[Comprehensive Yingmei] Genius Lianmeng

Chapter49 Life goes on

"Could it be that from now on, I have to accept that 'the friends I've worked with for a long time are a group of high-profile rebels who gave up treatment'?" Watson touched his head and made a fresh conclusion.

"Glad you're finally waking up to this bloody, painful reality, John." Sherlock didn't spare the smirk that instantly doubled his age on his wrinkled, cracked, boyish face, "Hannibal Lecter, Bruce Wayne, and Sherlock Holmes, in a way, are all patients."

Before I had time to praise the self-knowledge of the cohabitant’s modesty and prudence, a harsh noise erupted from the Abnormal Human Research Center. The noise was one after another, high and low. After a long time, the whole 221C was shaken, and the noise was suppressed It was straightened out again, and finally condensed into a concise sentence: "You are not a member of the Abnormal Human Research Center, Sherlock Holmes."

"Could it be that Sherlock is a normal person?" Watson asked in horror, with a pale face.

The electronic voice fell into an eerie silence.

The tenants exchanged a few glances of reasoning and conjecture, and looked at each other for a while without making any achievements. The electronic voice changed into a happy mode and said, "No, because we haven't been able to find a cure for Sherlock's 'abnormality' for the time being." Therefore, there is no targeted treatment for him for the time being.”

221B+221C audience: "..."

They really don't want to admit that the Justice League, which shoulders the mission of saving the earth, is a group of funny people who even gave up treatment and tried to treat others...

"We can't offer any quid pro quo, because Sherlock wants nothing more than to stimulate a beautiful case, and the Justice League is absolutely unwilling to improve the IQ of criminals." The Flash was collectively suppressed by the rest of the program, and Superman The even, smooth, soft voice came out, "So..."

"So you are a group of idiots with fibrotic brain cells and muscular muscles. I'm so glad that I don't have to meet you in this world for the time being." Bruce watched coldly, and finally couldn't help but spit out a high-intensity spray called "Batman". Venom, "It's impossible for a person to want nothing! Abnormal as Sherlock is absolutely impossible! As my colleague said, the evidence is clearly just a foot under your nose, but you just choose to turn a blind eye."

"Bruce is right." Clark unconsciously echoed his roommate, and nonchalantly argued with his future best partner and teammates in the world, "They put blinding flash bombs every day, you can't turn a blind eye..."

Watson: "..." Fu forehead.

Sherlock: "..." He pursed his lips arrogantly.

Abnormal Human Research Center: "..."

In the end, the electronic voice switched modes again, and complained in a tone of hatred: "You guys know too much."

According to the preliminary judgment, it was Hal Jordan, the second Green Lantern in history.

The ending sound was forcibly cut off, and it was switched to Wonder Woman's queen voice again: "In short, the hope of the earth is pinned on you, do it well, boys~"

Watson's lower limbs tightened, and he felt an inexplicable pain of being attacked.

The electronic sound was completely silent, as if it had turned into a "plant program" in an instant, no matter how the tenants jumped up and down, they didn't respond at all.

Watson rubbed his eyes desperately, and intuitively decided that he had a dream with a big brain hole.

From detective Wenshen to cartoon, such a coquettish position is too fantastic.His warrior's crude nerves actively filtered it.

As if this was really a ridiculous dream, life on Baker Street was not disturbed at all, Sherlock still pulled Watson to continue the inherent pattern of "quarreling and solving cases", and the little reporter who restored Superman's other identity still came out early Returning to work late—except for flying halfway across the world to rescue someone in a disaster area—Bruce taunted his roommate inhumanely more than once, and the little reporter was unmoved.

Fortunately, Clark learned to choose to hide his whereabouts, otherwise, in the modern Internet society, he would be stripped of his vest every minute.

He didn't want to deliberately hide the identity of Superman, but now, the world is not ready to accept superpowers.

By the way, there is also Bruce Wayne who has changed—he is a rich second-generation attitude that "my young master is rich or DIAO" and does not play cards according to common sense, like a gem-studded, gleaming dagger, He inserted into the Ministry of Science and Technology, Ministry of Defense and intelligence agencies of the British government in a flash - even though he just paid for technology and money quietly, he has already shocked all the old guys except McCrov to almost the heartbeat Stuffed.

Bruce used to return to 221C with a box of desserts from MI50, along with "Admonish your brother, Sherlock, or he'll be a gum-eating fat man before he's [-]." "The heart-piercing complaint.

"Thank you, Bruce." Sherlock often picked up a piece of pastry and swallowed it, and couldn't be more arrogant and picky. "MI[-] beats MI[-] in terms of pastry skills."

"It's a great honor to hear your praise, Mr. Holmes." Alfred usually adjusted his glasses and made a standard smile of a kind elder, making people almost forget his identity as a "former MI[-] ace agent" .

The days rolled forward without any difference, and in a blink of an eye, London changed from summer to winter, and it was the season when Watson forced his cohabitants to do Christmas shopping.

— which was by no means a thoughtful note, after all Sherlock was still yelling at Santa that he was bored and wanted a good Christmas murder - in front of a crowd of kids and their parents.

After returning to the apartment under the "escort" of the old acquaintances of Scotland Yard who looked "why is it you again", they found an anxious client waiting.

After Sherlock once again sincerely insulted the client's appearance and clothes (sorry, his too real and in-depth description can only be described as "insulting"), she complained aggrievedly about what happened in her university. Murder together.

Piero Vanuci, an art student, is also the best of Sally (Westerners have hundreds of names, and this client has no accident to collide with Police Officer Dovano) Friend, stabbed to death in the pottery room.His boyfriend (well, John is dependent on his sister who has realized that he likes the same sex since he was a child. Watson shouldn't be so unprofessional, otherwise he is really sorry for 30 years of swaying and the morals of the big rotten empire) Pep Rowe Vito, who was found next to the body, told the police that he had just found Piero.

Slow as Watson also took into account the suspicion of the victim's boyfriend, Sally explained that a window was broken, which seemed to prove that someone had entered uninvited.In addition, there were no tools for the crime on Pep or in the room, so the suspect was temporarily released.

Sally is convinced that Pep killed Piero, and the two of them are fighting.It doesn't take Sherlock Holmes to know that she loves her victim, too.

If Sally is not blinded by love, then the next task is to find the tools for the crime.After observing the wound for a minute, Sherlock told the forensic doctor hiding outside the door with no doubt that the murderer's crime tool was a small knife, a small pencil sharpener no longer than two inches long.

"I don't want to express my admiration for you anymore, Sherlock." Watson said self-destructively.

"No, you think." Sherlock raised his nose arrogantly and obnoxiously, making the bridge of the nose, which is not too high among Westerners, break through the sky in an instant.Then he relapsed and ordered his roommate to go online immediately, and was very excited to find that many students' rooms had been stolen, including a lecturer and a friend of the deceased.

Of course, he'd already thought of it, and Sherlock had expected the nearly exhausting compliments from his cohabitant - but that didn't stop him from gloating.

Sherlock proceeds to beg—or rather order—the do-it-all cohabitant to set off to the university, posing as the curator of the Hickman Gallery.

Thanks to Sherlock's influence, Watson still knows a thing or two about the basic cultivation of an actor. Although his performance is full of flaws and flaws in the eyes of his cohabitants, at least he has concealed it from the art lecturer Horace Harker.

Watson asked the lecturer if the deceased had ever specially made anything that they could exhibit as a memorial to the deceased.

Watson's cute and harmless appearance like a teddy bear greatly increased the interest of the lecturer. He chatted endlessly about his understanding of art, and Watson coped with it with "amazing" and "brilliant" in a perfunctory manner.

In the end, Huck's long-awaited words came to the point-Piero had made six pottery statues of Maggie Thatcher (that is, Mrs. Thatcher) during his lifetime, and they had devil's horns.It's ironic, obviously.

Although Watson still hasn't figured out why Sherlock asked him to focus on the statue, he still continued to ask questions.

Then, Huck, who was gasping for breath, told Teddy sadly that the pottery statues had been stolen.

Watson, who didn't come up in one breath, went to visit those who were stolen and found that they had all bought this kind of Thatcher statue.Nothing else was stolen - again as Sherlock had expected.

The duo of detective assistants obtained the addresses of the owners of the remaining two pottery statues.That night, Watson and Sherlock went to one of the addresses, while Bruce was borrowed to go to the other.

They waited quietly in the night, they breathed in each other's ears.The hot breath hit the neck, as if there were feathers scratching.

This reminded Watson uncontrollably of the night he fought with the clay figurines.

In the same dark closed environment, they tentatively touched each other like shy snails...

They were very close, Watson was leaning on Sherlock's shoulder, and he could touch the full and pale lips just by leaning forward a little; he could slide into that familiar embrace just by sliding down a few inches...

Then, they heard the sound of windows being smashed.

With quick eyes and hands, Sherlock pulled the cutest cohabitant with a height difference into his arms, and used the corners of the walls and curtains to form a perfect blind spot for vision.

Every night, the clingy cat visitor controls him so tightly...

Listening to Sherlock's heartbeat, feeling Sherlock's breath, and pressing against Sherlock's chest... Watson saw Pep break in and found the pottery statue on the fireplace.

They tacitly followed Pep to a bridge—Watson had the illusion that he was still wrapped in a coat by his cohabitant—watching the suspect smash the pottery statue on the ground, pick up the things hidden inside, and prepare thrown into the river...

"Stop it, Pep." Well, the suspect lived up to expectations and became the perpetrator.

He was holding a penknife with his initials on it, as expected.

Knowing that it was all over, he immediately confessed.

It's the same old love killings, quarrels, disputes, war escalation, unintentional stabbings, pressing the penknife into the clay, and smashing a window...

"Although I have tried to press Sherlock's head into the oven countless times, I have never just imagined it." Watson said, crossing his arms, "You are very smart, Pep, if you can put your smart Putting your energy into other places—such as Sherlock, it will definitely benefit mankind—provided you don’t learn his stunts of being open-mouthed all the time, and lifting whichever pot you don’t want to open.”

"Wrong!" Sherlock snorted from his good-looking nose, "It's obviously disappointingly simple." Before he continued to inflict mental damage on the poor criminal, Watson stopped him with one sentence.

"Sherlock, let's go home."

Along the way, Sherlock was as hyperactive and hyperactive as a pussy cat, and by the way, increased his physical contact with his cohabitants by at least five times.When Watson finally realized something was wrong, Sherlock hurriedly spent a lot of time explaining how he solved the puzzle.

"Shut up, Sherlock, I'll leave you with a frozen turkey at Christmas if you keep on talking like this, and say whatever you want to it."

"Don't be like this, dear John..." Sherlock suddenly lowered his head, looking at him aggrievedly through thick eyelashes.

His upper and lower eyelashes must be two dark clouds, otherwise, why is there lightning between the eyelashes?

Sherlock stared at the cohabitant with his own cute system, his eyes were so moist and innocent... Watson had a strong impulse at this moment: he must touch that curly head, even if he stood on tiptoe I don't hesitate.

When Watson's chubby arms were raised high, the doctor's hands, the soldier's hands, holding the scalpel firmly, and Browning's hand holding firmly, touched Sherlock's head tremblingly...

He took a deep breath, the feline eyes opened wide, and the pupils dilated involuntarily, like a cat preparing to prey on mice in the dark.At this moment, the coldness, loneliness and isolation inherent in Sherlock's body were like putting dry ice at room temperature, and vaporized without a trace in an instant.

At this moment, Watson saw something in the precision-instrument-like cohabitant that he most likely would never have.

Sherlock's feelings.

The author has something to say: Marry the man who stole the ashtray in Buckingham Palace for you!

Recently, there is another major assignment in international finance, and I am so overwhelmed that I really don’t have time to reply to the comments. I would like to bow to every reader who left a message~ Don’t be careless and beat me~