[Comprehensive] 100 ways to fight criminals

Edmund frowned: "Sir, what exactly do you want to say?"

"No, you misunderstood, I didn't have any thoughts against you." He spread his hands, indicating that he was harmless, "Lorna told me that she had met a handsome man before, and she admired him, but she didn't dare Speak, so she wrote all her emotions in an email."

"what do you mean?"

"She once said that she would write the name and password of the mail on the title page of the poetry book to the man she loves, so that he can understand his own mind. I can't find the book, so I guess it should be returned. In those Before the police arrive, I can get the book and give them the clues to solve the case as soon as possible.”

"I see……"

Edmund suddenly realized, and said to him: "The poetry collection you mentioned is in the warehouse. In order to avoid misunderstandings caused by borrowing it, I have put it in a safe place. Well, you follow me, I will go Bring you the book."

"Exactly." The man glanced at his watch and said casually, "Come out later and contact Inspector Lestrade and give him the evidence."

"Yes, give him the evidence."

Edmund repeated as he took off his glasses, wiped them and put them on again, and walked ahead.

The two passed between the rows of bookshelves, and their feet stepped on the cold tiles, reflecting their shadowy figures.There seemed to be something reflecting light, refracting icy colors.

"Crench."

Edmund's footsteps stopped. He turned his head and glanced at the man. He took out the key and asked, "By the way, I haven't asked what your name is yet?"

"Joe."

He paused, seemed to find it amused, and raised his lips against Edmund's back.

"Just call me Joe."

The doors of the warehouse looked old and the paint had peeled off a lot, giving it a gloomy look.After tossing for a long time, the door finally opened, and Edmund breathed a sigh of relief.

Joe patted him on the shoulder: "Thank you, buddy."

"For the truth." He smiled and nodded.

The door was pushed open, and the room was so dark that it was impossible to see the structure inside.Edmund fumbled to open the switch, and then turned on the light.

"Please come in."

He gestured with his hand.

"It's troublesome."

The warehouse is about the size of four ordinary bedrooms, and the inside seems to have not been taken care of much, and it looks dusty.A few stacks of bound books are on the side, and there are more sundries like stools and abandoned bookshelves.

Edmund closed the door abruptly.

"What are you going to do?" Joe asked, looking back in surprise.

Edmund quickly explained: "It's not very clean here, it's not good to be seen by others."

He made a joke: "If I were a woman, I would really start to suspect that you are that perverted murderer."

"So you should be glad."

The two looked at each other for a few seconds, both showing slightly relaxed smiles.

"You're a funny guy."

He turned around and couldn't help but sigh with emotion: "I really admire you, if I stayed in the library, I would be suffocated to death within three days."

"That's because you don't appreciate the beauty of reading. I'd rather spend the rest of my life in a quiet library than outside."

"Like a philosopher." Joe curled his lips irresistibly. "So where is the poetry collection? My friend, it was so pleasant to chat with you, it almost made me forget the most important thing." "It's on your left , you can reach out and get it.”

"Left? Let me see, it's here..."

He bent down, and when his fingertips were about to touch the book, he heard a "click", and the huge room was suddenly pitch black.

"what happened?!"

"It should be tripped, don't worry, I'll fix it right away."

In the darkness, Edmund's voice was steady and could soothe people's hearts.

"It's almost ready, just wait a little longer."

In the dark warehouse, there was a sudden rustling sound, like a mouse running around, making a slight rubbing sound against the floor.Surprisingly, a little ghost-like green color danced in the air, constantly approaching the place where he was step by step.

There was a flash of understanding in the man's eyes, but he deliberately called out in an anxious tone: "Edmund! Is the light on? Why do I feel something is wrong!"

A green spot of light stood still not far from him.

The tightly closed warehouse is really too dark, you can't see your fingers, even if you are so close to each other, you still can't see clearly.

"Joe?" Edmund called in a low voice.

Soon, he got the response he wanted.

"Where are you?"

Time freezes at this moment——

"Boom!"

In the warehouse, there was the sound of people's bodies hitting the ground heavily. Their movements could not be seen clearly in the dark and almost dead space, but the sound of the two fighting could be heard.

Edmund was punched heavily in the face, his consciousness was a little dizzy, and he let out a trembling cry.

In the next second, his tool knife was taken away.The man who was about to kill was holding him tightly, and his voice couldn't hear the ups and downs.

"Why did you kill me, are you guilty?"

"No, you misunderstood..."

"You wanted to divert the attention of the police from the very beginning, probably because you didn't expect them to come to your door so soon, so you told Lestrade an answer that was very similar to yours. You know I can make a portrait, and I lied temporarily to give' He is of medium stature, looks refined, has asked for records' and other information, which happens to coincide with the expected results."

"You! You are Sherlock Holmes?! You don't look like that!"

Sherlock's tone was almost arrogant: "You really can't tell at your level."

"Damn!"

"You gave indeterminate videos and a lot of information about the names of students, which was just used to delay time and cause confusion for the police. After they focused on an inexplicable passerby, you decided to take the last step."

"The last step you mentioned..." Edmund was silent for a few seconds, "I'm sorry I don't understand, what exactly are you trying to say."

"The police acted very quickly, which invisibly put a lot of pressure on you. In just a few days, you visited your parents twice, did property notarization, and of course, did not forget to go to the deceased lover's place to commemorate .You reflect on your mistakes, but you get so bored with everything in the world that you decide to kill yourself.”

"If I'm going to commit suicide, why do I have to deliberately kill you?"

"You know that the crime you committed will make you notorious. In order to leave the only way out, you would rather end with suicide, so that even if someone finds out the truth, they will not be easily convicted. People really have a deep-seated Selfish creature."

"You...you are too scary, Holmes. This gives me the illusion that your shadow lingers around me every moment of committing the crime."

"As long as you commit a crime, you will leave traces, not to mention that you are full of loopholes, so it doesn't take much effort."

Sherlock's voice was indifferent: "You used to be a university professor. After being criticized by students, you decided to come to the library to concentrate on your research, but this is really the case? During that time, you were under pressure from students on the one hand, and on the other hand There were constant quarrels with your lover, a miscarriage when you pushed her down, and the devastated woman woke up and decided to leave you."

"..."

"Of course you can't bear it. You love her so much that you can't wait to rub her into every inch of your body, so that each other's blood and bones can blend together. So she died, and there was an accident on the way to leave. You Watching her buried in the grave with contentment and sorrow, and from then on, the psychology of revenge began to take root."

"I didn't mean it! If... If she won't leave me, how could..."

"Everything is an excuse for self-comfort. When you killed those innocent women, you comforted yourself like this, as if the sin would be cleared." Sherlock stared at him mockingly, "You are so wrong."

Edmund said to him in a cold tone that had never been enough: "Those women are not good people. They betrayed their lovers and deserve to be punished."

"You killed her and fooled around with so many women, isn't it considered a betrayal?"

Edmund seemed to have been greatly shaken, and suddenly became speechless, and his protective shell was split open instantly.

"It's time to stand trial."

……

Sherlock had removed the disguise from his face before informing Lestrade that they were taking Edmund.When Edmund was about to get into the police car, he stopped suddenly and asked him with a wry smile, "How did you figure out my position?"

"I put a little fluorescent powder on my finger," he explained briefly.

He had expected that Edmund would do this, and when he patted his shoulder, a trace of fluorescent powder was stained on his shoulder, so that it was very obvious in the dark environment.

"I have one last question. Is there really an email address and password in the poetry anthology?"

"No."

... No wonder, he still wanted to destroy the corpse and wipe out the traces by chance. It turned out that he had fallen into the trap from the very beginning.

Edmund sighed desperately, and got into the car without looking back.

Finally the truth came out.

"Sherlock, thanks to you this time! I really didn't expect him to be the murderer, and I almost fell for it!" Lestrade looked grateful.

Sherlock waved his hand impatiently: "There is no need to repeat these useless encumbrances every time, Lestrade. How about the case at the Opera House?"

"No progress yet. But I heard that this incident has caused dissatisfaction among many members, and they all demanded an answer quickly."

"They?" He raised a warm smile, "That's not necessarily true."

"If you want to intervene, I have to explain in advance that this case is not our responsibility, so it is still a bit difficult."

Lestrade hesitated for a moment, and said, "I'm sorry...do you still remember the young police officer who pestered Miss Song before? It's their task."

Sherlock's eyes froze.

"I see."

After returning to the apartment, Song Yiqiao was no longer as sickly as he was a few days ago. He walked back and forth in the living room nervously, somewhat in Sherlock's style.

Seeing Sherlock coming in, she stopped and asked, "How is the case going?"

"Ah."

He took off his coat and hung it on the hanger, and pulled the corner of the curtain that was inadvertently exposed.

"What do you want me to do?"

"Sure enough, I can't hide it from you." Song Yiqiao touched his nose in embarrassment, "You know the founder of Fight Club, Jack. He left me an email before, but I didn't open it for fear of being monitored. Do you have a way? ?”