[Comprehensive Yingmei] Genius Lianmeng

Chapter77 Another case

In the depths of the glazed eyes, it was as if a skyrocketing flame was burning, which was ignited by Watson's inaccurate subjective description.

Sherlock has always been presented as a precision instrument without emotion, more like a delicate and cold statue covered with grease or wax than a pale corpse lying on the mortuary table.

Now, he is completely burned: "I overlooked a possibility from the beginning! The grease applied to the victim's skin is not a ritual of the ancient Greeks at all, it is not a worship of beauty, but—deprivation! In the modern society that can be seen everywhere, crime is already a new concept! Oh, interesting improvement, infinite possibilities..."

"Deprivation..." Watson interjected with a tacit understanding, "Deprivation of what?"

"Oh, John, I have to understand your lack of attainments related to classics." Sherlock was almost happy - he had long considered himself the one who knew nothing about classical literature, art and skills...

Just as the consulting detective was about to lift the last curtain of reasoning and show the magic of reasoning to the goldfish, Bruce's voice rang through the communicators of Sherlock and Watson at the same time: "Okay, the time for showing off is over, Sherlock Holmes, This is an ancient aroma extraction method, using a thin blanket composed of different proportions of butter, sheep oil and kidney fat, in a gentle and intimate gesture, coaxing the flowers to spit out their precious aroma until they wither and die—— The 'barber' picks the girls with the best scents and deprives them of their bodily fragrance..."

"It doesn't look normal...for God's sake!" Watson felt his eyelids and eyebrows were about to fly away from gravity. He rubbed his stuck throat and tried every means to make himself have something to say. "'The Barber' is really a cruel and greedy demon, he wants to completely possess the fragrance of the girls! He even does not hesitate to cause one death after another!"

"Pay attention to your words, we are solving crimes, not performing a gorgeous romantic opera." Sherlock tightened his scarf - this is his signature action when he is ready to leave, "Tell us what trouble you have, Bruce .”

"I need your eyes and brains, the guys at Scotland Yard obviously lack these two organs^." There was a noise from the communicator, obviously someone protested his words, "The crimes presented on these two corpses The method is obviously completely different from that of the 'barber', but these idiots insist on putting the blame on the head of the 'barber'. I have managed to gain their dislike but not the same trust. Anyway, I need you to come to Scotland field."

"Wait, Bruce..." Watson turned his eyes and head, speeding up the filtering of the huge amount of information.

"Since you have already checked the corpse, Afu has already been waiting at the gate of Barts Hospital in the Lamborghini you are most familiar with. It is not polite to ask an old man to wait." Bruce cut off the communicator neatly .

...The desire to control or something is really annoying!

Watson collected his thoughts with the self-control like a spider's web, and walked side by side with Sherlock on two legs that remained the same length but looked more symmetrical and slender.

He no longer has to pant and chase after the drifting hem of his cohabiting lover, and he doesn't have to be like a short-legged, loyal teddy...

"Dear John, it turns out that you need a kiss instead of a case." Sherlock stopped abruptly, and placed a gentle touch on Watson's slightly raised lips, restraining himself Can't help but say excitedly.

"Good reasoning." Watson murmured sullenly and old couples. "It seems that the case will not only excite you, but even excite you."

In response, the only consulting detective in the world, Dapai, sent a smile that was extremely sexy.

The hormonal tentacles received the signal, and Watson let himself rely on his cohabiting boyfriend, and even responded honestly to Alfred's smiling, "Youth is sweet and energetic" gaze.

Time is like clockwork. Every turn of the wheel and every roar of the engine is a race against time.

They got out of the Lamborghini and strode into the morgue.

"Shut up your hormones, Sherlock, you're not Stark's material." Bruce in a three-piece suit raised his head from the corpse, his eyes as sharp as a bat dart lightly flicked over his peers, and his voice couldn't help Drowning, menacingly, "Two very different cases, with utterly different modus operandi - convincing the elm heads of Scotland Yard, my dear colleagues."

"I thought the batarang would be more useful, Bruce." Sherlock followed the tone of another great detective, "in terms of developing IQ." His movements were undisturbed, and he moved towards the corpse in a smooth manner. Bend down and go.

Watson closed his eyes.

He let the unflattering smell of the corpse leak into his highly sensitive nose bit by bit.No, no, these two corpses smell... more normal, more like corpses, like sacrifices covered with a thin layer of oil, the unique proportion of oil locks the breath of the body itself firmly under the oil molecules, Not deprived of their scent...

"It's a completely different technique, it's the difference between a country accent in the American West and an Oxford accent." Sherlock took off the black leather gloves, "Look at these wounds, even if you use all your strength to kill them, they can't cover up the traces of shoddy work." The barber's never going to break the great arteries of the neck, otherwise the coagulation, pooling and spreading of the blood will spoil the perfection of the scent!"

Bruce folded his arms without saying a word, and glanced at the poor detective who was almost crying with a lazy expression that was almost mocking.

I don't know if it's an illusion, but Watson feels that the hairline of the poor Lestrade, who is always on the front line of being oppressed, abused, and complained about, seems to have improved by a few tenths of a millimeter.

"So..." Lestrade was clearly still struggling with the shocking hypothesis of "scent capture", "what was the motive for these two cases?"

"We haven't been able to discover the purpose of the murderer yet. We need Plastic Man's AI butler to scan the corpse in all directions." Sherlock finally abandoned his prejudice against black technology.Bruce took over the conversation, his slightly hoarse voice rumbling in his chest: "But I already know that if the murderer wants to hide his body and purpose, he needs a battlefield—even if it is a battlefield where others have fought. The murderer is smart and calm , Crazy... Thank you, Jarvis, did you find anything?"

"Yes, Mr. Wayne." The cadenced yet soft British accent suddenly sounded after five seconds, "The genes of the two corpses have undergone different genetic modifications, and they are failed experiments."

The morgue was like a high-power machine that was drained of air, and there was no sound for a moment.

All the clues point to the truth they least want to see.