[Comprehensive Yingmei] Genius Lianmeng

Chapter7 Another Genius

Watson went upstairs carrying a bag full of fruits and vegetables, and said to himself, "Don't worry about me, I can manage."

He didn't realize until he put the bag on the dining table that Sherlock went to Barts Hospital to destroy the corpse today.

Watson slapped his head and laughed at himself, "This guy's influence and presence are really great."

Before turning around, a subtle premonition of danger rushed straight from the tailbone to the forehead: there are signs of strangers entering the room.Watson's hand naturally fell on his lower back, and he could draw out his pistol to deter or fight back at any time.

A man who wasn't too young and didn't look old at the same time leaned quietly on the low red sofa, occupying Watson's place.He closed his eyes, looking calm and relaxed.

This man was small and thin, not much taller than Watson, with bald hair like an otter, a fair skin that was equally shiny, a proud hooked nose, and wire-like hairs on his hands and bare arms. strength.

The small round wooden coffee table is covered with exquisite brocade embroidered with small roses, and the brand-new, milky milk-white porcelain tea set glows with a delicate and almost eerie light.

The heavy dark red curtains were opened, and the bland British sunlight spread out, spread on the carpet with red background and gray pattern, and on the exquisite brand new tea set - the tea set is the first-class goods, without any impurities , slightly translucent.

"Hello, what can I do?" Watson's muscles tensed up.

The intruder straightened his back, opened his eyes, and stared at him over the top of the smoked tea lenses.

At this moment, Watson suddenly felt that his purple-brown eyes with sparks burning in their pupils seemed to be able to make a low voice.However, he listened quietly, and all he heard was his own blood flowing in his cranial cavity.

The owner of the eyes stood up to speak, but his lips barely moved, so it was difficult to tell which image the cultivated voice came from—a bookshelf full of books scattered across the right side of the sofa?Is it a folding table lamp with a great sense of design and modernity on the bookshelf?Is it the brand new tea set with milky white crystals on the coffee table?Is it a low, stocky sofa?Or the quiet, lean, elegantly polite psychotherapist on the couch?

His voice shot straight into Watson's brain like a laser, as if his head had been cut open.

It took a long time for this neat and thin man's answer to be accepted by Watson's nervous system.

He said: "Good afternoon. I am Dr. Hannibal Lecter, the new psychotherapist Mr. Mycroft Holmes has arranged for you."

To fire his therapist without notice and arrange a new one for him as a matter of course is really something the British government would do.

Waitaminute.

Dr. Hannibal Lecter?Why does it sound so familiar?

Watson's mind was blank, like a vacuum without the concept of time.

Then, the Big Bang happened—Hannibal Lecter!That's right, it's that completely antisocial madman who has a special interest in human liver, pancreas and brain, that highly accomplished psychiatrist and mental patient, that person who eats all over the American police, judicial and psychiatric circles, Eat all the way to Italy's Capponi Library in Florence and finally eat all the way to South America - cannibal doctor, Hannibal Lecter!

A voice screamed in his head, and a horrible, intense stimulus pounded into his stomach.

Watson covered his head with one hand and his stomach with the other, but his hands did not tremble. His inactive brain was running at high speed, and all the blood in his body was screaming.

From the Abnormal Human Research Center, although he has a personality that pursues danger and excitement, and also longs for the thrill of adrenaline soaring, but... but one Sherlock is enough!And now, 221B Baker Street has a self-centered, self-proclaimed sociopath, and a fully, utterly conscious sociopath who enjoys doing it!

"I'm John Watson..." he murmured blankly.

The moment Watson closed his eyes, the little doctor had already come to him, holding his arm with a strong and steady hand, and said politely: "The tea has just been brewed, please forgive me for making my own decisions." Bring the tea-things, Mr. Watson." His gait made him look taller than he was.His quiet, inaudible apology was tinged with an extremely subtle, hoarse metallic scraping.The figure of the doctor is set off in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows, forming a black silhouette.

The sunlight fell entirely on Watson's face, while the visitor's face was backlit.

"John." Watson ordered his pulse to drop, ordered the bristling hair on his clothes to calm down, and held out his hand in the most friendly manner he could.

Oops, it seems like Hannibal can't stand shaking hands!His nose is too sharp, and he avoids all the smells that disgust him...

John's action is ahead of his brain again Watson's worries did not come true, Hannibal showed his small and white teeth - he should count this expression as a smile - and also stretched out his right hand: "Since I am older than you I am much older, and have more experience and experience than you, would you like to call me Dr. Lecter?" Dr. Lecter is very polite, impeccably polite, not blunt arrogance and charity, but kind and elegant.

If he got rid of his strange habit of eating people, he would be much more likable than Sherlock...

"Of course, Dr. Lecter." Watson answered kindly.Although such a formal title seems weird in this era, and although Hannibal looks to be in his early thirties, he still complied. "I'm actually very curious, how did you invade 221B Baker Street, doctor?" His dark blue Eyes wide open, he spoke politely and bluntly.

"It's not an invasion, little John, I will never be rude." His small white teeth and the fire in his eyes flickered together. "In my opinion, rudeness is indescribably abhorrent."

... As a criminal with high self-consciousness and high IQ, as an evil devil who enjoys uncovering scars and inflicting pain on others, in his opinion, "rudeness" is the greatest crime!Amitabha!

He fixed his eyes on Watson's whole body, and his pink, pointed tongue stuck out almost imperceptibly, rolling in the air, as if he was tasting the other person's smell.

"I like the smell of this sofa." Dr. Lecter stood upright, as still as a character in a tapestry pattern.

Watson's thick nerves trembled weakly.He took a deep breath and forced himself not to pick up the items at hand and hit his head on the spot.

As unexpected as your therapist is, there is nothing in you that he is looking for.With no black hole in your heart that could be thrown into a tank, no shadows from your childhood, no trauma to your psyche—thanks to the strength of your nerves—Dr. Hannibal Lecter would not be interested in you.

Watson said firmly to himself.

It seemed as if a whole century had passed before an important question visited Watson's frozen brain: it was 2009, where did this young Dr. Lecter come from?