[Zhongyingmei] Official Mascot

Chapter 32

Thomas dressed very low-key, but followed by three bodyguards.

Standing beside him was an older, middle-aged man with a gloomy expression, walking a step ahead with his hands behind his back.

Sherlock stared at that side through the crowd.

At first glance, this scene seems innocuous, but in fact it is very interesting.

Lu Lun walked beside the middle-aged man, but kept half a step behind. This man was clearly in the lead. Judging from his clothes, behavior and movements, this man should be his male elder.

The three bodyguards behind them are not far or close...

Wait, that doesn't seem to be a bodyguard either, Lu Lun is not an employer, they are not so much bodyguards as they are monitoring and controlling his every move.

These people walked across the street and entered a building on the side of the street.

Sherlock didn't look back.

After a while, they came out, and there was an extra piece of gauze on Lu Lun's forehead.

Oh.

The middle-aged man seemed to be holding back his anger, and walked faster than before, with more steps, but Lu Lun himself was much calmer than him, although his face was pale.

They gradually walked away before Sherlock looked away.

He suddenly said to Watson, "I want to take some pictures as a souvenir."

The waffle on Watson's fork fell straight down: "...what did you say?"

Sherlock always does his own way, he said so, stood up directly, picked up his phone and walked out.

"Hey! Wait!! Sherlock!"

Watson was in a hurry to chase him, so he quickly took out a few pens and papers from his pocket and threw them on the table, and hurriedly chased him.

Sherlock strode out, he quickly walked to the other side of the street, stood outside the three-story building, walked up the steps without hesitation and knocked on the door.

A young man opened the door, his face was suspiciously exposed through the crack of the door: "Who are you?"

Sherlock's expressionless face suddenly came alive, and he grinned enthusiastically and asked, "Hello! I'm a tourist here for the carnival, and I'm from London!"

He stretched out his hand to shake the young man's hand talking to himself, and Watson followed behind, wondering what the hell he was going to do again.

"Who is the owner of this building? I think it is so special, it is like this, I would like to ask your opinion to go to the top floor to take a picture of the night view here, I want to send the photo to my girlfriend, maybe next year We can do it again!"

The vigilance and suspicion on the man's face gradually dissipated. Looking at the two tourists dressed up, he naturally chose to wave his hand impatiently to refuse: "Sorry, this is a private residence."

Sherlock pleaded again and again: "Please! My girlfriend originally planned to come with me, and I even planned to propose to her here, but she is on a temporary business trip-I can pay for it, a hundred pounds ?How about it?"

He spoke earnestly, and directly took out a banknote from his pocket as if to stuff it into the man's arms.

Obviously, this is of course a private residence, and it is beautifully decorated, but this man is obviously not the owner of this place, and Sherlock can easily find proof that he is relatively poor financially.

Such a big-spending tourist is just a small favor.

The man was a little moved, he hesitated, and took his money.

"Come up with me."

He opened the door and let them both in.

This is a residence for an elderly person living alone, so the identity of this man is obviously a nurse or something.

This is an antique building, and it has a certain value. The interior decoration of the house is very simple, but it can be seen from some furniture that the owner is very rich.

Sherlock also keenly discovered that a special bird-shaped totem is everywhere.

Doorknobs, fireplaces, tapestries, frescoes...

There is also this mark on the gate, which is inconspicuous, but it is everywhere.

This inconspicuous sign, like a totem of an aristocratic family, is all over the house.

The nurse motioned them not to speak loudly, and quietly led them up to the top floor.

Sherlock looked all the way, and found that the door of a room on the second floor was closed tightly.

Although Watson was angry with him for making his own way, he still cooperated with him. He asked the nurse, "Don't we need to say hello to the master?"

The nurse said nervously: "No, Mr. Dollylands doesn't like to be disturbed by people, so you can leave after filming."

"of course."

Sherlock gave him a grateful smile and asked Watson to take a few quick pictures of him.

The top floor can indeed overlook the street, and even the sea level in the distance.

Sherlock and Watson left here calmly.

----------

Carnival is finally here.

The streets and alleys are full of various decorations.

The crowds on the street are already very lively, waving colorful small flags everywhere, long floats will parade through the whole town for a week, and there are various acrobatic performances.

Eggsy walked through the carnival crowd into the lobby of the hotel and saw Sherlock and Watson waiting there.

"Mr. Holmes?"

He walked in front of the two, only Watson stood up with a smile on his face and shook hands with him: "Hi, I'm John."

Sherlock stood up slowly: "It seems that your amnesia is cured?"

Eggsy was taken aback: "How do you know..."

Watson immediately said in a low voice: "He figured it out. Don't ask him any questions. You don't want to have anything to do with him."

Eggsy nodded: "Okay..."

He said: "Harry will be here soon, we'll wait for him at Beaker Road."

Watson was eager: "Okay, thank you."

They followed Eggsy out of the hotel with their thin luggage, and Sherlock suddenly asked, "Where are the two of them?"

Eggsy turned his head in confusion: "Who?"

"Those two superheroes."

Sherlock's tone was flat, but Eggsy immediately looked around nervously to make sure no one was paying attention.

Fortunately, it is so lively everywhere now that no one pays attention to them.

Watson reprimanded: "Don't say it—"

"Oh."

Sherlock responded perfunctorily, and asked again: "What about the two of them?"

Eggsy had learned the lesson, and gave up resistance: "They will come later...do you have anything to say?"

Sherlock's eyes flicked over the happy faces around him.

A three or four-year-old boy was held in his arms by his father, holding a trumpet in his hand, blowing it vigorously, looking very happy, with festive paints on his cheeks.

Sherlock's eyes were fixed on the familiar bird totem on the little boy's cheek for a long time, until the father walked by him holding him.

He withdrew his gaze: "I guess there is."