Dusk in London began at half-past three, and as the clouds accumulated water vapor, the gray sunlight passed through the mirrors and was dyed a vivid crimson, and the church bells in the distance gradually stopped, and the day's service was over.

In the office, the old priest sat with his eyes closed, his sparse hair writhing strangely and imperceptibly like the feet and limbs of insects......

Director Lestrade leaned slightly, and whispered in doubt: "Miss Catherine, do you know that detective?" ”

"I don't know."

"Yes...... But you seem to be very unhappy with him. ”

Catherine recalled the hateful face in the elevator and said coldly: "A clergyman's family has been murdered!" What we need now is the toughest, most professional elite, who can solve the entire case with only one person, find out the murderer, and make the murderer's blood stain the court's proclamation before sunset tomorrow!

And you, just found me such a lazy, shameless, confused scumbag who smoked hallucinogens all day long? ”

Director Lestrade looked at the other party in amazement, surprised by his evaluation of Sherlock, and ...... It's really accurate;

"But noble Miss Catherine, I dare assure you, in my title of the highest police officer in Scotland Yard, that he is the only one who can meet your requirements in all of London."

He cautiously retorted that as the top head of the London police system, he had almost instinctively displayed a stubborn and proud side in his own field, completely forgetting that he had not even mentioned the name Sherlock just half an hour before.

......

After Lestrade left, the old priest slowly opened his eyes.

He seemed to enjoy the meditation with his eyes closed, and the crimson sunset shone on the side of his robe...... Suddenly, right there, a pitch-black crack appeared out of thin air, and a huge spider covered in fluff crawled out silently.

It was the size of a wheelbarrow, and its eight eyes were like eight pitch-black beans, glowing with a terrible glow in the setting sun.

The old priest stretched out his hand and rubbed it dotingly on the fluff of its belly, leading it to let out a disgusting hissing sound:

"Lestrade has worked in the police system all his life, and during the second demonic invasion, he was in charge of the law and order of the lower town by himself, and he reduced the civilian crime rate there to the satisfaction of the church, so he should not be too discerning......

"I just think that such a lazy person can't see anything outstanding at all."

The corner of the old priest's lips flashed with a more interested smile: "I went to the underground cell just now, and the detective caught a murderer today, and used it to receive a reward, and he took the criminal ...... Stuffed into a box. ”

"Box ...... In the box? Catherine frowned and wondered.

"Haha, that's right, a suitcase." The old priest smiled and gestured a shape in front of him: "I have never seen a person who has been distorted like that can still live, even if it is a group of madmen from the School of Life Studies, it takes a lot of equipment to do it.

Moreover, the murderer who was caught was not a simple character, the bounty had reached 200 pounds, and I heard that it only took him two or three days to arrest him...... He was caught red-handed at the time of his murder.

For a mortal to be able to do this, it is already extremely remarkable. ”

Catherine smacked the old man's words, and after a while: "No matter how good you are, you are just a mortal after all." ”

There was a natural scorn in her tone.

This is not the disdain of the upper echelons for the low-level civilians, but a very reasonable and logical overlook, regardless of politics, character, money, or even social status.

It's more like the eagle's attitude towards the rabbit that comes from the life of the species.

After all, he is just a mortal......

Not a contractor......

And in this era when the power of the abyss affects everything, the Holy See has mastered the method of controlling the power of the abyss with the human body a century ago...... Therefore, an ordinary human being will naturally be questioned by some abilities.

Fortunately, the old man's words were convincing, and Catherine's face was still cold, after all...... Still nodded.

......

In the lounge, Sherlock leaned back on the couch and fell asleep.

He had a book in his hand.

"How to save yourself when you encounter a small demon in the wild"

The author is a guy named Bear Grylls.

The cover of the cheapest cardboard, with a picture of a common Cerberus in front of a beautiful lady in a dress, vomiting an acidic liquid, was coarsely painted, and the paint was a little stained when printed.

This kind of self-help book was very popular at a certain time in the past, after all, no one knows where the void crack will appear, in case you are, you find that the space in front of you is cracked, and a disgusting giant fly comes out and wants to suck your brain marrow, then read more of these books, maybe it will give you a better chance of survival.

But after more than ten years of market verification, everyone gradually found that this kind of book is completely useless, because when encountering Void Life, either you have a Lescott shotgun and enough bullets, or you run quickly.

As fast as you can, run to the contractor near you and ask for his help, or run to the nearest church, and that's it.

If you don't have anything, and you still want to use the knowledge in the book to fight with the other person, then you will definitely burp very happy. Once upon a time, the author of a self-help book, a sliding shovel sent himself into the newly cracked chest of a carrion.

Door-to-door, one-step to the stomach.

"Do you smoke?" A voice came.

Sherlock was in a trance, and raised his eyes that seemed to be sleeping, only to see Director Lestrade pinching a cigarette and handing it to him.

"No, I've got it here." Sherlock yawned invisibly, then pulled out a box of Blues cigarettes from his pocket.

"I still don't understand why you only smoke blues, it's such an old brand, it's not easy to buy, and it's so choking."

Sherlock lit his cigarette to himself, took a deep breath, and did not answer the question.

"You see, that's why you're not likeable. There's so much stuff about you that you can't figure out, and you never explain it. ”

Sherlock stared noncommittally: "Tell me something, don't beat around the bush." ”

"I've got you covered, homicide ......," the director said, pausing slightly, "I don't want to admit it, but ...... It's about the Holy See. ”

As he spoke, he kept looking at Sherlock's expression, thinking that after hearing the word "Holy See", the other party would at least be a little surprised, however, Sherlock only frowned slightly, and then returned to his sleepless appearance.

"Why didn't you react at all!?"

"Oh, that'...... Thank you very much. ”

This distracting tone made Director Lestrade very unhappy, and he angrily pressed out the cigarette butt:

"That's the second fucking thing I hate about you...... You are not at all religious to the Holy See!! ”