"Squeak~Squeak~Squeak~"

The bones were crushed in the mouth, and then chewed carefully, and some blood flowed between the teeth, forming a cruel contrast between the pale teeth and the dark and shiny skin.

A contract creature that chewed its summoner alive?

The people outside the training ground had no idea what was going on behind the towering green belts, some horse-drawn carriages walking through the streets, dripping cars and pedestrians only a few dozen meters away from the bloody scene.

But they were lucky not to see that scene, and they would not have realized how much fear it caused to those who witnessed it, and even weeks later, they would still wake up from their dreams and sweat profusely.

Finally, after an unknown amount of time, the chewing sound stopped, and the lanky giant licked the flesh between his teeth with a sigh of relief, and then crawled back into the void crack on his own.

It was only then that someone finally came to their senses, and the people of White Thorns rushed into the ground, gathered around Sherlock, and Watson felt his pulse, incredibly confirming that this extremely weak man was still alive, and that the excited and sickly smile on his face seemed to have finally been released, and seemed happy and content.

As for the Executive. He died, in front of everyone's eyes, and he died clearly.

He died from the backlash of the contract creatures and was eaten by his own contract creatures

Although this situation is very strange, although that Executor-sama is already a powerful person who has reached the peak of the second order, and although he is a strong person of the control type, it is absolutely impossible for him to be unable to control his contract demon.

But as the Holy See said in its promulgation of the Risk Agreement.

Anything can happen.

Moreover, the risk agreement for this test has been signed, and the casualties and losses caused in the test have nothing to do with the other party, and more than a dozen family members have personally sworn an oath and sworn that it has been sent to the court.

So, the death of the executive officer of Ivnovich is death, no matter how bizarre and bizarre, that is, death.

It's like when some investigators came to White Thorn afterwards and recounted the death, Mark from the field team spread his hands and said:

'As soon as we met, I was chewed by my own contract creatures, what is there to say? ”

This sudden, even more abrupt end of the superior censorship came to an abrupt end, as if to avoid making too much of a disturbance and angering His Highness the Holy Son, so the Adjudication Division did not send anyone else to London.

The whole world seems to be a lot cleaner all at once, except for the more and more frequent fireworks blooming over the Thames, and more and more kisses being staged in the streets.

The door to the St. Derion's Mission Hospital was pushed open, and Watson took some fruit to the innermost room on the second floor, and sat down at Sherlock's bed.

Since the end of that training test a few days ago, Sherlock's image has changed significantly in the eyes of the entire White Thorn Security Company.

It can even be said that . He was seen as a hero.

Because the executive of Ivnovich died, died within the rules and regulations, and the White Thorn did not bear any duties of the Holy See, and the resentment in everyone's hearts was released most freely with the most direct death, whether it was the pension or the appropriation for this year, all of them would be paid a penny.

Although all this was just because of a strange accident, for some reason, everyone just felt that this credit should be given to Sherlock, because in the midst of the heavy snow, a novice who had only been a contractor for three months really caused damage and the most unforgettable humiliation to a powerful executive.

Even the shock of that moment had not dissipated until this moment, and Ms. Mary felt these days that the charm of the detective who did not go to work sometimes seemed to be not much worse than that of Dr. Watson.

It would be nice if he could get his hair in shape from time to time

And what about Watson

Before going to bed these days, he always recalls the situation at that moment over and over again, and he really feels extremely happy, and at the same time, there are some ridiculous and weird feelings. It can't be Sherlock's work, right?!

"So what are you doing today?" He looked at the guy on the bed who was staring at the ceiling in a daze, and asked suspiciously.

"Feel the rotation of this planet," Sherlock replied without blinking.

Watson sighed, ignored the other party, took out an apple and carefully peeled it, cut it into pieces, and then ate it to himself.

These days, Sherlock is always in a daze from time to time, asking him what he is doing, and he will give some strange answers.

For example: "Recall how your brain adapts to the force between your leg muscles when you first know how to climb." ”

This kind of answer is undoubtedly a perfunctory participality, after all, it is impossible for humans to retain the memories of infancy, and today 'feeling the rotation of the planet' is even more of a disgusting joke.

Watson didn't care about that, though, and it would be scary if Sherlock started to show some flattering attributes.

He finished eating the apples, picked up a few examination reports on the bedside table, looked at them, and then, in the manner of a medical worker, said to the guy on the bed:

"Your report should be wrong, remember to react to the hospital in the afternoon and test again."

"Huh? Wrong again? Sherlock looked a little impatient.

The St. Delian Mission Hospital is a special medical institution set up by the Holy See, which is only open to certain groups of people, and Sherlock is also admitted to the White Thorn Security Company, and the medical facilities here are very comprehensive, and the examination is naturally extremely detailed.

Yesterday, in order to check if this guy's brain was stupid during the test, the hospital conducted a series of reaction tests for him.

The result is an instantaneous reaction time, 0.03 seconds.

The answer is definitely questionable, as a fly's cilia gives only 0.15 seconds of reaction time when it senses changes in air flow.

It is the bargaining chip that a fragile creature can reproduce in this world, and it has evolved over millions of years to carry its life.

A human being. There could never have been such a reaction.

Putting the report card back on the bedside, Watson looked at Sherlock, who was as good as the aristocratic lord on the bed, very depressed, White Thorn was busy submitting information these days because of the death of an executive officer, but he was idle here like a nobody.

"Anyway, what kind of values are normal?" Sherlock asked suddenly.

"As far as I know, an ordinary person's reaction should be about 0.4 seconds, and a trained soldier's reaction time is almost 0.2 seconds, because people's reactions are very complex, and the brain needs to be transmitted to the muscles through nerves, and then make feedback, and the contractor can't improve this attribute, there may be some drugs that can work on the side of the Life Science Institute, but the side effects must be very large, in short, there is no room for improvement."

Sherlock listened to Watson's introduction and nodded, he found that he had deliberately suppressed the speed of his reaction, but it was still a little too fast.

"By the way, has the date of Divine Love been determined?" He asked suddenly.

Watson was slightly stunned: "In the newspaper two days ago, the government issued a notice that the Day of Holy Love will officially start tomorrow, and all citizens of the empire will enjoy a full day of vacation. ”

As he spoke, he looked at Sherlock suspiciously: "Haven't you always cared much about this holiday, why did you suddenly ask?" ”

Sherlock sighed:

"Although I said before that I don't want to dig up other people's little secrets, but it's really boring to lie in bed these days, so I figured out a little why my landlady had to kick me out.

I really didn't mean to, I really just scratched it a bit.

And then"

Speaking of this, Sherlock turned his head and looked at Watson with a complicated expression:

"I know it sounds incredible, but, Mrs. Hudson, it's supposed to be a saint."

Looking at Watson's expression, he was stunned for a moment, and then looked at himself with a look of 'joking', his mouth opened and closed, and he didn't break out a word for a long time.

He knew that Watson must have been blinded

In fact, Sherlock was a little surprised when he thought of this possibility.

But immediately after that, he thought of the bespectacled little man, and then a lot of information in his mind began to subconsciously converge, the time of appearance, the place of appearance, and the maid next to him, and the villa where he lived Anyway, he reluctantly came up with a more absurd possibility.

It's like he said before

"Now the three vulgarities on the last page of the third-rate tabloid don't dare to write like this"

(End of chapter)