Sherlock Holmes

When a person is wanted by the government, it is an ultimatum that the huge imperial machine is about to kill someone.

Countless people have said that it is impossible for one person to fight against the entire empire.

However, if we suddenly reconcile with that person at this juncture, wouldn't it mean that the empire has lost, surrendered, and can no longer hold on?

What a terrible thing.

And the even scarier thing is that no one knows where that person is, and it is naturally impossible to talk to him about the settlement agreement.

Do we need to issue an announcement to the entire empire, asking that person to come out quickly?

If this is the case, wouldn't the empire be the same as trash in people's minds?

This will cause a riot! ! !

Well, here's the problem now. If there is no reconciliation, the march will not end. If there is reconciliation, riots may occur.

Oh, no, the current imperial officials are still struggling with how to find Sherlock quietly, and are still considering how to minimize the damage after reconciliation.

What a arrogant idea.

They have been in high positions for so long that they have forgotten to think about the most critical issue, which is whether the other party is willing to reconcile.

On the streets of London, the figure wearing a long trench coat sat on a bench, with a pair of narrow glasses staring at the church across the street with interest in the small gap left between the collar and the hat.

He looked at the time, stood up, and walked towards the church.

"According to my personality test on the target, he doesn't like money, doesn't care about glory, doesn't like beauties, and doesn't like power, damn it!" The psychology professor in the wanted group No. 221B has already collected a report on Sherlock's personality. weeks, trying to find a hole in his heart.

People should always have some material needs.

But Sherlock seems to be very indifferent to material things, and he doesn't even care much about honor and social status.

People with strong abilities often have huge ambitions. After all, abilities and demands must match.

But the target doesn't seem to care at all about living in lower London forever as a little detective who doesn't even have a serious license!

"Maybe for him, these things are readily available, so of course he doesn't care." A member of the psychology research team on the side quietly gave an explanation.

With a bang, the professor slapped the document in his hand on the table. He who had been studying psychology could not control his emotions at this moment:

"I don't care about the reason. You still don't understand what I'm worried about. According to my inference, there is nothing the empire can offer to make the target agree to reconciliation.

Do you understand?

Target will not reconcile! What's even more frightening is that the target is a small-minded person. He is an absolutely arrogant person who only does things according to his inner likes and dislikes. He once abdicated the throne because he was dissatisfied with Emperor Augustine without being tried, and rushed into the imperial capital to assassinate the emperor! "

Having said this, the psychology professor took a deep breath, stared and said:

"And in the past few months, we have been thinking about how to kill each other every day. You say, will the target be happy?"

The words have not yet fallen

Bang.

A large splash of blood suddenly splashed on the face of the psychology professor. Before he could close his mouth tightly, warm and sticky brain matter rushed into his mouth and stuck to his throat. It tasted like a lump. A mixture of lime and fat meat, with some gun smoke mixed in.

Right in front of his eyes, the head of the team member who had just been talking to him had been blown into half by a gunshot. The broken skull fragments and half of the gums exposed to the air were trembling due to the concussion, and there was blood. Gurgling gurgling spurts from the arteries on both sides of the neck.

People were dumbfounded and instinctively turned towards the place where the gunfire came from. Then they saw a thin figure standing under the stained glass, holding a gun that was emitting smoke in his hand.

That's Sherlock.

No one knew where this guy sneaked in. The soldiers patrolling in the church aisle heard the gunshots and rushed in immediately. However, several tentacles appeared out of thin air and accurately poked into the eye sockets of several guards. The soldier who opened the door didn't have time to raise his gun. There were a few more crisp gunshots, a few flowers of blood exploded, and the body fell down with a groan.

Methods such as sliding doors and picking locks are simply essential skills for a detective. The ability to track and conceal is naturally a required course. Under the strict militarized defense of the ancient Roman city, Sherlock can do it. Entering the emperor's official residence, let alone London, the city where he had stayed for decades.

If someone tries to kill me, then of course I have to be prepared to be killed.

It is a hard truth to kill someone to pay for your life. If you can't kill others, that's because you are incompetent. You still have to pay for the life you deserve.

So after a few minutes, thick smoke billowed out of the church, and then became more intense. The flames spread over the wooden tables and chairs, ignited the white curtain embroidered with sunflowers on the dome, and swept away the dead grass in the courtyard. The high temperature burned the stained glass into darkness. People on the street watched the raging flames rushing out from the top of the church. They screamed in panic, called the police, and became a mess.

‘Ling~Ling~Ling~’

In a special train belonging to the Holy See that was running, the communication phone rang.

The chief judge of the trial court slowly picked up the phone.

Ever since the prisoner hijacking incident in London's Victory Square, the entire atmosphere of the empire has been deteriorating day by day. As the highest official in the judiciary, he has to wander among various troubling incidents, and Natong has been captured by the entire empire. The call, which everyone knew, also made it almost impossible for him to appear in front of the public.

"It's not bad. The church was burned down. The fire was very strong. I don't know how the people inside are doing!"

The voice on the other end of the phone was extremely anxious. Your Honor took a deep breath, not angry or shocked.

This is a war between the empire and that person. As he once said, there is no war without death, so a long time ago, he guessed that one day, the wanted team would suffer the most brutal attack. revenge.

In fact, there is no need to think too much. Everyone in that church must be dead. People like Sherlock are not people who can compromise. Since they can't compromise, there is no reason to stay alive.

I just don’t know when I will be hit.

"Okay, I understand." The judge said calmly and hung up the phone.

Looking out the window at the night, the old man who had been exposed to countless complex cases in his life seemed to have some special ability to perceive death. He knew that somewhere invisible to him, that person was looking at him.

Sherlock was indeed looking at the judge, his eyes following the speeding train as if falling from the sky.

A void crack appeared in a remote urban area somewhere, on the rooftop of a building. However, no cute and ignorant little devil emerged from the crack. Instead, a patent leather red sofa chair crashed out. It hit the top of the building with extremely terrifying speed, raising violent dust, but strangely did not make any sound.

Sherlock stood up slowly, then jumped off the top of the building.

Some young people gathered in abandoned buildings and took out boxes of beer from the car. They were all snatched from convenience stores on the street. On the edge of such chaos, the police had no energy to control theft and robbery. Such little things.

Some people in the parade were releasing their anger after learning the truth, and some were releasing their absurd joy. Men and women wore revealing clothes, ignoring the cold night wind, and wantonly enjoyed the effects of alcohol and hallucinogens. Excited to come, hugging, excited, screaming.

Sherlock crossed the pale headlights, knocked out a man with exposed tattoos, broke the safety lock on the car door, and then drove towards the highway.

He drove across the highway, smashed through the guardrail, bumped among rocks, and then drove into the fields, weaving through dense masses of dry crops.

Only he knows where he is going.

After 20 minutes, the car finally drove out of the field, and a row of railways appeared in front of them. No one knew how Sherlock calculated it. Anyway, like a prophet, he happened to be in time for the speeding train to arrive. one minute before.

The quiet railway track began to tremble, and the huge train in the distance pushed away the howling wind and made a unique roar. The huge searchlight appeared in the night, crushing the darkness with force, illuminating everything into a black and white photo. Sherlock began to run towards the train. At the intersection between a man's dark figure and the huge running beast, the tiny figure jumped up and faced the airflow of the carriage at high speed. With a click, his strong fingers Embedded in the iron sheet of the carriage, and completely ignoring the huge counter force generated by the relative speed, it climbed up in an instant and landed lightly on top of the train carriage.

"呲————"

The door between the carriages was opened.

A thin man walked in, then walked slowly to the seat opposite the judge of the trial court, and sat down calmly.

"Hello, your honor, this is the first time we meet. I am Sherlock Holmes."