Miss Nightingale is the most beautiful person in the world.

I don't know who said this sentence [When the appearance reaches a certain level, the aesthetics will become highly unified], but this sentence has been perfectly reflected in Nightingale.

If there is a creator in this world, then the girl in front of her must be an irreproducible perfect work, it seems that all the descriptions, all the praises, all the feelings, can be used on her body, the eyes, the fingertips, the occasional silhouette between the waist, even the hair scattered on her shoulders, is almost a miracle of beauty, she doesn't even need a beautiful outfit to set off, and she doesn't need to pay attention to what color matching, even if she casually draped a burlap bag and curled her hair, A stick in the back of her head would be enough to distract anyone who saw her.

It's like a mathematical formula: no matter how much you add, ∞ still ∞.

So, Watson at this moment is completely stupid.

This doctor, who has witnessed the tragic death of his parents since he was a child, has countless souls under his hands, lacks his mind, knows no mercy, and does not even feel much touch when facing the imminent death, only feels a buzz in his mind the moment the girl appears.

Like the giant clock on the banks of the Thames rang thousands of times at the same time, almost shattering his thoughts, and ruthlessly stepping on his feet and crushing into the tiniest dregs, so that he had to use all his strength to support his body so as not to appear abrupt because he trembled too much.

Watson had never been so out of shape.

Since he retired early on the front line because of something, he likes to use those slightly squinted eyes to hide his true thoughts, and that delicate and noble face allows him to be calm and unhurried in the face of any woman, and can even use this face as some kind of weapon.

But when facing Nightingale, he was already stiff, desperately trying to tell himself to behave more naturally, and then say hello to the other party gentlemanly.

But the body is completely out of the control of the brain, and can only stand still, just look at it and admire it, as if you are facing the most gorgeous beauty in the world.

finally

"Haven't introduced me yet, who is this?"

Miss Nightingale asked, and at this moment Watson suddenly came to his senses, and found that he had sat down on the sofa in the room for some unknown time, and the girl in front of him was handing over a glass of water.

"Oh, this guy's name is John. Watson, my assistant, is a doctor. ”

Watson's heart was beating wildly, and he felt that it would be a bit rude if he didn't speak again, so he forced a smile and said his first words to the great Lord Nightingale:

"You're so beautiful"

As soon as he said that, he regretted it, what the fuck is this kind of opening statement.

However, Nightingale naturally responded with a refreshing and charming smile like a mountain flower:

"You too, Mr. Watson."

With just such a sentence, Watson seemed to be surrounded by the red and beautiful mountains on the top of the mountains, and was blown up by the wind from outside the sky, only feeling that he was flying, drunk, and confused, he finally decided that it was the most correct decision in his life to follow Sherlock.

Of course, this kind of pilgrimage-like meeting only existed in Watson's eyes, and in Sherlock's view, this visit was mainly about the case of the Ripper.

After a short flashback, he learns that the Ripper's announcement of Miss Nightingale's murder was 16 days later.

And more than half a month in advance, he began to deploy such a large number of troops, which is enough to see that the government attaches absolutely importance to this girl.

It is worth mentioning here that during this half a month, it is definitely impossible for Sherlock to really eat, drink and sleep in this villa, because the Ripper has already appeared in several murder lists, so if the Ripper can be captured during this period, it will naturally be the best result.

At six o'clock that night, Hopkins and Judge Natasha finally arrived.

As night fell, in a study on the first floor of the villa, several people sat around the table, and a pile of materials was placed in front of them.

"Here's a list of three people who have appeared, all in London." Hopkins mused, and he could feel that he had been working hard during this time: "A pope, a banker, and a famous musical actor. ”

Sherlock hastily flipped through the list in his hand': "I wonder if that ripper can really murder people under any circumstances?" ”

Hopkins lowered his head slightly: "Although I don't want to admit it, it seems that this is really the case."

For example, we were escorting a man who was about to be murdered, trying to move him to a hidden place.

On the steam train, the man was surrounded by six heavily armed soldiers from the military, and I was there at the time, sitting across from him.

Then, we passed a lake, and the sun shone on the lake, reflected through the car window, and my eyes were shaken.

And then again.

And the man died.

Got my throat cut."

Hopkins swallowed, seeming uncomfortable from this memory:

"So can you imagine that in an instant, in less than a second, I was sitting in front of the dead.

But I could only watch as the other person clutched his throat and collapsed. ”

Sherlock nodded, and instead of acting alarmed at the bizarre murder, he nodded with interest.

"So, you haven't even found a clue about each other for a while, have you?"

"It's not that I didn't find it, but I couldn't find it at all." Gregerson finally interjected at this time: "You should know that I am not the kind of person who is good at reasoning and finding the murderer through modus operandi, I am used to searching for evidence along the greatest possible way, and then I will continue to investigate a clue."

But I can't look into these cases.

For example, if someone kills someone in London, and then the next day in Dickley, I'm going to sift through all the tickets and airship passengers from that time one by one.

But if a man crosses three parishes in five minutes and kills two poor worms in the same way, I really don't know where to start. ”

Gregerson took a hard puff of the large cigar he was holding in his hand, and his thick body was full of helplessness.

Only Sherlock was still smiling, and there was even a hint of satisfaction in his smile.

"There's no need to be so uncomfortable, sometimes you don't have to use 'check' for such a thing."

As he spoke, he shook the list of the three people who were about to be murdered:

"Tomorrow, take me to meet these three people."

After hearing this, Hopkins was a little pleased: "Heh, I didn't expect to see you for a few months, but your personality is much better, why, do you want to personally supervise the guard work of these three people?" ”

"Of course not." Sherlock responded, "I'm only protecting Miss Nightingale, and as for those three, I think that since they're going to die, don't die in vain, you have to do something with their corpses." ”

(End of chapter)