[Comprehensive Yingmei] Genius Lianmeng

Chapter63 treacherous waves

When Sherlock tightly clenched the hand of his cohabitant, he strode into Scotland Yard with his coat rolling over——Watson strode with difficulty on his two short legs (compared with Sherlock), and groaned and groaned. Like a teddy dog ​​chasing a full-grown black panther—unsurprisingly, the police, detectives, detectives, assistants and forensic doctors in Scotland Yard were all buzzing like hair-wound machines. Busy.

"Corpse, now." The appearance of Sherlock aroused hatred, and his well-dressed appearance with extraordinary taste made him the center of the storm in an instant.

"I have to remind you, Sherlock, the corpse this time is a bit..." Lestrade's silver hair seemed to be getting whiter, his brows were furrowed and worried, and the corners of his eyes were full of anxiety and exhaustion.

"I'd rather go to the morgue to talk to the dead body now than to talk to you, Jeff." Unsurprisingly, Sherlock dismissed the detective's kindness and mistakenly mistaken Lestrade once again. name.

This time, Lestrade made no attempt to resist Sherlock's urge.With wearily slumped shoulders—Watson remembered that the Inspector's shoulders were always straight—he led them without a word to the morgue.

Lestrade's dejected reaction lit up Sherlock's eyes.Like a cat that found its prey beyond imagination, every muscle in Sherlock's body tensed, his breathing was deeper than usual, and the temperature of his hands was also increasing...

"You didn't get help from my colleagues?"

"Sherlock is talking about Bruce Wayne in 221C downstairs, he is as great as the only consulting detective." Watson added considerately, "I think you have already heard about this from McCrov. One o'clock, Greg?" He added the accent to "Greg" by the way, and patted his cohabitant on the shoulder meaningfully—raising his arm high, of course.

"That's why I'm like a turkey with a bad plague." The inspector's head with short silver-gray hair hung down, and he seemed to have no energy to look at the only hope.

When the pale and stiff corpses of the two young girls they had observed in the photos stood upright in front of the detective assistant duo, they finally held their breath hopelessly.

Watson is a doctor as well as a soldier. He has seen all kinds of hideous wounds beyond human imagination on the Afghan battlefield; In terms of experience in dealing with corpses, he has only a lot more experience than his cohabitants.Even if they are faced with a pile of broken limbs that have been grinded by a meat grinder, they may be able to discuss it seriously without any pressure.

But... the two corpses in front of me are not ferocious and bloody, neither disgusting nor terrifying, on the contrary, a strange sense of beauty hovers in every inch of space in the morgue.

Sherlock stared straight at the corpse, opening all his senses like a drug hound.

"This...is like a sacrifice, a ceremony." Watson lowered his voice, as if he was afraid of disturbing the souls of the dead.At the same time, memories related to Dr. Lecter unknowingly surfaced from the sea level in his mind.He thought of the Doctor ripping apart his victim's back, letting the ribs spread out like wings; he thought of Hannibal hanging a policeman from a cage with his arms outstretched like a crucifix...

The two girls in front of me are really, really beautiful.Even if they lie lifeless and motionless on the mortuary table, people can still see their well-shaped lips, soft but not sharp facial features, strong and well-proportioned but not fully developed torsos, and graceful limbs. In the arc, the beauty factor that is ready to go is unearthed.

"Golden hair roots... a woman with blonde hair." Sherlock's slender body was pressed down, and the sharp cat's eyes seemed to light up fluorescent lamps from within.

"It's not in the newspaper yet?" Watson asked distractedly as Sherlock put on thin medical rubber gloves and inspected the wound inch by inch.

"We don't want to cause panic, you understand, John." The inspector put his hands in his pockets, but his tone was uncertain, "otherwise underage girls in London would not dare to go out."

"Hmph, intriguing politics, scheming, control, and early bald McCrov." He stared at the corpse, but mercilessly fired at his elder brother again from the air, "under such obvious evidence , Bruce deduced the possibility of a serial killer, which is really cause for celebration."

Deliberately ignoring the indiscriminate attacks of consulting detectives, Lestrade carefully offered clues and said: "The identities and backgrounds of the two victims do not overlap at all. One of them lives in the City of Finance and is the daughter of a dentist; the other is the daughter of a dentist. Coming from Soho, her poor mother made a living out of street, drug, and petty theft, and the social circles of the two girls were so different that they couldn't have been more different..."

"Please, Gavin, get out of my mind and find the reason for that thing on my shoulder." Sherlock sarcastically mercilessly, but his eyes were still focused on the corpse, "Also, don't send you A whole 'professional team' is here to put me in trouble, or all the rooms in Scotland Yard will have to be turned into morgues by the time I find the killer."

"You've been very helpful," Lestrade replied, half-approving, half-resigned. "By the way, tell us what you've found...if you'd be kind enough?"

"There are too few clues." Sherlock made close contact with the corpse without hesitation. His long fingers wrapped in thin medical rubber gloves carefully opened the wound inch by inch-this scene , so strangely beautiful and creepy, "The stick hit the neck, and he was killed with a single blow, which shows that the murderer is proficient in fighting, and at least has a strong physique; Fine sawdust remained in the hit place, but not on other parts of the body, proving that the stick used by the murderer was made of wood, about the thickness of a fire stick used to dig a fireplace; the surface of the victim's body was covered with a layer of grease, which indicated that it was lamb kidney fat The proportion of the mixture with lard and tallow needs further research. Why did the murderer oil the victim? Is it a unique ritual? Also, the hair was taken away as a booty, indicating that the murderer was collecting something , What is his strong desire to get from the victim, what exactly does he want? It's definitely not just hair..."

Sherlock's reasoning became slower and slower, and his tone gradually lowered: "Interesting, so interesting! The victims who seem to have no connection, the motives that are hard to see, the confusing development of the case... Finally Have a great day!"

Lestrade wiped the cold sweat off his forehead, but Watson grabbed him quickly: "Shall we go and see the scene, Sherlock?"

"On-site? Of course! We can't delay even a minute! Otherwise, the number of corpses in Scotland Yard will increase exponentially!" Sherlock's crystal clear eyes were like leaves of grass covered with morning dew, and he raised his hand to look at his watch. , the action is coherent and full of power, "The countdown to the game has begun!"

The author has something to say: Adapted from a lot of cases, I can't stop with a big brain... No spoilers for now~

Bucky's eyelashes are also against the sky!

The insane Amway, a CP in the European and American circles: Shaman's first love (the movie title is "X-Men: First Class", and Shaman's second spring "Reversal of the Future" is said to be coming soon), it is simply bloody. Sadomasochism, sadomasochism, tenderness, tenderness, honeymoon, honeymoon, love, and killing each other (...) Two people have different views but love for a lifetime, love for a lifetime and divorce for a lifetime, what's so cute QAQ, British, beautiful and French Shark (ˉ﹃ˉ) (Yimei is a man with waist eyes!)