[Comprehensive] 221B's dead house girl

It was a woman's voice.

Twelve hours to solve the puzzle, otherwise, the woman will be blown to pieces.

Connie thought of Moriarty in a trance, as if this case was related to Moriarty.

It's just about the details... She really doesn't have the slightest impression.

Connie followed Sherlock all the way back to 221b. In the basement, she found the same place as the picture.

While Mrs. Hudson and Henry were traveling, someone might have come in.

Connie felt terrified, but no one noticed that someone stole the key and hid a pair of sneakers in the room.

Connie felt that she was lucky that she didn't meet any gangsters when she lived on the first floor.

The four stood in the basement, Sherlock crouched down looking at the pair of shoes, and packed the shoes with the bag Lestrade had given him.

"Go to St. Bartholomew's Hospital." Sherlock ordered, John followed behind with his shoes, Lestrade received the call and returned to the police station, in the taxi, Connie looked out the window, her heart was beating like thunder .

"How long?" Sherlock asked, Connie froze for a moment, and met his gaze.

She understood his question.

He knows she knows.

John: "How long is what?"

Connie shook her head slowly: "Anyway, it's less than twelve, and then the next one will be based on the time you spent, and it will be reduced a little further."

Routines are routines.

Sherlock raised his eyebrows and asked John, "What's your opinion?"

John was stunned for a moment: "Ask me?"

"Come on, I need a bystander's opinion right now."

John paused for a moment and began to examine the shoes.

"Okay, these shoes... are in good condition, they should be new." John hesitated, and Connie directly opened Google to search for shoes with white background and blue stripes. The pictures and brands came out for her to compare After a while, I got the answer.

"The size of the shoe is very large, so it is a man... Oh no, there is a name in the shoe, and most men don't do this, so this should be a teenager." John thought for a while, and felt that he had almost observed it, and asked : "How am I doing?"

Sherlock said well done, then turned to Connie: "What about you?"

Connie looked up: "Me?"

Seeing Sherlock nodding, she handed over the phone: "This was produced in 1989, a limited edition, at least more than 20 years old, but it looks so new, it must have been carefully preserved."

After a pause, Connie couldn't see anything else. She stared at the soil on the sole of her shoe: "Maybe we can do a soil analysis to see which area it is from?"

"Excellent." Sherlock rubbed Connie's hand and handed the phone back.

The uncle driver has been listening intently.

Sherlock blinked, analyzed other details, and got stuck at the last sentence: "... oh."

It dawned on him.

Several people were still sitting in the car.

John: "What's wrong?"

Connie covered her eyes, feeling that Sherlock was already [-]% or [-]% sure about the case before going to the hospital for analysis.

"Carl Powers."

John: "Karl Powers? Who's that?"

Sherlock turned to the window with a slightly lonely expression on his face.

"My first case."

He is lost in memory.

"In 1989, a kid came from Brighton to London to compete in a championship. He was a champion swimmer and he died in the pool. At that time, everyone thought it was an accident, except me."

John: "Really? Why?"

"Because of the shoes, John, the shoes are gone." Sherlock had already found out the original news.

"I thought something was wrong when I saw it in the newspaper hill, but obviously no one noticed it. All his clothes were in the locker, except the shoes."

John gasped. "So it was a murder, not an accident?"

"Turn around and go to 221b Baker Street." Sherlock ordered the driver.

"I want to save time, so I don't have to do the soil inspection." Sherlock threw the shoe to John.

"Bring the shoe to Lestrade while you're working on the case."

John: "???"

"You knew already!?"

Sherlock looked at the frightened John and snorted, "Who else would he look for besides you and Lestrade?"

Connie: "???"

John painstakingly persuaded: "It's an important national case. I can't handle it alone. To be honest, I'm very surprised why Mycroft is looking for me but not you. I don't have the ability, and Lestrade..."

As if realizing that this occasion is not suitable to speak ill of others, John coughed: "Are you really not going to help?"

Sherlock glanced at him: "Isn't there already you?"

The car turned to Baker Street, Sherlock pulled Connie out of the car, and John turned directly to the CIA.

Connie wrinkled a small face: "It seems that McCoff is looking for John to handle the case? But isn't he not in London?"

Sherlock sneered and opened the door.

He took out the sample tissue that had been collected long ago from his pocket, and began to conduct experiments.

Connie sat on the side, quietly waiting for Sherlock, thinking about something in her mind, but it didn't take long before she fell asleep.

Sherlock sat on a chair, looked at the cells in the microscope, suddenly felt dizzy, closed his eyes, and a little girl in a white dress and his memory palace appeared in his mind.

The little girl slept in one of the rooms obediently. Sherlock looked down from the top and found that it was a strange room, but the little girl in the white dress was Connie.

Opening his eyes, Sherlock glanced at Connie who was sleeping soundly on the sofa, and closed his eyes again, but this time, a dream seemed to appear in the girl's sleep.

In the big white bubble, some images flashed, and Sherlock could easily see everything that was happening in the images.

The person inside is him, but not him.

And the little girl in the white skirt slept soundly.

After skimming through the pictures, Sherlock guessed most of the case this time, but the figure was very vague.

Another man in a black suit.

That strange man.

Sherlock's eyes sank, keeping the palace quiet and warm, he opened his eyes, changed a blanket for Connie who was sleeping on the sofa, took out his computer and published his views on the website.

Half of the time on the timetable has just passed.

Sure enough, a few minutes later, the pink phone rang again, and there was a woman crying and her location.

Sending the location to Lestrade, Sherlock took off his suit jacket, sat at Connie's feet holding a cup of hot tea, leaned against the sofa and closed his eyes quietly, no one knew what he was thinking at the moment.

Perhaps, he was waiting, the second case.

When Connie woke up, it was already dark. I was very troubled by the fact that she often fell asleep without knowing the year and month, but fortunately, the time of sleeping was decreasing every day, and because of following Sherlock, walking Walking is also good for exercising the body. In addition to drinking supplements and stewed soup every day, Connie can feel that her body is getting better every day.

When she woke up, Connie was lying on the sofa in Sherlock's room, and he was standing by the window, playing the violin, John was sitting on the sofa eating biscuits, and Mrs. Hudson and Mr. Henry had gone for a walk.

Seeing Connie woke up, John quickly brought over a bowl of porridge.

"Mrs. Hudson warmed me up before going out, are you hungry?"

Connie looked at John with a slight smile and thanked: "Thank you, have you had dinner yet?"

John nodded: "I have eaten, but you know, Sherlock never eats when he handles the case."

Connie nodded understanding.

He didn't force Sherlock to eat together, after all, it's not very friendly to interrupt the great god's thinking often.

"How about the bombing?" she asked while drinking porridge.

John chuckled: "It's solved, the hostages have been rescued and returned home, which is great."

Connie: "That's good, John, what about your case? Any progress?"

As soon as he mentioned this, John twisted his mouth in distress: "A civil servant named Andrew West was found dead on the railway tracks of Battersea Railway Station. The cause of death was a blow to the head..."

Connie's face froze.

#What happened to the means of transportation these days#

#Everyone has become fine#

#First the subway, then the taxi, and now the train#

# How deep is criminals' love for vehicles? #

"Mycroft said that this is related to the latest missile defense system researched by the Ministry of Defense. One of the backups of the plan is missing. He thinks that West took it. Now that West is dead...he hopes I can find it. Back to that backup." John sighed, feeling that the quest had no clue.

Connie gave a sympathetic look: "Come on! If this case is successful, you will also be a senior detective who has cooperated with the country in the future. It will be a very good opportunity for your career."

John's eyes became unlovable.