Patrick's Bizarre Adventure

Extra Story [-]: Murder Case

"Dr. Watson! Dr. Watson!" Mrs. Hudson's anxious voice came from behind, and John Watson stopped, with his usual smile on his face.

"What's the matter? Mrs. Hudson? Has something important happened?" Watson asked gently. Of course, if it didn't happen, the lady's emotions would probably soar to a level that he didn't want to see.

"Oh, nothing." Mrs. Hudson stopped in front of Watson, still holding two pieces of paper and a bag of biscuits.After she recovered her breath, she continued, "I made a new caramel biscuit for you to try."

Watson stared at the black bag of biscuits that was stuffed into his hand speechlessly, and could even hear the clinking sound of them bumping into each other.He tried not to pay attention to them, so he raised his head and pointed to the paper in Mrs. Hudson's hand: "What is that?"

"What? Oh!" Mrs. Hudson giggled: "Look at my memory! Haha! This is a letter for that fellow Sherlock stuffed into the mailbox. Here it is, take it!"

"Uh, why isn't it in this mailbox..." Watson took the letter in confusion, and then opened the mailbox at his door - countless colorful advertising papers flew out like a snowflake, and piled up in a small pile in front of his shiny leather shoes .

Watson: I see.

"Sherlock?" Watson took out his key and opened the door of 221b Baker Street, calling his roommate's name.

"Sherlock? Sherlock Holmes?" He didn't get any response, so he relaxed and opened the door, and was immediately startled by the long face exposed through the crack of the door.

"What the hell? Sherlock, what are you doing here?"

The man called Sherlock by John Watson was serious with his shoehorn face, and stared at Watson with sharp eyes: "Dr. Watson, who just finished dating a certain woman, finally remembered his roommate. ?”

"How do you know... Forget it, I understand, you don't need to say it. Okay, stop making trouble, get out of the way, and I'll go in." Watson muttered resentfully.He had just met an elegant and talented woman named Irene Adler - even the name was so nice!God knows where this guy deduced it from!

"Don't use your barren head to try to figure out my thoughts, Dr. Watson. And you can't come in now."

"why?"

"Unless you throw Mrs. Hudson's coal out in the public dumpster now."

"Oh... okay." Watson agreed resignedly, and quietly threw the bag of biscuits into the trash can.First of all, he knows Sherlock Holmes, this man is extremely self-confident and self-confident, he is what he says.The second point is that he actually doesn't really want to eat this bag of black unknown objects.Especially after he ran to the toilet all day after eating Mrs. Hudson's special gray-yellow bun, he didn't want to try new things even more.

When Watson entered the door again, the big face at the door had disappeared. Instead, he was wearing his own loose pajamas with a pipe pattern on it, holding two crumpled pieces of paper, pacing back and forth in the living room, occasionally taking The pipe was played and played in his hand.

The more Watson looked at the two pieces of paper, the more familiar they looked-"Didn't Mrs. Hudson give this to me? When did you take it from my pocket?"

"When you opened the door with a stupid face." Sherlock Holmes ignored Watson's protests about his own adjectives, and went on: "Come on, don't worry about those insignificant things, and have a look at this."

As he spoke, he inserted the paper in his hand into the center of the wood fireplace with a pocketknife, calling for Watson to come and have a look.

Watson hung his coat on the hanger by the door, loosened his tight suit jacket, and walked near Sherlock: "What doesn't matter? If I were a member of Congress, I would discuss this matter A lawsuit has been filed against you."

"It's a pity you're not." Sherlock snapped back mercilessly.He knocked impatiently on the wood fireplace.Watson then leaned forward.

"...the devil...the trick...the scapegoat and the blood..." Watson read out every single word, but it was a pity that these words seemed meaningless, like false propaganda specially used to tantalize people. "What does that mean, Sherlock?"

"Oh comeon, you've been Sherlock Holmes' assistant for so long and you still don't understand

Is something about to happen? "Sherlock hates iron but not steel.

"What will happen?" Watson asked foolishly, "Maybe the strawberry donuts in the sweet cake shop next door are going to drop the price for this?"

Sherlock: Why did I choose this idiot as an assistant in the first place?

"Murder case! Mystery case! All interesting cases may happen because of this!" Sherlock poked hard at the poor paper on the fireplace, almost poking a hole in it. "Use your brain! Mr. Watson! Don't act like a mentally handicapped child who has fallen in love all day long?"

"Well, since you said that, can you predict when this 'interesting case' will appear?" Watson was also reluctant, mainly because he hadn't confessed his love to Miss Irene yet, so it wasn't considered a relationship. !

"I do not know."

"You don't know?" Watson said exaggeratedly: "The famous Mr. Holmes, how could he not know?"

"Come on, Watson, put away your schadenfreude. I guess this question will be answered soon."

"what?"

The phone rang "jingling", especially harsh in the quiet room.

"Here we come!" Sherlock jumped up from the sofa and grabbed the phone at an unprecedented speed, but he didn't pick it up immediately, but waited for three seconds before slowly bringing the receiver to his ear.

"Hello? Sheriff Raymond? It's me. What happened?"

"..."

"Judging from the blood at the scene, this person died about five hours ago. Has the air conditioner been this hot since you came here? Forget it, you definitely don't know. It should be trying to use the temperature to change the state of the corpse. Let me think about it. The technique is somewhat familiar... there are these inexplicable patterns on the ground... Watson!"

Watson was distracted. He had long been used to putting Sherlock at the scene of a murder, and then took the results directly to go to the police to catch someone's dog for a walk, until he was called out.

"What's wrong? Is there anything I need help with?" Sherlock rarely asks for help!If he wants to ask me if I have any clues, how should I laugh...

"Get the others out."

Watson woke up from a beautiful dream, and watched Sherlock's performance in the room where only two people were left.

He put his hands in the pockets of the windbreaker, wore the brown top hat he usually wears on his head, and kept his eyes fixed on the floor in the middle of the room.

"Still out?" he said.

Just as Watson was about to ask him if his brain was broken, he saw a crack appear on the floor tile in the center of the room, and then it shattered into slag. A teenager crawled out from inside, with mottled blood on his body.