When he opened his eyes again, he was tied to a chair, his hands were tied to the armrests of the chair, his feet were tied to the legs of the chair, and his body was completely tied to the back of the chair.

He looked around, it seemed to be some kind of private house, decoration is common in places like the imperial capital, the walls are covered with simple wallpaper, and there is a sofa and coffee table on the opposite side, which looks like a decent middle-class house.

There is some style, but not too extravagant, just a little messy.

A few papers were scattered randomly on the leather sofa, and next to the table opposite was a skeleton of a real person.

On the other side of the kitchen, on the countertop, there is a bunch of glass containers for chemical experiments. The alcohol lamp is heating a glass, and the liquid inside is gradually boiling as the alcohol lamp heats up.

It's kind of like some sort of Frankenstein habit.

And in front of him, Watson was playing with his wand.

Sherlock held his license in his hand, and he read it slowly as he looked at the words.

"Locke, trainee exorcist of the Exorcism Division, is twenty-three years old."

Sherlock took the license and opened the page of the photo, put it next to Locke and compared it, and after making sure that the person in the photo was him, he nodded silently.

"This certificate looks very decent."

"No matter how decent it is, it's fake." Watson said on one side.

Sherlock nodded nondeniably and continued, "Exorcists are special groups of people who don't have certificates. If you really want to pretend to be an official member of the agency, you have to name the organization as a mysterious response agency or something, not this old-fashioned exorcism division. ”

He casually closed the certificate and tossed it aside.

Watson also walked over from the side and said solemnly, "You can choose to remain silent, but everything you say will become evidence in court!" ”

Sherlock looked at Watson, "Although the lines are handsome, we are not trying him now, but interrogating him." ”

"Well, it's the first time I've done anything like this." Watson said.

"Have you ever seen an extremist interrogator on the battlefield?" Sherlock asked.

"No, but I've seen some videos."

Sherlock's eyes lit up, "Try it." ”

Watson looked at Locke coldly, his eyes cold as if he didn't care about any life.

"You'd better tell me everything you know, or you'll be in good hands."

Locke remained speechless, just staring at the two of them.

Watson looked at Sherlock helplessly.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow, "Looks like I'm still going to need some strong medicine." ”

Then he picked up a whip from the table on one side of it, and pulled it violently, and the whip was straightened instantly, making a popping sound.

Even if you haven't been whipped by this whip, you can imagine what it feels like to fall on you.

"Don't worry, this whip won't hurt you, it just hurts a little." Sherlock reassured, "I often whip corpses with it, and I know exactly what kind of damage it can do. I heard that some of the upper class in Britannia also liked to have women whip themselves, and I don't know where the hobby came from. ”

"Smack!"

Without any hesitation, Sherlock whipped Locke directly on Locke's leg. Locke's eyes widened directly, and his legs began to shrink subconsciously, but he was restrained by the rope and couldn't move at all.

Sherlock struck him on his right leg with another whip, and seeing that he still didn't speak, his hand quickened.

"Say it or not! Say it or not! Say it or not! ”

Whip every time you say it.

Locke struggled in pain in his chair, a muffled grunt coming out of his throat, his face pupils aching from pain, and he looked a little hideous.

He looked at Sherlock, who was still shouting "say it or not", and he gritted his teeth from his throat.

"Why are you asking!!"

Sherlock stopped the whip and looked at Watson to the side, puzzled. And Watson was also a little embarrassed and said, "It seems that I really didn't ask." ”

"You're my assistant now, and you'll have to warn me of this mistake at the right time." Charlotte said with a frown.

"Who knows." Watson shrugged.

Sherlock tossed the whip to his side and looked at Locke apologetically.

"I'm sorry, I thought you were the kind of professionally trained spy who could put up with it."

At this moment, the door on one side slowly opened, and Mrs. Hudson walked in with a plate on which three cups of coffee were placed.

She placed her coffee on the table on one side, and then saw Sherlock with the whip, and Locke tied to a chair with his trouser leg broken by the whip, and the bruises on it with a little bruise on it.

"Don't worry, Mrs. Hudson." Watson said, "We're torturing. No, he was interrogating him, he had something to do with the murderer of the serial suicide case. ”

Mrs. Hudson nodded, "Wait a minute, remember to let this friend drink the coffee." ”

Then she turned away, but she said at the door.

"And, Sherlock, be quiet, I can hear his wailing upstairs."

"No problem, thank you for your understanding, Mrs. Hudson." Watson nodded.

"Remember to close the door." Sherlock shouted, "And I want to eat something hot for the night." ”

Mrs. Hudson stood in the doorway and said gently and earnestly, "My dear, I have said many times that I am not your butler. ”

"I want borscht." Watson Road.

"I say it again, dear." Mrs. Hudson reluctantly said, "I am not your butler. ”

"Borscht." Sherlock nodded, "That's a good idea, indeed. ”

He shouted to Mrs. Hudson at the door, "I want borscht too!" ”

"Pak~"

The door shut, and Mrs. Hudson disappeared from their sight.

Sherlock walked over to the table to the side, picked up a cup of coffee, and then picked up another cup of coffee, and walked over.

He glanced at Watson, who seemed to have been friends for many years, and Watson quickly understood what Sherlock meant.

Watson reached out and pulled out a knife from his body, cutting the rope that bound Locke's hands.

Even so, he couldn't move his arms, only his lower arms below the joints, which allowed him to hold his coffee and drink it.

"We're not really bad people." Sherlock said.

Locke silently blew the hot air on the coffee cup with trembling hands, and then took a sip.

Then he said, "Then give me back that thing." ”

He pointed to the wand that Watson had casually dropped on the couch not far away.

"You answer our questions first." Sherlock said, "What do you have to do with that person?" ”

"Who?"

"The guy you're chasing. The taxi driver you chased last night was the scarab driver, right? Sherlock said.

Locke was silent for a moment, but nodded anyway, "That's right. ”

"Are you his enemy, or friend?"

"It should be considered an enemy." "I'm looking into something, and it has a lot to do with him," Locke said. ”

"What's the matter?" Sherlock continued.

"I can't say."

After saying this, Locke raised his head and glanced tentatively at Sherlock, his expression unchanged.

Or that he didn't have any expression when he whipped him.

"Of course." Sherlock nodded, "I understand, who in this world doesn't have secrets." ”

"If you give me back my stuff, I can tell you." Locke said.

"There's no need to rush." Sherlock smiled, he looked at the bruised wounds on his calves, some of which were even starting to ooze blood, "I have some potions for injuries here, would you like to give it a try?" ”

He walked to the kitchen on the side and picked up a glass bottle from the table, there was no packaging outside the bottle, a typical three-no product, which seemed to have been made by himself.

Locke's face changed a little badly, "No, thank you for your kindness, I think I'm still uh-ah-ah!!! ”

Sherlock poured the liquid directly onto Locke's wound.

Locke cried out in pain, the coffee in his hands scattered all over the floor, and his clothes and pants were wet.

"Does it hurt that much?" Sherlock said confusedly.

Still, he was ready to pour the potion on another wound.

"Wait, wait!" Locke shouted excitedly, "We suspect he made a deal with the demon!" ”

Sherlock stopped his movements, a look of interest on his face, "You mean, there's another person behind this serial suicide?" ”

Watson walked over, "Is the demon a code name?" ”

"You can understand it that way." Locke said.

"And one more!" Sherlock excitedly circled around the living room, muttering to himself as he whirled around, "A man behind the scenes, directing crimes, an absolute genius, a genius who takes pleasure in making crimes!" ”

He looked at Locke and said excitedly, "You're tracking him, right, how much do you know about him?" ”

It can be seen from the agility of Locke's previous jumping from roof to rooftop that this man is not simple, maybe he is really a member of some secret organization, which is why Sherlock feels that what he says has credibility.

At the same time, he can tell from a person's micro-expressions whether this person is lying or not, so there is no doubt that what this person said just now is indeed the truth.

Locke was still hesitating, Sherlock seemed to want to say something, Watson on one side said directly.

"Hey, Sherlock, things seem to be going wrong."

Sherlock frowned and looked at Watson, who was standing by the window at the moment, looking downstairs through the window.

Sherlock stepped forward and looked out the window as well, and downstairs they were a police car.

Soon, the door opened, and Gregerson, along with the same police officers he had seen at the scene of the crime, stepped out of the car.

Watson looked at Sherlock, "What to do?" (End of chapter)