me and my vest

"Milk, thank you."

Watson chose a bucket of milk at the convenience store, took out his wallet and paid for it.

Fortunately, today, no one came to rob.

Dr. Watson happily touched the unused gun in his pocket, and felt the quality of life rarely.

That's right, Watson was already very satisfied that he didn't get robbed when he went shopping.

Perhaps the lower limit of human beings is lowered in this way.

He has successfully applied for a job as an intern at Gotham City Hospital—after all, Watson is a medical student who graduated from the University of London, so the detective also got him a University of London graduation certificate that is in line with the times. You can still find a job.

The last time Watson was successfully robbed, he lost his first month's salary - he had planned to use the money to treat his partner to a meal, but the detective went out for a few days after finding out.

When he came back, the probability of the doctor being robbed dropped significantly, but of course it still couldn't be reduced to zero.

Come on, this is Gotham.

Even the Hulk from the studio next door would be robbed on the road.

"Sherlock...?"

He just went out to buy some milk, and when he came back, he found his partner lying on the door, Dr. Watson was very puzzled.

"Watson?" Shi Lu put away the knife in his hand and looked up, "You're back!"

"What are you doing?" Watson squatted down and asked in a low voice. "Is anyone trying to pick the lock into our house?"

"What? No, no, no one has found out that we live here yet." The detective patted the ashes off his clothes and got up, "I was picking the lock, I forgot to bring the key."

"..." Watson stood up, took out his key and opened the door.

The detective immediately followed through the door, stepping on crumpled newspapers and a map of Gotham as soon as he entered.

"Watson, why is it so messy here?"

"I'd also like to know which person drank coffee non-stop yesterday, walked up and down the living room, stayed up all night and finally left such a pile of garbage to sleep in."

It's me, that's fine.

Unaffected by Watson's criticism, Shi Lu calmly walked across the waste paper in the living room, and then successfully collapsed on the sofa.

"I'm sorry, Watson," said the self-propelled case excavator listlessly. "I'll take care of this place."

"Let me clean it up." Watson kept the garbage just to remind the detective to pay attention to his body, and he had no intention of letting him clean it up. "What did you go out for?"

"A case. A mother whose child has disappeared."

"Abduction?"

"Basically, they use their children to do some shady things."

"So, how did you manage it?" Watson went into the kitchen, poured milk into the kettle to heat it, and then returned and sat down opposite the detective.

"I notified a policeman when I found the hideout."

"Police? Didn't you say the police here are less useful than the detectives at Scotland Yard?"

"There are always one or two who are upright, my friend." Shi Li said, "It was a person I met by chance, and I asked him to leave his phone number."

"So you also notified him of the case you solved a few days ago?"

"Yes."

The kettle beeped, and Watson got up to get two cups, "I don't quite understand, Sherlock, what are you trying to do here?"

"Consult the detective."

"A consulting detective working with the police?"

The milk was brought to the detectives.

"Emm times are different, Watson, and this city is so special, I think I should change my behavior."

"Watson, the policeman's name is James Gordon. I have investigated it. He is a very good man. If he can handle these cases according to the clues I provided, he should be able to become the police station of Gotham soon. Director."

"And you're going to be a consulting detective in the police?"

"Why not? I need work, I need problems, I need something to analyze!"

"That's not bad." Watson thought of the patient who robbed the hospital yesterday. He felt funny and sad at the same time. He was already lying on the operating table, and even took out a gun from his pocket to ask the doctor for money.

Crazy.

This is Watson's only impression of the city.

But if it is Holmes, he must be able to do extraordinary things.

With his participation, starting from the police station, Gotham may usher in incredible changes.

"How is your work at the hospital, Watson?"

The sudden voice of the detective interrupted the doctor's thinking.

"It's going well." Watson said after deliberation. "The handling method has improved a lot, and the basic things haven't changed too much. I can't fully understand it, but...it's okay."

"When you go back to London, you will be the best doctor in England."

"That's an exaggeration."

"No exaggeration, Watson, you are a very fine man."

Watson coughed twice, held up his cup to hide his happy expression after being praised.

After all, it was Sherlock Holmes who was praising him. He has always judged others harshly, which is very rare.

----------

"Master, it's time to get up."

Alfred lifted the quilt of the large bat, allowing the sun to shine on Gotham Baby's face.

"...Aff, bats don't go out during the day." Bruce closed his eyes, trying to find his own quilt and put it back on his face.

"You have a party this afternoon."

"The party? Who held it..."

The housekeeper was just about to answer his young master, but he suddenly noticed something wrong with the volume—Bruce's voice was getting smaller and smaller. When he turned around, he saw Bruce fell asleep again.

"It's an old friend of the master." Alfred threw the ice cubes he had prepared into Bruce's collar, and watched him sit up again with satisfaction.

"Hiss... what is this? Ice cubes?"

"Obviously, sir."

"...I see, I'll get up right away."

"By the way, master. Mr. Holmes may have news." Alfred stood by the window and tied the curtains. "James Gordon of the police station seems to have solved a lot of cases recently."

"Mr. Holmes?"

"I remember, young master, that you are also very optimistic about Constable Gordon, so it should be normal for Mr. Holmes to find that he is a good person."

"Where's Dr. Watson?"

"I don't know." Alfred said, "Although we know Dr. Watson's appearance, our technology has not yet developed to the point of face recognition."

"do not have it?"

"Wayne Enterprises does, but Gotham doesn't."

Gotham's monitor life cycle seems to be three days.

Even if the technology of Wayne Enterprises has advanced to the point where it can build high-speed trains and Batmobiles, Gotham is not ready yet.

There is perfect technology, but the basic monitoring equipment cannot be fully installed.

"I see, as long as there are clues." Bruce fastened his tie in the mirror, "Wouldn't it be great for Gordon to become the director as soon as possible?"

"With all due respect, master." Alfred took out a black handmade suit for Bruce from the closet, "Mr. Holmes will meet you sooner or later, and I think you will need his help sooner or later."

"..."

Bruce thinks of the detectives he rode with when he was a kid, and of the playboy he has to disguise now.

Somehow he didn't want to face Holmes.

"What are you worried about?" Alfred could tell what he was thinking at a glance. "I believe Mr. Holmes will be able to see the truth."

"Even if you cover it up well, it's only a matter of time."

"I see, I'll try."

That's what he said, but for now, the characters must be established first. As soon as Bruce walked out of the gate of Wayne Manor, he went to find two girls.

Roll call for models with big breasts, thin waist, thin hair and long hair.

Another point is that they must have no brains, so that it is not easy to find out where they may be exposed, and it is easier to create a playboy personality.

After picking out two girls, Bruce found another luxury car before setting off to the hotel.

"Shall I help you park the car?"

"Of course, thank you." Bruce threw the key to the doorman, hugged the girl from left to right, and walked into the splendid hotel.

"Oh, Bruce Wayne." Mrs. Kane raised the glass in her hand, "Welcome back to Gotham."

"Thank you."

After Bruce was seated, the two models left his side to play by themselves.

"How are you doing recently? Are you still getting used to it?" Oldman sat down with a dinner plate—this person is the president of a bank in Gotham, "You came back just in time, I heard that the atmosphere in the police station has improved recently Yes, even some gangs have been arrested a lot. What's the name of that policeman?"

"Gordon, James Gordon," Mrs. Kane said, "he's already solved a lot of cases. Gotham hasn't had a police officer who is willing to do things for a long time. Maybe he will be the next chief."

"Hmm..." Oldman made a long dragging sound with unknown meaning, "I just don't know if he can live to that time."

Bruce and Mrs. Kane looked over at him.

"You know, Falcone has all the villains in his hands. If he wanted to, that Gordon would have been killed on the way home."

This is indeed a problem.

Bruce thought as he sliced ​​through the steak on his plate.

It's just that there are still many forces involved in Falcone, and this kind of thing needs to be considered in the long run.

"There's one more person," Oldman said, "that's... emm Batman?"

"I thought it was just a legend." Mrs. Kane looked at him. "Like a kid's bedtime story or something. You think it's true?"

"Of course. Maybe you don't know clearly, but he has sent many criminals to the police station."

"Sir, the female companion you brought is doing indecent things, maybe you would like to take care of it?" A waiter suddenly walked over quickly, bent down and whispered to Bruce.

Bruce looked back blankly.

The two models were taking a bath in the hotel's small pond.

...The models selected this time really meet the selection criteria, for example, they have no brains.

Bruce pulled out the blank checkbook from his pocket.

The waiter just now had already left, and seemed to be going to ask those two to get up first.

Gotham's top playboy had to just grab another waiter.

"Go and stop him, I want to buy this hotel."

Bruce dutifully played the idiot, "I need some new regulations here, like about ponds..."

He got stuck halfway through.

Mr. Sherlock Holmes, who was wearing the clothes of a waiter and had obviously slipped in to investigate the case, looked at him silently.

The author has something to say: I personally think——

There is a desk in Gotham's police station with a sign that says "Consult a Detective" on it, which is also quite handsome.