[Comprehensive Yingmei] Genius Lianmeng

Chapter10 Rationality and Rationality

"It's time to teach you a lesson, Sherlock." Watson poured the last of his coffee into his mouth, jumped at him in the posture of an angry bird, and pushed his roommate, who never had a switch on his mouth, back onto the sofa. "Wait, isn't this my computer?!" Burning anger was dancing and beckoning to him.

"I know, mine is downstairs." The consulting detective held the military doctor's wrist, and Watson suddenly felt that all the strength he had prepared was drawn away—Sherlock was stronger than him, stronger than him, stronger than him …His hand hung down slowly against his will and in accordance with instinct.

Rationality and instinct struggled in his rough nerves for a while, forcing Watson to speak through his teeth: "Are you going to die in the living room! Are you too lazy to move after taking two steps? Wait , I set a password..." Watson's voice weakened.

"'FUCK', as always, lacks creativity and technical content, and I cracked it in less than a minute." Sherlock's right hand was hanging under the sofa, and it was loosely closed on Watson's wrist, and his left hand was pointing at his smooth chin. Like a big, triumphant cat with a curling tail.

Watson decided to change the password to "CAO" in Chinese spelling next time.

But a few days later, after even "CAO" was cracked, he gave up racking his brains to make up more esoteric codes—anyway, he would be cracked by someone who was created by the Creator out of common sense.

How much the West pays attention to the society of individualism, why do you insist on occupying other people's lives everywhere, invading other people's secrets, making everyone feel insecure, and making chickens fly, Sherlock Holmes!

If I don't give myself a "Best Roommate Award", I'm sorry for the careful cultivation of "London Bad Roommate"!

Watson returned to the kitchen angrily, and hung up the "Sherlock and aliens not allowed to enter" sign.With his hands on his hips, he stared at the name "Sherlock" with all his strength, as if he wanted to stare out a hole in the string of letters.

Just when Watson's eyes were clattering and falling in love with "Sherlock", a burst of melodious and melodious music came in, which was more complex and more emotional than Sherlock's violin skills.

The music touched a certain fuse in his emotion, which was neither delicate nor delicate. At this moment, although Watson hadn't touched the clarinet for many years, he still felt that the messy little apartment he was in seemed to be expanding and expanding, becoming Vienna Golden Hall.

Here's Hannibal getting dinner ready, playing the clavichord in the living room.The open cover of the keyboard instrument is decorated with intricate feasting scenes, and the small human figures seem to gather in the light above the strings.

The Doctor played with his eyes closed, without the need for music, as all highly skilled men do.His straight body leaned forward slightly, intoxicated by the music, his hair was reflected in the orange candlelight, and it was the luster of fur.He used music to paint the dim room like paint in the dark.Hannibal's playing is not perfect, his left hand may be a bit stiff, but it is wonderful and can make people's heart throbbing with his deep understanding of the music.

Watson, who only has the superficial knowledge of music, naturally can't make the above conclusions. He can't even tell that this piece is Bach's "Goldberg Variations", he just feels that the whole body is comfortable and beautiful.Just as he was about to give a thumbs up, suddenly a group of ear-piercing, sawn-like noise rose from the ground, scaring Watson almost to death.

...Sherlock held the violin between his arms, playing the unpredictable and disturbing "Sawwood Sonata" with the same intoxicated posture.

Hannibal quickly changed the tune and matched it with the noise of sawing wood.

He stopped playing, got up from the keyboard, and said with his usual calm attitude: "My favorite sound and feeling comes from the harpsichord, because the volume of the strings cannot be controlled, and the arrival of music is like an experience, suddenly complete appear."

Watson nodded in a cloudy manner, and an unknown sense of severity surged into his heart.

Hannibal stretched out a hand, ready to invite the two to sit down for a meal, but Sherlock suddenly took a step, waving a bow like a fencer, pointing, and said with a spoiled look: "Your bedding has to be moved to me. bedroom, John."

"Nani?"

"Isn't it a decent kindness and courtesy to give up the upstairs room to a new roommate?" He smiled like a fox trying to persuade a rooster to come out of its coop.

This expression made Watson feel vicious, and he punched hard, and mercilessly swung at the smiling, pretty face. At the moment he wiped the opponent's nose, he turned abruptly, and angrily hit on Sherlock's high cheekbones.

Rubbing his fist that was hurt by sharp cheekbones behind his back, Watson gritted his teeth and said to Hannibal: "The first broadcast of the men's tricks tournament just now, Dr. Lecter, is for entertainment only... ...Huh? Wait...Three roommates, two bedrooms...Since there are only two bedrooms, it seems..." He felt a surgical knot in his tongue.

It's really a trick and death championship, but it's him who is doing the death.

Before Hannibal could express his opinion, Sherlock leaned forward, put a big smile on his face, put it under the doctor's nose, and said brightly, "You are not one to be harsh on yourself, Dr. Lecter. As an elegant person with a high pursuit of taste in life, taste in America, taste in Europe, taste as a successful medical professional, taste as a fugitive devil - you will not object to our thoughtful arrangements Right, Doctor?"

He bared his teeth again like a toothpaste ad, ohJesus... Watson beat his battered brow like a drum.Then Sherlock smiled back - so fast that it seemed the smile was just a bystander's illusion - and his eyes were as sharp and sharp as the bridge of his nose and cheekbones.

On the contrary, Watson stared blankly at the roommate who was facing each other like a drawn sword, and his jaw uncontrollably left his cheek again.

——When did these two guys change their outfits?Almost like a dog!

Dr. Lecter put on another extremely elegant dark silk coat, crisp dark trousers and a white shirt, and a scarf tie. Although the attire was stylish and modern, he still looked like a king from a medieval tapestry.

As for Sherlock, whose aggressive gaze was fast solidifying, although he was not overly dressed, he was surprisingly well dressed.There was no tie or tie, and the purple shirt wrapped tightly around his thin but muscular body, wearing Watson's favorite purple in a high-end, elegant, low-key and luxurious way.The formal suit further accentuated his tall and slender figure, his broad shoulders, thin waist, long legs, and his fair complexion.

These two are wearing... as if they can be carried to the church to get married right away...

"Want a red carpet?" Watson said, crossing his arms.

"Why not?" The dark maroon curls on Sherlock's forehead twitched, making a sweet and innocent smile.

Watson limped upstairs to change his clothes with a mouthful of old blood, his fingers never leaving his temples.

Damn it!

After 3 minutes, humming the melody of "Arrogant, High-spirited, Across the Yalu River", Watson went downstairs in accordance with the rhythm of the march.

He was tightly tied with a white belt, wearing a medal, and a neat military uniform, looking serious, serious, upright, masculine, serious, even with a trace of abstinence.He stood with the upright posture of a soldier, if not for his short and round limbs, he would be considered heroic...

Hannibal glanced up at him and suddenly held his breath.He hurriedly took out the silver cutlery from the hot pot. The handle of the knife was almost hot when Watson tried it.

Who told me that I don't have even a suitable dress...

After Hannibal's ups and downs, it has partially restored its dignity as a kitchen and dining room.The handle of the knife weighed heavily on his hand, like a high-quality dueling pistol.He could even feel the rush of adrenaline in his veins, like holding a gun.

"We are going to have a serious adventure ahead, which I would rather not rush and avoid if possible. Look, John, at the dancing colors of this Château d'Elgam in the glass. If the stopper comes off It's a pity to have it too early! The sacred fragrance should not be lost when it is poured." Accompanied by Sherlock's disdainful eyes and disgusted "boring", accompanied by Watson's "sounds amazing" worship, Dr. Lecter is like As carefully as sawing through a human skull, he removed the stopper and put the wine in the pourer.The pourer is crank-and-screw-actuated and tilts the bottle in fine-grained graduations.

"I'm sorry, Dr. Lecter, I'm not good at appreciating fine wine. To me, the difference between vinegar and it is not as different as cat and Sherlock." Watson spread his hands, "I don't want to pretend to be an expert and arty."

Sherlock shook his fluffy curly hair, tucked in the napkin, and spouted at a reasoning speed: "Food? Wine? Boring. These are just transportation channels. Desires, especially appetite, have nothing to do with Reason, which I regard as supreme, contradicts. The fascination and pursuit of food and drink, in my opinion, is nothing but the Dionysian carnival of this depraved, sick, and irrational world. What is placed on our table today is a It symbolizes that the expansion of bestial desire is a moth that will end our society, and it will definitely end the entire human race in the future..."

Hannibal held out a hand like a conductor cutting off the music.He calmly said to Watson: "The dinner party appeals to the two oldest senses, taste and smell, which are closest to the center of the mind, and occupy a higher place in the heart than reason, but reason has no place at my table." .Meanwhile, the communication of rituals, sights, and feasts occurs on the thalamus of the brain, like a painting of religious miracles on a lighted church ceiling, which may be far more seductive than degrading crime and cold analysis."

These two outright bastards, one speaks and thinks at an outrageously fast speed, and the other uses words and sentences that are gorgeous, elegant and complex to the point of despair.

"Although there is no leader in talent, but you two..." Watson suddenly raised his head and raised his voice three times in an instant, "Will you die if you don't show off for 5 minutes?!" Head, the voice turned into a whisper: "Damn it, Sherlock, why do you always have trouble with Dr. Lecter? You are already annoying enough!"

He smiled slightly, and put his beautiful and slender hands on Watson's lap familiarly, and stared directly at his companion's bigger and rounder eyes with his characteristic child-like mischievous eyes.The moment those eyes turned, they changed from a complex lake color to a dull gray.

Sherlock's eyes were so clear and so charmingly shaped that the corners of his mouth curled up playfully, but those lake-like eyes would make it impossible for even the gravest skeptic to question his sincerity.

"To show the difference between closeness and closeness, John." His voice sank for a moment, and his voice was like a cello with a down-tuned tone, extremely magnetic, soft and deep, with depth and temperature.It was like a cat's paw with its pointed nails retracted, softly rubbing against Watson's tympanic membrane, making his ears feel like they were pregnant.