Dr. Franklin

In fact, not many people knew about this person until he decided to participate in the [Transposition Ceremony] a year later.

He is a distant relative of the Fieldy family and has the nobility of the Massachusetts Territory, but most of the nobility in the district does not have many reliable rewards, and he does not belong to any of the organizations under the papal see, which makes his life not so good.

Fortunately, this man doesn't seem to care too much about the luxurious life, he lost his parents since he was a child, and inherited a small manor alone, because he was obsessed with the marginal energy source of 'electricity' that could not be used on a large scale, he sold his manor very early, purchased a large number of experimental equipment, and then found a group of eccentric scientific maniacs to form an experimental team that seemed to be suffering from paranoia.

After that, they began a long experiment that lasted for more than a decade, during which they disappeared until last year, when they reappeared in the eyes of the people of the empire with a bizarre report of research and a set of seemingly real and feasible energy alternatives.

And this time, they are trying to challenge the greatest king of the Holy Calendar——— Augustine the Great!

Of course, an unappreciated last nobleman, who has been insisting on an unfavored energy replacement plan for decades, suddenly appeared in front of the world, and there was no propaganda behind it, and there was no organization behind it to build momentum, all kinds of factors, making this time the challenger look like an insignificant joke.

But Moriarty didn't care if their challenge was ridiculous, he was just desperately thinking about the old man's words.

Can a heart that has stopped beating for 430 seconds really be able to beat again?

Because of some kind of research by that guy named Franklin?

Because of electricity?

At that moment, at the other end of the glass of the emergency room, it seemed that a nurse ran in a panic, picked up the phone on the wall, and handed it to someone on the medical team.

Moriarty could clearly see what the man was saying into the phone, and then the man's eyes widened and seemed to be full of incredulity, but because of the soundproofing of the emergency room, he couldn't hear what was being said on the other side.

But he still faintly felt a certain hope, because he saw that the people in the emergency room began to get busy again! And the dead don't need to be busy anymore!

The men began to disassemble Moran's various instruments, the huge turbine equipment was pushed aside, and then several security personnel carried a portable energy tank, and then after some crude-looking modifications, and some wires were connected, and finally, a man pressed several pieces of iron against Moran's body.

The man was at a loss, he didn't even know what he was doing.

And the person holding the phone probably didn't know what he was doing, he just repeatedly confirmed to someone on the other end of the phone, and finally, he finally made up his mind and nodded.

A person turned on the switch of the portable energy tank and only heard a 'bang'.

Of course, Moriarty couldn't hear this, but he could clearly feel the sound of that moment from the picture in front of him, because Moran's body on the bed was shocked by a huge force and left the bed!

Then comes the second 'bang'!

The third time!

Moran's body was like being constantly beaten by a pair of invisible hands, constantly shaking and falling, the picture was extremely absurd and weird!

Finally, after an unknown number of bounces, a nurse seemed to have noticed something, and she couldn't believe that she approached the girl on the bed and touched her neck.

Then he looked up in shock and said something.

For a moment, everyone fell silent, and after a few seconds, Moriarty saw the excitement and shock in their eyes.

Two more days passed, and for the past two days, Sherlock had been lying in bed.

Nightingale seemed to have finally regained some strength yesterday afternoon, but instead of coming to Sherlock and trying to heal him, she hurried away with her maid, not knowing where she was going.

Sherlock's injuries could not heal in two days, and he still felt the pain in his body every day, but he didn't care about it at all.

Now all he cares about is what is in his head.

After all this time of probing, Sherlock still couldn't understand what those things were, but fortunately, he was sure that they were real and not that he was suffering from some kind of delusional disease.

Yesterday morning, when he was reading a newspaper about the crash of the Zeppelin, he suddenly had a history of the Zeppelin crash in his head.

From the launch of the first airship, to the development of the airship transportation industry, as well as the materials, construction, and load differences of various models of these aviation equipment, etc., all appeared in his mind, and finally, there were even textbooks and manuals for airship piloting in various eras.

In addition, when he recalled the strange reaction of the president of the London Medical Association that night, the president's name, academic resume, when he entered the medical system, when he got married, and so on, all appeared in his mind.

This kind of information is certainly not something he can make up on a whim, because all the information is tightly knit, and it also contains areas that he is not familiar with.

For example, when changing his dressing, he noticed the clothes worn by the dressing nurses, and soon, Sherlock's mind appeared in various styles of nurse uniforms, winter models, summer short-sleeved ones, long models with hats, and even those that were obviously too tight, with too large a chest collar, and at a glance he knew that they were not suitable for work and had other uses.

In short, it seems that you can know what you want.

But there are still a lot of things that can't be presented in your mind.

For example, he wanted to know who was responsible for this disaster. There was no reaction in my head; Sherlock wanted to know how many people had died in that disaster, and his mind was still blank; I wonder if the president of the medical association played a role in this disaster? Where is he now? Alive or dead? Didn't get a response either.

And he didn't understand some of the feedback, for example, when he asked himself, 'How long can I live?', he had a groundhog gnawing corn in his mind, and when he asked, 'Is this my second-stage ability?' The response was a blooming red wildflower.

Anyway, Sherlock just lay down, constantly doing all kinds of experiments on his brain, and getting used to the feeling of a large amount of information rushing into his mind, and so on, and so on, and never tired of it.

It wasn't until another day later, when he felt that his body seemed to have recovered, that he got out of bed, during which a very strict little nurse always forced Sherlock to lie back on the bed and continue to recuperate, and finally he didn't have a trick, he wrapped the vase in a towel and made an illusion that he was sleeping, and then sneaked out after dark.

In the courtyard of the hospital, he sat on a bench and watched the thick fog in the sky, but his mind was the bright stars through the layers of clouds, and he didn't know what he was thinking.

It went on like this for a long time, until he heard a sound of footsteps coming towards him, and then. A man sat down next to him.

Sherlock turned and looked at Miss Nightingale beside her.

"How do you know I'm here?"

"Many patients want to come out and walk around when they are in bed, and some people even want to come out to see the sky outside the ward before they die, which is not difficult to guess."

Sherlock nodded, he found that after the previous disaster and the past few days of getting along, he subconsciously forgot that the extremely beautiful girl in front of him was actually a doctor who was used to seeing life and death, although she had the ability to cure diseases, but she had witnessed much more death than herself.

"Good news, bad news, which do you want to hear first?" Nightingale said suddenly.

"Oh bad." Sherlock Road.

"I can't treat you anymore, I guess I'll have to drag this body for a few more days."

"What about the okay?"

Nightingale smiled, as if in this drowsy night, a piece of crystalline moonlight rippled:

"Moran survived."

"What?" Sherlock was taken aback. He had seen Moran and the mad demon, so in comparison of the abilities of the two, he felt that Moran should not be able to survive, not to mention that Miss Nightingale had no ability to heal the injuries of others a few days ago.

Nightingale seemed to know why Sherlock was surprised, so she looked at the night in the sky and said: "She is really the strongest woman I have ever met, I don't know what faith made her hold on for so long, but she persevered for three whole days under that kind of injury."

Eventually, though, she died.

In fact, it was only a short time to die. Or rather, her heart stopped beating for a moment.

Normally, she really shouldn't have woken up again, but His Highness the Holy Son thought of something and then. Moran's heart was beating again. I don't really understand the use of electricity, but it's really amazing. ”

As she spoke, a glimmer of hope flashed in her eyes, as if the girl felt that there must be a broader space to explore the path of medicine.

Sherlock looked at the beautiful girl beside him and felt that this was the heart that a healer should have. In contrast, the other doctor I know is more like some kind of irresponsible medical shame.

And at the thought of Watson, he frowned slightly.

Because in the past few days, he has also contacted Watson, but no one answered the phone at the other party's home; And the phone from the White Thorn Security Company doesn't seem to be working.

Although after that disaster, as the security administration of London, White Thorn must have been very busy, Sherlock still had a faint premonition.

Just thought of this!!

Suddenly, a picture flashed through his mind.

In the night, in an alley, a pair of white-gloved hands stretched out of the shadows, holding a scalpel in one hand, and covering the mouth of a person at the mouth of the alley with the other hand, and then the sharp blade easily inserted into the throat of the other party, and with a slight pick, the entire artery and the trachea were all opened, and the man struggled in horror, but did not make a sound, until finally he collapsed and was dragged into the shadow of the alley.

Immediately after, out of the alley came an elegantly dressed man, and under the gaslight, a slightly curly blonde hair cast a shadow on his beautiful face.

It's Watson.

He looked around, and after making sure that there was no one, he quickly disappeared around the corner, and after another minute or so, a group of people chased after him, who seemed to smell blood, rushed into the alley, and then rushed out angrily, following the footprints on the snow, and chased wildly in the direction Watson had left!

(End of chapter)