I have special killing skills

Next to Sherlock, he mercilessly pushed Sherlock back on the bed, and then covered every inch of Sherlock's pale skin with a thin quilt, and said in his mouth: "Sir, in view of your current physical condition, I It doesn't feel like you can move freely."

Sherlock frowned, but still lay down obediently.He remembered that when he was bewitched by drugs, it was this young lady who always held a blackberry with a polite and alienated smile, and stuck a needle full of anesthetic into his neck.

Women are always such a headache, Sherlock muttered to himself.

Anthea was very satisfied with Sherlock's cooperation, so she put away the syringe hidden in her sleeve.Gently touching Dr. Watson's shoulder, the good doctor straightened up in a daze, and when he saw Sherlock's amber eyes, he subconsciously said, "Sherlock? I told you that you are not allowed to crawl Come to my bed, you..." Suddenly the voice stopped, the good doctor looked around in a panic, his eyes stayed on the sky blue curtains of the ward for a while, and facing Anthea, "I understand, no need to explain" When she smiled, her face flushed.

Anthea curled her lips and said, "If something good is coming for you, I will notify the boss." After she finished speaking, she left the ward knowingly, leaving time for the couple.

Oh, anyone with eyes knows what they're about.

Watson scratched his head, obviously a little embarrassed: "Sherlock, you...do you feel pain?" Seeing Sherlock's somewhat helpless expression, Watson realized later, "Oh, sorry, I know you are not feeling well. Then do you want to eat again, I'll buy it for you..." Then she stood up and wanted to leave.

But in the next second, Sherlock grabbed his wrist.

The man's slender palm was wide and warm, but his fingertips were a little cold.Watson subconsciously turned around and looked at Sherlock, a little at a loss, but Sherlock asked calmly, "How long have I been in a coma?"

"Fifteen days, God, you frightened me at that time." When Watson mentioned this matter, his face would still pale slightly, obviously with lingering fear.

Of course, Sherlock knew what kind of tragedy he would be in. He had carefully studied the injuries that would occur when the human body fell from various heights. Even though he was determined to die, Sherlock still subconsciously sought advantages and avoided disadvantages to protect himself. The all-important internal organs were spared, and allowing himself to be caught in the phone booth during the fall—on the ribs, still hurting—had kept him alive as long as possible.

But now, judging from the pain in his body, Sherlock's protective measures may have worked, and it was surprisingly good. He was also glad that the man named Moran didn't shoot him in the head again.

These thoughts flashed through his head, and when Sherlock looked at Watson again, he smiled slightly, "John, I want to know why you are dressed so formally today? I remember that The poor lady named Sarah has parted with you, and I can't think of anything else you could do with such solemnity."

Watson did not take the initiative to break free from Sherlock's hand. In fact, the long-term relationship has made the good doctor used to the detective's touch in any way.He sat back on the low stool beside the bed, and smiled uncomfortably: "I'm going to a funeral."

Sherlock raised his eyebrows: "Whose funeral?"

Watson raised his eyelids to look at Sherlock, then immediately lowered them, and replied in a low voice, "Your."

Sherlock was taken aback for a moment, then his face became dark, but when Watson looked up again, Sherlock returned to his usual calm: "I guess this is Mycroft's attention, he always likes to make these little tricks."

Watson knew a lot about the grievances between the Holmes brothers, and he didn't refute, but said with a smile: "I think this is very effective in protecting you, Sherlock, your safety is the most important thing."

"Come on, Mycroft just wants to save trouble." Sherlock waved his hand in disapproval, but such a simple gesture made his shoulder ache.

Watson tore his hand from his wrist and stuffed it under the sheet.Sherlock let him do it, but he was obviously satisfied with Watson's carefulness, and he looked at himself like a treasure.

This look always fascinates Sherlock.

"I may not come back to see you until night, Sherlock, don't run around." Watson said and stood up.

This time, Sherlock didn't pull him, but looked at him eagerly, with obvious and almost false grievances in those eyes: "I'm in pain, John, can I ask for a goodnight kiss?"

Watson knew that this man was deceiving him, yes, Sherlock had deceived him more than once, but Watson just couldn't restrain his indulgence.He sighed and whispered, "Sherlock, it's daytime."

"We can make up for it. It's been five days. Poor Sherlock has nothing."

"Damn it, who did you get that weird intonation?"

Sherlock answered inwardly, of course from Moriarty...the only madman he knew.

However, the effect was obviously good. Although Watson said these fierce words, a light and soft kiss was printed on Sherlock's smooth forehead.This satisfied Sherlock, who closed his eyes and accepted Watson's kindness. In fact, Sherlock never asked for more.

"I'm leaving." Watson straightened up, not daring to look at Sherlock, turned his head and walked towards the door.

The moment he left, he heard Sherlock say "goodbye" in a low voice.Watson smiled, but without looking back, he closed the door.

================================================== =======================

"Then you ran out?" Moriarty, who strongly demanded to listen to the story, muttered, obviously a little dissatisfied, "How did I hear that you were kidnapped?"

Sherlock snorted lightly, "You're very well informed." Then, ignoring Moriarty's staring eyes, he said slowly, "According to Mycroft's desire to control, he won't allow me to stay in London." Once Sherlock was sent to Belarus by Mycroft guns, and stayed for three years before returning.That experience was too painful, and Sherlock didn't want to do it again.

But this time it was really unlucky, who knew that he crashed into Moriarty's territory.

"But obviously, Mr. Holmes still hasn't smoothed you out." Moriarty crossed his legs, poured himself a glass of wine, looked at Sherlock, and smiled maliciously, "I don't think you can drink this."

Don't let Sherlock not look at him at the beginning, this is a low-level provocative method, but perhaps Moriarty's expression language is too annoying, Sherlock is still very angry.

Moriarty naturally found that the big detective hadn't moved since the plane took off just now, and his sitting position didn't look comfortable at all, but he didn't move at all.It seemed that he wasn't fully recovered, or that his injuries were not serious, but it was surprising that such a great detective still took the risk to escape.

Glancing at Irene who was always looking this way, Moriarty slightly raised his voice: "Dear Adler, in order to prevent us from falling into the sea, I hope you can concentrate."

Erin shrugged, gave a sexy smile and continued with her work.

After drinking a glass of wine, Moriarty smiled even more happily: "Detective, aren't you afraid that I'll kill you?"

Sherlock looked at him and said in a low voice, "You won't."

Moriarty still smiled, the smile remained unchanged: "Yes, I won't, you always understand me so well~"

Sherlock frowned, he still didn't like such a sticky way of speaking.

"Our destination is Australia, where I have the ability to isolate everyone from surveillance." Moriarty leaned over slightly, and reached out to touch Sherlock's cheek. The cold touch is fascinating, "The great detective , I can hide you there and no one will find you."

Sherlock ducked back, but obviously couldn't avoid Moriarty's hand.

Looking at each other, the two were like a tug-of-war, neither of them willing to admit defeat.

But in the end, Sherlock, who was in severe pain, spoke first: "You can try it."

Moriarty curled his lips, and let go of him boredly: "You are not interesting at all now."

Sherlock smirked twice and ignored him.

Moriarty didn't ask Sherlock why he ran away from Mycroft urgently, and Sherlock didn't ask why Moriarty was still alive. They were like charades, never willing to tell the truth.

And Irene, who was driving the plane, rolled her eyes secretly, expressing her disdain for this childish way of being angry.

A few hours later, the plane landed in Australia, scaring away several kangaroos.

☆, 53. Suspect Tracking

Australia is a very suitable place to live. Moriarty, who has a lot of savings, bought a farm proudly and excitedly bought a tractor, which is said to be the same model as Lee Pace.

Irene didn't stay for a long time. She was not as lucky as Moriarty to have someone to help her with London affairs, and she was not as leisurely as Sherlock to run away from home. The poor woman still has to contribute to a wonderful life, But this process is enough to make people happy.

"I thought you liked her quite a bit." Moriarty fiddled with a scythe for mowing grass that he had never seen before, squinting at Sherlock who was lying leisurely on the grass.

Sherlock, who had already taken off his hospital gown and changed into a suit of comfortable clothes, dangled a straw in his mouth, looking terribly leisurely.Hearing Moriarty's question, the great detective pulled the weeds, and his voice was as deep and pleasant as ever: "She may be very smart, but I won't provoke her."

Moriarty wrinkled his nose and said "you're smart".Throwing the scythe aside, Little Jim went and sat down beside Sherlock. Sherlock glanced at him and didn't look away, letting his doomed enemy stay with him.Apart from the two of them, Nuo Da's farm only had a few sheep and two horses, and it looked peaceful and peaceful.

The black-haired man stretched his waist, put his hands behind his back and raised his head slightly to look at the sun: "Hey, big detective, let me tell you first, I bought this farm, if you want to live here, you'd better listen to me." , or, we sign a roommate agreement."

Compared to following Moriarty, Sherlock still felt that the latter suggestion was more reliable.Sherlock's injury is still not healed, and he can't do such a difficult move, so he can only look up at Moriarty: "What agreement."

Moriarty snorted, took out the phone from his pocket, shook it, and obviously said with some pride: "I exist here, a total of 620 pages, and we can sign after you finish reading."

More than 600 pages of agreement... Sherlock's rare expression of speechlessness appeared on his face: "Can I know why you take that kind of thing around?"

Moriarty shrugged, but didn't answer.He didn't want to tell Sherlock that this was because in Moriarty's miserable college life, there was a man named Sheldon who had higher test scores than him every time, which led Moriarty to sign an agreement. Year after year, it finally led to little Jim storing that thing in his mobile phone, ready to deal with Sheldon's difficulties from all aspects at all times.

Damn Sheldon Cooper.

================================================== ========================

Farm life was pleasant, or so Moriarty thought.The original farm owner had an old couple as helpers. Moriarty didn't fire them, and he didn't lower their wages in this economic downturn. The two old people are very grateful, so many things don't need Moriarty worried.He doesn't know how to cook, and he never expects the big detective who looks so lazy to cook, and the craftsmanship of this old couple is obviously very important.

Helping them with the housework was Mrs. Vincent, a very gentle old lady.

The third time she saw Sherlock pick out the peas, Mrs. Vincent finally couldn't bear it, and gently patted Sherlock on the shoulder.For these two young people, Mrs. Vincent has always had a very good impression of them. After all, she is almost three times their age, and the old man naturally has the mood of looking at the younger generation.

Sherlock's blue-green eyes looked at Mrs. Vincent, while the old woman smiled and said with a spoon: "Oh, dear Sherlock, look at your body, so thin, and there are injuries, Don't be picky eaters."

Sherlock was silent, but looked at those peas as if looking at an enemy.

Mrs. Vincent shook her head, she was very dissatisfied with Sherlock's partial eclipse, and she looked at Moriarty, who was gloating there, and said calmly, "Jim, not eating any vegetables is not good for your health."

Moriarty wrinkled his nose, but put a large spoonful of cauliflower into his mouth without even a rebuttal, and looked at Sherlock defiantly.The curly-haired man raised his eyebrows, endured the discomfort and put the pea in his mouth.God, this stuff is as bad as ever, and his John can't help him eat these.

Mrs. Vincent was very helpless about this mutual fighting behavior, but obviously these two people were very interesting.When Mrs. Vincent put the fish and chips on the table, she saw that the eyes of the two men had a good look, and she also felt relieved.

"It's delicious." Moriarty smiled and narrowed his eyes, and then looked at Mrs. Vincent, "If I didn't know, I would have thought you were British, Madam."

Mrs. Vincent didn't understand the temptation here, she just smiled, then sat on a chair beside her, slowly cut a piece of fish and put it in her mouth, then said: "My child was once killed by a British school. School admissions, it was a weird school and it was only available from King's Cross in London. I lived in London for seven years until my kids graduated."

Sherlock raised his eyes: "I've never heard of a seven-year school in England."

Mrs. Vincent waved her hand: "Oh, I also find it strange that the school used owls and parchment to send admission letters. After my little Jack went, he also started to use these weird ones. It's a joke, but his father didn't want to tell me about that school, but it shouldn't be a bad thing to see his reaction, my little Jack is much more well-behaved and sensible."

Moriarty stuffed another mouthful of French fries: "Your child must be an excellent person."

An old woman like Mrs. Vincent obviously likes to hear such words, her smile warmed a lot: "He is a good boy, although now I can only go to London to get together with him at Christmas, but He does a decent job."

Both Moriarty and Sherlock didn't ask further questions, both of them knew what is enough and enough is enough.After dinner, Moriarty proposed to play games together. Mrs. Vincent said that she was not suitable for their young people, so she left first. Moriarty looked at Sherlock, tilted his head and laughed.

"I don't play chess." Sherlock sat down on the sofa, trying not to touch his injured shoulder.

Moriarty sat across from him and shrugged: "I don't like it either. To be honest, the only person I've ever met who likes that is Charles. He always wins."

Sherlock didn't bother about Charles' identity, he looked at Moriarty and asked, "Tell me what you think."

"Let's play suspect tracking." Moriarty looked at Sherlock with a smile. For an excellent criminal master, Moriarty firmly holds the relationship between Sherlock and his dear good doctor. Obviously, this game that the good doctor gave as a Christmas present is Sherlock's favorite.

A detective, and a criminal, sitting together playing suspect tracking is an eerie scene.But Sherlock accepted the offer.

why not?Moriarty had a brain smart enough to be a perfect fit.

================================================== =======================

The fire was warm and the Australian night was quiet and peaceful.There was a bottle of wine on the round table in front of the two of them, and most of the dark liquor in it had obviously been consumed.The pickled lime was placed next to it. Looking at the weird blue color, you can know how unpalatable this thing is.

Whoever loses gets a glass of wine followed by a slice of lime, a dreadful palate treat.

"Killed by one shot?"

"Yes."

"Is the cat missing?"

"No."

"Are the windows open?"

"……Yes."

"If the clock is pointing at three o'clock, then the suspect can't commit the crime in just five minutes, but he can kill the victim without leaving the secret room." Sherlock raised his eyelids, obviously the wine just now didn't hinder him. Big detective thinking, "From the windows, it's obvious that you just mentioned that the windows can be pushed out and that none of the felines are incapacitated by the distance of two floors."

Moriarty wrinkled his nose. Obviously, Sherlock had won, which wasn't fun at all.He poured a glass of wine, gulped it down, and squeezed a lime into his mouth, his face puckered together.Then little Jim bravely ate the orange instead of spitting it out, staring at Sherlock with brown and black eyes, obviously not convinced.

All the questions they asked just now were deciphered by the other party, so no one lost, and no one won.Half the bottle of wine went into their stomachs, which made Moriarty very unhappy: "When I play with Moran, I always win."

Sherlock glanced at him and snorted coldly: "I never lost when I played with Watson."

Moriarty squatted on the chair—this movement was taught by Moran countless times but he couldn’t get rid of it—biting his fingernails a little angrily.Obviously, Moriarty can't bear power. Little Jim always likes the taste of victory. He hates defeat, and he hates draw even more.

That's nasty.

After thinking for a long time, Moriarty seemed to have thought of a way.He jumped down from the chair and said excitedly: "Why don't I go out and kill someone now, and then you can guess the method I use?"

Sherlock raised his eyebrows: "The lime smell on your body is enough to give you away, and I will still win."

Little Jim tilted his head: "I thought you would stop me directly."

Sherlock snorted and picked up a cup of tea, the strong tea aroma dispelled the alcohol: "You just want to use this to deceive me again, Moriarty, don't think I'm a fool."

Moriarty wasn't annoyed after being punctured at all, instead he smiled happily, walked up to Sherlock, half-kneeled between the man's legs, lowered his head and cupped his face: "Detective, if I didn't If I meet Moran, maybe I will like you."

Sherlock looked at him blankly: "There is a lie, clumsy."

Moriarty smiled and gave Sherlock a kiss on the cheek, and happily went to bed.

It might be a good choice to live with the big detective, every day will be very interesting~

☆, 54. Wizards and birth potions

The days go by like this. For Moriarty, he may like the exciting life of walking on the tip of a knife, but every day he looks forward to the days when those little lambs will grow up alone. It was a good time.

And after half a year of recuperation, Sherlock has finally recovered vigorously and tenaciously under Mrs. Vincent's careful care and Moriarty's deliberate abuse. Now he can also ride the bay red horse in the backyard Running a few laps around the farm without worrying about sore ribs, horse riding has become an important part of the detective's life and leisure.

However, because Mrs. Vincent has too much affection for the sheep they raise, the meaning of the existence of these sheep is only shearing and cuteness, and they have no food value at all.Even if two young people want to eat meat, they don't have the ability to cook them well.

"I've always wanted to raise a horse." The detective stroked the horse's mane and fed it a carrot.

Moriarty, who was holding the lamb, was thinking of the days when he could eat lamb chops casually, and when he heard this, he looked up at Sherlock who was standing beside him: "I thought you only liked teddy bears. "

This sentence is obvious teasing, but Sherlock is not moved by it.He took another carrot and handed it to the horse's mouth, his blue-green eyes shone slightly: "He is very smart and loyal. Mycroft and I are very envious of the pony next door, but the one named Cy Bastian's little bastard is not even willing to let us touch, and his face is scary."

The name sounds familiar.Moriarty decided not to worry about these old events. He stood up, and the little lamb in his arms seemed a little disturbed by this sudden change in height.Moriarty skillfully stretched out his hands to cover the little guy's eyes, which allowed the little guy to settle down quickly. Little Jim was very satisfied with his obedience, and maybe he would be willing to take him back to continue raising him when he left in the future.

It is always a good choice to eat after fattening.

Looking at Sherlock's long legs, Moriarty didn't feel envious or jealous at all, because only hatred remained.Sherlock didn't pay any attention to Moriarty's gaze. He fed his horse, held the saddle with his hand, and rolled over with a little effort.The great detective has a mind that ordinary people can't match, and also has an athletic talent that ordinary people can't match.At the very least, Sherlock was able to gallop with his bay horse when Moriarty was thrown black and blue.

"There are some things you can't envy, my little Jim." Mrs. Vincent walked to Moriarty, put down the wooden bucket containing milk, smiled and picked up a milk bottle and handed it to Moriarty.

Moriarty looked depressedly at Sherlock who was having fun, pouted and stuffed the bottle into the lamb's mouth with an aggrieved face.When the little guy drinks milk, he always likes to use his weak hoofs to move back and forth. The strength is so weak that it doesn't hurt, but it feels strange.

The feeling of life.

Moriarty turned his eyes away from the little lamb, and he looked at Mrs. Vincent: "I'm just regretting that I didn't drink the milk honestly before." He had enough milk for the damn Sheldon, that guy Within a few years, he will be as tall as Jumping Sky Yang.

Mrs. Vincent patted Moriarty's arm: "Merlin will always give everyone a fair talent, at least in my opinion, you are very lucky." After she finished speaking, she laughed, "I raised A few children, Jim, in my eyes, all the little guys who have grown up to be self-willed are lucky, they have met someone who can let them be self-willed, which is actually very good."

Moriarty tilted his head, thought carefully for a while, and then nodded solemnly: "Yes, I met." Because all those who didn't deal with him were sent to hell by him.

Mrs. Vincent smiled and took the bottle from Moriarty's hand because it was empty.The little lamb obviously didn't want to get enough of it, and kept biting its mouth. Moriarty blinked, and reached out to touch the little guy's head. The little guy narrowed his eyes, his long eyelashes covering his beautiful pupils, and Mrs. Vincent also Finally put the bottle on.

"You will be a good father in the future." Mrs. Vincent sighed sincerely.

Sherlock, who happened to be riding past them on horseback, let out a moderate hum when he heard this, obviously mocking.

Moriarty looked very happy, and when Sherlock walked away, Moriarty turned to look at Mrs. Vincent: "Excuse me, do you believe in Merlin?"

Mrs. Vincent was taken aback for a moment, and then turned her eyes away with some discomfort.

But Moriarty was obviously unwilling to let her go, and continued with a smile: "You are British, obviously, although I don't like to deceive, but you are a good lady, I think maybe you have a good story to tell me .”

Mrs. Vincent sighed. She looked at Moriarty and pointed to the scattered smooth stones beside her.Moriarty and Mrs. Vincent chose two seats to sit on, and then he heard Mrs. Vincent say, "Yes, Jim, I'm British, and I'm sorry I kept it from you."

Moriarty shook his head with a look of "I don't mind", because the gun was pinned to his waist, ready to be drawn out at any time.

Mrs. Vincent was a little hesitant, but she knew that these two young people who came to the farm suddenly were very smart, and they were much smarter than ordinary people, so it would be a matter of time before they were exposed. A leather case was taken out of the cloth pocket of the apron.

The leather case looked bright red and very beautiful, but what slipped from it into Mrs. Vincent's hand was a long brown-red wooden stick, and the moment she held it in her hand, Moriarty felt that it was so beautiful. The old lady looked more confident.

That kind of confidence is similar to when Moran got the gun.

"I'm a wizard, yes, a witch, but it's not quite the same as the ones in fairy tale books." Mrs. Vincent carefully observed Moriarty's expression, making sure the young man didn't show any disgust before continuing said, "But I'm not a very powerful wizard, but I met a very nice kid named Snape, who was my grandson's teacher. The poor kid has always looked very bad, and resisted the family children. Elves, oh, are small things that can help wizards live. I was once favored by a great nobleman, so I volunteered to help Snape with some housework."

"Is it like making food to feed us?" Moriarty asked with a smile.

This remark amused Mrs. Vincent, who nodded, looking more at ease.She picked up the wand and waved it casually a few times, and the surroundings became warmer: "The warming spell, it's not difficult." Then, the good lady put away her wand and continued, "He and you are still together." It's different, God, I want to pour the hairdressing potion directly on his poor hair. But a few years ago, there was a war in the wizarding world, and Snape was picked up by the nobleman, and I was afraid of being Poji came here."

Moriarty stroked the lamb's soft fur: "It sounds dangerous."

"Everything is fine now, everything is calm, and Snape also married that great nobleman, which is very good, but he insists on not using that person's surname, you must know that this is very bad, after all their children It's really hard to imagine what the last name will be."

Moriarty nodded, apparently satisfied with the story. For little Jim, who loves watching kangaroos and koalas, listening to stories is also a personal hobby.Little Jim, who likes to observe, of course can see that Mrs. Vincent didn't tell him everything, but it's good to be able to talk to this point, and the spell called the warming spell is very useful. I can ask Mrs. Vincent to use it more in the future one use.

Maybe washing dishes can also be solved with a magic spell?You know, washing the dishes every day is really frustrating for Moriarty, he hates the foam.

However, after a few seconds, he realized something was wrong: "Wait, name it? I thought Snape was a good man."

Mrs. Vincent smiled gently: "That great nobleman is also a gentleman, which is very common in the wizarding world."

very common……

Moriarty sighed with emotion about the openness of the wizarding world, and then said: "Then, their children..."

"Birth potion, it's also very common, every little wizard is precious." Mrs. Vincent smiled gently, but there was a mischievous smile in her bright eyes.

And Moriarty did not disappoint her expectations, showing a dumbfounded look.

Mrs. Vincent wiped her cheeks with a handkerchief, and then said, "If you and Sherlock need it, I will write to Snape. Although I don't know if people without magic can use it."

Moriarty pursed his lips, and did not make any excuses for the misunderstanding between himself and Sherlock, but said with a smile, "I want two bottles."

"Two kids? Oh, Jim, you're so sacrificial."

Moriarty smiled mysteriously: "Dear Mrs. Vincent, can't you see that Sherlock is..." He pointed out his little finger.

And Sherlock spent the rest of the day receiving Mrs. Vincent's amazed and reassuring glances that sent shivers down his spine.

================================================== =======================================

Little Jim: Sherlock, do you believe that men and men can marry?

Sherlock: After Mycroft passes his own proposal this year, he and Rogge will become the first couple to register for marriage. I think this will not be difficult for him, after all, Rogge really wants a wedding

Little Jim: ... [Brother Sherlock has a lover named Roger besides Lestrade?Tsk tsk, really]

Little Jim: Sherlock, do you want to believe that men and men can have children?

Sherlock: Come on, I don't think my horse kicked you in the head just now

Little Jim: ... [Kouheng, wait, wait for that potion called something to come, I will trick Little John into pouring it into your mouth]

☆、55·Dark Night Visitor

From spring to autumn, the two of them just spent nearly a year in the vast field manor.

Mrs. Vincent said that she has a guest today and will bring his lover, which made Mrs. Vincent very excited and busy since several days ago.Since Mrs. Vincent had been on the farm longer than them, the considerate little Jim generously invited Mrs. Vincent's guests to the manor.

Naturally, Sherlock had no objection. He had an infinite spirit of exploration after seeing the letter delivered by an owl last time.

"He's a very nice guy, I'm talking about Snape," Mrs. Vincent said with a smile as she set the plate, "most of the time he doesn't like to talk, as long as you don't say something he doesn't like That's all right, he has a bad mouth but a good heart."

Moriarty nodded, looking extremely well-behaved.

Sherlock looked indifferent, but secretly remembered these things in his heart.Although most of the time Sherlock behaves like a bastard, the biggest difference between him and Moriarty is that this great detective has the most basic moral bottom line, and has a gentlemanly demeanor that makes Moriarty feel ashamed .In terms of his attitude towards women, as long as Sherlock is not in the "I'm bored" temper, he can always maintain respect, and he doesn't want to make things difficult for Mrs. Vincent.

Mrs. Vincent was obviously very satisfied with the attitude of the two farmers.She smiled and went to the kitchen to look at her roast chicken, while Moriarty looked at Sherlock excitedly: "Hey, big detective, we might see a living wizard later, it's really exciting. "

"I thought you were excited enough when you saw Mrs. Vincent help you wash the dishes with your wand." Sherlock said lightly.

Moriarty pouted: "That's not the same!" As he spoke, he seemed to be very proud and lowered his voice but said excitedly, "I think you may have heard of Grindelwald, that powerful and charming nobleman. , man, that's exciting."

Sherlock cast a glance at Moriarty. Obviously, the spirit of fascism can only make a little lunatic like Moriarty happy.

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