Two days later. A patrol officer knocked on the door at 221B Baker Street.

The patrolman was in a nervous state of mind, and in the past two months, Sherlock had not walked into Scotland Yard with his suitcase, nor had he called the operator, nor had a criminal suddenly disappeared and half of his thigh was fished out of the Thames the next day.

According to the report of the Baker Street Police, the newspaper at the door of No. 221B is piled high, and it can be seen that Sherlock should not have been home for a long time, he may have left London, or something happened, or even simply died.

Anyway, during this time, the whole of Scotland Yard was bathed in a festive and peaceful atmosphere.

However, just this morning, Director Lestrade gave himself a task that reads. Come and deliver a letter to Sherlock, and it must be delivered to the other party in person

Send! Counterpart! In hand!

What do you mean? Is the detective named Sherlock back? He's alive? Wasn't he swallowed by some demon that suddenly came out of nowhere?

Well, it looks like he's really coming back, because according to the Baker Street policeman, all the newspapers at Gate 221B were brought into the house yesterday.

So why not call????

Forehead. It seems that because the other party has not paid the phone bill for more than a month, it has been shut down.

"!!"

The policeman licked his lips that were dry because of nervousness, and secretly scolded the director for sending himself?

"Knock~Knock~Knock~"

He knocked a few more times, and the wooden door made a dull sound, as if each knock had hit his heart.

Immediately after, there was a creak, and the door was opened!

But the patrolman was suddenly stunned, because it was not Sherlock who opened the door, but a very beautiful man.

The patrolman blinked, stared at the other party's face, and after a while:

"Haha————"

He smiled happily, then exhaled a long sigh of relief.

"Hello, what's the matter?" Watson asked politely.

"Haha, it's fine." The patrolman was still happy, as if he had just escaped a disaster, and it seemed that the director had received the wrong information, Sherlock had not returned, and the room should have been rented to someone else.

"You seemed nervous just now."

"yes." The patrolman nodded, anyway, it wasn't Sherlock who opened the door, he looked up at the sky, and felt that this should be some kind of gift from the Holy Light, so he decided to do something good, and leaned into Watson's ear: "I'll tell you, the people who lived in this room before were very evil, if I were a man, I would move out quickly and rent another place." ”

"Oh?" Watson raised his eyebrows, and seemed to be interested: "Evil? ”

"Yes, the person who lived here before was a pervert, that person used the identity of a detective to hide himself, but in fact he was a murderer, I heard from my colleague that he would cut off people's heads, put them next to pillows, and cuddle them to sleep every night."

He was like the kind of gossip old lady in the almshouse, and finally found a channel to confide, and began to talk bitterly with Watson, and in his concept, this is undoubtedly the tenant in front of him, after all, this is where Sherlock once lived, who knows if there will be a long row of dead bodies in the surrounding walls.

But at this moment

There was a "creak", and the sound of the door being pushed open, but it came from the patrolman's diagonal top.

His body stiffened, as if he suddenly remembered something.

The first and second floors of No. 221B are stacked, so does the detective live on the first floor or the second floor?

He didn't have time to remember, because in the next second, there was a sound of footsteps coming down from the upper floor, and at the same time, he heard a voice.

In fact, he had only heard this voice from afar a few times, but unfortunately remembered it very clearly.

"Who are you looking for?"

The patrolman only felt the muscles in his calf twitch slightly.

"Oh, this Mr. Constable said he was looking for you." Watson saw that the other party did not answer, so he replied very intimately.

"Looking for me?" Sherlock had already walked in front of the patrolman, and the somewhat gloomy face appeared in the other party's sight, as if he had just experienced a hangover, so the dark circles under his eyes were a little heavy, and he frowned and looked the other party up and down: "What are you looking for me?" ”

"Send. Send a letter," the patrolman swallowed.

Then he quickly took out a letter from his pocket and handed it to Sherlock in front of him.

He felt that he had behaved well because he controlled his slightly trembling hands

"I heard that you like to sleep with people's heads in your arms at night?" Watson asked suddenly.

"Huh? Says who? ”

Watson didn't answer, but his eyes seemed to glance at the patrol officer in front of him.

At this second, the patrol brother in front of him suddenly turned around on the spot, and then regardless of traffic safety, he crossed the road directly with a whoosh, and plunged into the opposite alley at a speed of a 100-meter sprint, and disappeared directly.

“.” Sherlock looked down the alley and muttered, "What." ”

Then he opened the letter in his hand.

Sure enough, it was written by Hopkins, because he was very busy in the factory and couldn't get out, so he could only contact the police to help him convey it, as Sherlock said before.

But I don't know why, every time the name Sherlock is mentioned, the call is inexplicably dropped, and finally I have to contact the director of Scotland Yard.

"Ready over there?" Watson asked.

"Well, the letter said that the personnel have arrived, and the required equipment has been arranged, and a third-order great demon has also been transported, and it just arrived this morning, that is, the test of the soul visual device can start at any time now.

However, the letter also mentions some minor troubles. ”

With that, Sherlock handed the letter to Watson.

After taking the letter, Watson also read it quickly, and couldn't help but smile helplessly.

The trouble mentioned in the letter is not too big, but it is not small either.

It's just that those who have been deployed seem to be a little resentful. Because according to the requirements of the deployment, they can't leave the factory at will before the Imperial Inheritance Ceremony, and they must devote themselves to this work.

It took more than two months.

And almost everyone felt that it was impossible to do.

It's not that they don't believe in the reality of the wild demon's manipulation experiments, in fact, all the people who have been deployed are all loyal fans of Professor Darwin!

And not because they complained that they couldn't go home for two whole months.

Rather, they felt that Professor Darwin's own experiments, which had taken him more than two years to complete, were now being shown in two months.

Isn't that?

Nine times out of ten, the person who makes this kind of decision is a fool

(End of chapter)