Where Sherlock lived, the people of Scotland Yard knew that he had just moved from 314A to 221B, and the police on that street didn't have to be changed.

The next day, the entire Metropolitan Police Department knew about it.

They didn't know why they cared so much about Sherlock's quarters, but they felt a little more secure that way.

So, when the operator heard the trafficker on the other end of the phone reveal the address, he knew that this was not his own business.

Although he called the police, although it is now a society under the rule of law, although he should have prevented the next thing from happening, he is not ready to do it.

Even if it is reported to Director Lestrade, the director will praise himself

A man who tied up Sherlock's landlord and trampled his cat to death. Maybe it's the landlord's cat, but anyway, the guy is finished.

No one cares how he's going to end up, and no one wants to know how he's done, as the saying goes, when a storm comes, just run as far as possible.

The night went by.

As always, the sun shone across the vast expanse of half the empire, passing through the misty city of London, where a handful of light passed over Crawford's cash flow company and illuminated the blood that oozed from beneath the gates.

After a few hours of freezing, the blood was like a crystal clear red gem, and it was dotted with some white ice crystals, and the people walked by a few in the morning, not even realizing what it meant, only feeling a little beautiful, until a pet dog barked at the door, which attracted the attention of the owner.

Curiosity prompted the man to push the door open, and the horrific sight in front of him came into view, followed by the screams of anticipation, as is the case in almost all homicides.

Merely. There were a lot of people who died this time.

And the next thing. As with all previous homicides, the police came to deal with the scene, the body bags were thrown into the body truck one by one, the people outside the cordon pointed and pointed, and some tabloid reporters desperately tried to sneak in and take a few pictures.

But the police collectively chose to remain silent.

Silently rinsing the bloodstains, silently carrying the corpse, and even the white lines around the corpse were silent, some people couldn't help it, rushed out of the basement, leaned against the wall and vomited, not caring at all about destroying the crime scene, and continued to go back to work in silence after vomiting.

They know that these people should be damned, and that from those inferior ethers, the people who fall asleep in the boxes, and the shipping lines show that.

The director's performance this year is expected to rise to another level.

As for who caused this massacre.

Some people know, some don't.

What does it matter?

On the first floor of Building 221B Baker Street, Sherlock pulled the curtains open to let sunlight into the room

Behind him, Watson was fiddling with the vase on the dining table with a frown.

After bringing the landlady back, he couldn't stand the messy room, so he began to clean up, put away all the broken plates, set the tables, chairs and benches that had been knocked over, cleaned the carpets, and wiped the room up and down with a feather duster, and finally took off Mrs. Hudson's apron and folded it on the edge of the storage shelf.

Now. He was about to make a vase on the table look better, and he moved it from the windowsill to the door, and put it back on the table.

"I said. Do you have obsessive-compulsive disorder? Sherlock said weakly.

"It's not beautiful. It's obviously not pretty. Watson looked a little anxious: "Can't you use your reasoning skills?" Help me find out where this vase should be? ”

"My reasoning skills tell me it can't do this." Sherlock said, then looked at Mrs. Hudson, who was lying on the bed and had not yet woken up, and according to Watson, she should have woken up soon.

Just thought of this

"Forehead ———" There was a painful whisper, and the girl's eyelashes trembled a few times, and then she opened her eyes with great difficulty.

Sherlock walked over.

Watson reluctantly took his eyes off the vase and followed.

At this time, Mrs. Hudson was still very weak, her consciousness seemed to be still stuck in the time period when she was kidnapped, so her eyes were still full of horror, but when she opened her eyes, she saw that she was lying on the familiar bed, and she saw Sherlock standing beside the bed, and her breathing gradually calmed down.

"You saved me?" She asked, her voice extremely hoarse.

At this moment, Watson happened to come over, probably thinking that if the hero saves the beauty comes out of the mouth of the person, it will change his taste, so he took the initiative to take over the topic:

"yes, your tenant saved you."

As he spoke, he helped Mrs. Hudson into a semi-reclining position, placed a thick cushion behind her, and then poured a cup of brewed black tea and handed it over: "You must wonder how a little man like him can save you from a group of debt collectors."

Because you're lucky enough.

It seems that the debt company has angered some big man, and last night, someone surrounded and suppressed him. ”

"Encirclement?

"yes, I don't know what the newspapers are going to say, but you can't expect this guy to burst into someone's base camp alone, slaughter everyone inside, and then rescue you."

Watson smiled and said:

"Anyway, the siege is over soon, and those fierce guys. Obviously, I don't want to deal with you civilians who have been kidnapped, so I simply left you where you are, and your tenant Mr. rushed over and hugged you out at that time, and hugged you with a princess, oh, he really cares about you. ”

Watson hastily adapted Sherlock's slaughter of three floors last night into another version. In fact, this series of explanations is really a bit abrupt and trying to cover up the meaning, and some places are very problematic when you hear it, but after Watson's mouth, it seems to become extremely natural.

Under normal circumstances, when a woman hears this, she should almost start to panic, worry, or pull her hair and cry.

But Mrs. Hudson was different, although she was also extremely panicked, but she tried very hard to calm herself, and sincerely began to thank the two people in front of her.

She also knew that although it was quite simple, the process must be extremely difficult.

After all, his tenant is just a small detective, and he probably doesn't have much business, and it is not easy for him to know where he was kidnapped, and he can still save himself in that situation, which is how much courage it takes for an ordinary person.

Even at this moment, she was lying on the bed, looking at the tenant in front of her who she hadn't known for a long time, and a small throbbing called 'sense of security' sprouted in her heart for a long time.

Since her father lost consciousness and her younger brother went to the distant battlefield, she has never hoped for this state of mind again.

"Thank you. Thank you and I'll repay you, but now I don't know what to do, thank you so much" She was a little flustered by her gratitude: "Oh, I should go and make you something to eat, maybe that's the only thing I can do now"

Sherlock couldn't figure out what Watson's attributes were, he could convert a room into a torture room, and at the same time he was so good at taking care of people, and when he saw Mrs. Hudson trying to get up, he handed over a plate of peeled and cut apples.

"Beautiful lady, just thank your tenant, don't thank me, I was just pulled over by him to take care of you unconscious, now that you are awake and my task is completed, then don't bother."

With that, he got up and prepared to leave.

"But."

"You don't have to leave me to eat." Watson showed an extremely charming smile: "Mr. Sherlock has already paid, two toys with strong vitality, so see you next time, I hope you are getting more and more beautiful." ”

And just like that, Watson left Mrs. Hudson's apartment.

He was in a good mood, tightened his scarf, and with a real smile on his lips, ready to find a carriage home on the side of the street.

However, in his heart, there was still a little worry about this friend, and he had been informed a few days ago that the Pope from Cleveland had arrived in London, and although until now, the arrival of the Pope had not caused them any trouble, but the crisis that had not arrived was the most worrying.

As soon as he thought of this, his heart suddenly moved, and he subconsciously looked towards the shadow of the alley across the street.

And yet there.

Nothing

(End of chapter)