with his hand.

"What is this?"

"The poor mechanical engineer's box." Sherlock said without looking back.

He looked at Watson's puzzled eyes and raised his eyebrows.

"I killed him and snatched his box."

Watson looked at Sherlock speechlessly.

"Don't you believe it?" Sherlock laughed, "It's logical. ”

"Where did you find this thing?" Watson asked curiously.

"The murderer must have personally taken him to Lauriston Gardens, and if the box was in the car, the murderer would have been able to get his box. There will be no murderer who has the victim's things with him all the time, and once he finds out that he has the victim's things in his hands, he will definitely dispose of him out of desperation. ”

Sherlock looked at Watson, "I bet he'll have to recognize this mistake in less than five minutes." ”

"I checked the backstreets and alleys near Lauriston Gardens that wouldn't be noticeable if you dropped a big item within a five-minute drive, and I found it in less than an hour."

"How can you be sure this is his chest?"

Sherlock handed the paper to Peanut.

Watson took the paper and looked at it, although he didn't know anything about mechas, he could still see that the drawings were all mechas, as well as some incomprehensible parameters.

"The victim was invited by the government, and as I said before, he is not a very delicate person, so he probably doesn't bring too many clothes, and generally speaking, the suitcase should contain some documents.

Because it is a relatively important document, you need to carry it with you. ”

"I'm a little curious." Watson said, "How did you know what the murderer looked like?" ”

"Isn't it obvious?" Sherlock said in surprise.

"Only you think."

Sherlock looked shocked, "I remember you also watched my deduction, as long as you know a little bit of logic, it should be easy to deduce. What the hell is in your head, it must be boring, right? ”

Watson pursed his lips, obviously speechless, but still sat on the couch to the side and waited for his answer.

"As soon as I got there, I noticed the marks of several scarab carts on the sidewalk." "It didn't rain for a whole week until last night, so it should have been last night that left such a deep mark," he said. In addition, there are also the imprints of the scarab's mechanical feet, some of which are darker, while others are more shallow, and it is clear that this difference can only be caused by repairs.

This kind of car is very characteristic, it has eight legs, and few people sit in this kind of car nowadays because it is very bumpy. And until morning, not a single scarab car had ever been on that street, as Gregerson told me.

So there is a high probability that it was the car that transported those two people. ”

"It seems to be relatively simple." Watson nodded, "What about height?" ”

"A person's height can be extrapolated from his stride length. It doesn't seem complicated, but I won't bother you with numbers. From the dirt outside the house and the dust inside the house, I could measure the guy's stride.

There is also a way to check the results. When a person writes on the wall, he will instinctively write above the level of vision. He wrote the words more than one meter eight above the ground. It's almost common sense.

And his age, if a person can cross one meter three without difficulty, he will definitely not be a sallow and thin old man. A pool of water on the garden path was so wide, and he clearly stepped over it.

Those in patent leather boots go around, while those in square toe boots jump over. There's nothing mysterious about this. ”

He looked at Watson, "Do you want me to explain the nails and cigars?" ”

Without waiting for Watson to answer, he interrupted Watson.

"I'm interested in explaining this to you, but now I'd like to say something else.

While looking for it, I found a patrol officer on duty who was on duty at 10 p.m. and 6 a.m. ”

"Just the time to commit the murder?"

"He was indeed the first person to find a body." Sherlock said.

Watson's eyes widened, "Did he see the murderer?" ”

"No, but there was a drunkard on the street at the time, guess what this drunkard looks like?"

Watson seemed to have thought of something, "A red-faced middle-aged man over 1.8 meters? ”

Sherlock hooked the corners of his mouth.

Watson stood up excitedly, "He's right there!" Such a great opportunity they missed! ”

Sherlock shrugged, "You can't expect everyone to have brains in their skulls. More often than not, it's actually human tissue that says it's the brain. ”

Watson asked, confused, "Was he there when the body was found?" ”

"Do you notice something is wrong?" An imperceptible smile appeared on Sherlock's face.

"So, he's gone, but why is he coming back?" Watson asked, confused.

"Perhaps, something that belongs to him fell there." Sherlock said.

"Something that belongs to him?" Watson wondered, "But there's nothing there." ”

"yes." Sherlock muttered softly as he stared at the suitcase in front of him, "Where's this thing going to fall?" ”

Watson followed his gaze to the suitcase.

"Have you noticed that there is something in this that does not belong to him?" Sherlock continued.

Watson crouched down and began to rummage through the suitcase, but after looking around, he didn't find anything wrong.

"I can't find it."

"Of course you can't find it, because it's with me." Sherlock opened his hand, revealing the ring in his palm.

Watson's face froze suddenly, "You still let me find something from you?" ”

"I'm just going to see when you'll find out." Sherlock looked at the mess in the box, "You've searched carefully enough. ”

Watson took a deep breath, suppressed the anger in his heart, and said, "What's that?" ”

"Rings." Sherlock whispered, "A women's ring." ”

"So the murderer is a woman?"

"Your brain is really single-threaded." Sherlock complained, "Have you ever seen a burly red-faced woman over 1.8 meters?" ”

Watson shrugged, "Who knows, the human body is always wonderful. ”

(End of chapter)