big devil holmes

Chapter 133 Feeling Powerless as a Doctor
In the night, Watson escaped into the shadows
Someone is chasing him!
Although many people were killed by this weak-looking doctor during the hunt, in essence, someone was still chasing him.

Watson doesn't know the specific reason at this time, but he can clearly feel that it has something to do with the air crash disaster a few days ago.Of course, he definitely didn't know that Sherlock contacted His Royal Highness the Son that night, so his knowledge of the disaster, like all other civilians, all came from newspapers.

But at the same time, it is impossible for Watson to be confused by the seemingly true reports in the newspapers like other civilians. In fact, from the moment he saw the reports in the newspapers, he knew that this matter was not simple .Because on the day when the incident happened, the White Briar Security Company was notified that all members were going to a certain garden in the upper part of London, waiting for the condolences of a powerful government official.

That location was very delicate, it happened to be in the opposite direction of where the airship crashed, and the so-called 'consolation' was nothing more than a boring interview by a newspaper reporter.

And on the third day after the disaster.
On that rare sunny morning.

Watson did not report to the Whitethorn Security Company on time. He was a little worried about Sherlock and hadn't contacted him for three days. Watson had reason to suspect that this guy was caught in the airship crash and died in the An explosion in a gas line.

So, he went to Baker Street, and as a result... of course there was no one.

After that, Watson could only return to White Briar with a little worry, and when he opened the familiar door
A smell of blood penetrated into the nostrils.

In fact, at this moment, he should have realized that things had developed to a point beyond his imagination, but the ordinary life of the past few years made his thinking gradually approach rationality, which made him subconsciously unwilling to go Think about the most insane development.

He followed the smell of blood, walked through the familiar corridor, walked up to the second floor, and pushed away Miss Mary's office. There was no one there.

He took a few steps forward and pushed open the other doors. As a result, Mark was not there, his field team mate was not there, Reverend Thompson was not there, and everyone in Whitebrier was not there.

Until he followed the trace of blood again and came to the end of the corridor, in front of the storage room that was not often opened.

Then, slowly opened the door of the storage room
At this moment, he finally realized that the world is still so ridiculous.

Even in the most prestigious mechanical capital of the entire empire, in the bustling metropolis of London, in a civilized society surrounded by nouns such as technology, rationality, education, quality, law, fairness, etc., everything , still looks so ridiculous.

Otherwise, why can I see those familiar faces, all piled up together, piled up in the pool of blood they flowed out and gathered on the floor?It's like a scene that doesn't belong here, but is inserted abruptly, which looks so nondescript.

Watson just stared blankly for a few seconds, then closed the door.

He walked out of the white thorns, and in the cold winter wind, his expression didn't look any different. Some passing women were still attracted by his delicate face as usual, and some of them were more open-minded, so they simply voted on him. With a very suggestive gaze, Watson also politely passed these people as usual. No one noticed that the nails of this handsome man had sunk deep into the palm of his hand.

The familiar pain stimulated his nerves, reminding him of those past events and the thought that he had almost forgotten.
Once upon a time, he always felt that the root of all diseases did not come from those tiny bacteria or viruses, but from many more normal things.

It comes from those injustices, the estrangement between those classes, and the differences between people; from the hypocritical smiles of the nobles on their servants, from the increasingly congested traffic, but more and more expensive road maintenance costs; From the tip of the pyramid, from those who can influence the words of the newspaper;

Watson once mentioned in a chat with Sherlock that the path of medicine is difficult, but the essence of his words is that it is difficult to do "saving people".

After all, there is only one Nightingale, and in the whole world, there is only one girl who can influence the whole world just by "curing diseases".

And most doctors can only save a few people in their lifetime; it's not that these rescues are unimportant or unsacred, but simply not enough.

When you see a teenager who was pulled back from the death line by you, and finally took the road of stealing because of his life, and then was hanged. When the whole family raised all the money, a child who was finally cured, but in After colliding with a certain clergyman, she was ruthlessly thrown into the prison and became a floating corpse in the Thames River as a discharged patient; as a young girl overcame the disease, but could not overcome the increasingly heavy stall tax.
At that moment, all doctors will sincerely feel that the treatment they can give is so small and powerless.

Watson returned to his apartment building seemingly calmly, but he didn't rush up. Instead, he sat on a bench at the corner of the street for a while. Sure enough, he saw some people wandering repeatedly.

These people are killers.
There is someone, or a certain force, who wants to kill all the people in Whitethorn. Reminiscent of the airship disaster not long ago, Watson is sure that the Whitethorn Security Company may have unintentionally become an important link in a chain of clues. node, and in order to cover up the truth, some people started a very thorough cleaning activity.

Then, because I was late for work today, I became the drop of oil that was not cleaned in this cleaning.

He got up, went to the opposite grocery store, bought a hat, and exchanged his designer thick suit with the shop owner for his obviously outdated winter coat.

In this way, he covered up his too beautiful blond hair, walked into the alley opposite the apartment, and walked to the end.

There, there was an old man whom he often visited.

But at this time, the old man had disappeared, and the abandoned steam burner used to keep out the wind and rain was empty, but... on the dilapidated small table next to the bed, there was a scalpel.

A letter under the knife
Watson walked over and picked up the letter. The handwriting on the letter was not very good-looking, and it could be seen that the person who wrote it had not touched the pen for a long time, but between the lines, one could still feel a dazzling sharpness. strength.

[Last divination, I said, your life will soon become more exciting.

But I'm not quite sure what the word 'wonderful' means.

Thinking about it afterwards, what I actually mean is that you finally have a reason to do something you always wanted to do.

You are very similar to me when I was young, not only in wine tasting, but also in appearance, because you and I are good at some things that ordinary people are not good at.

So, I left this gift for you on my own initiative, as compensation for buying me a drink for so long, I hope you can use it smoothly.

I also hope that when you and I meet again, we can still talk and drink together.

—————To little friend, Holtz]

Watson stared at the letter in a daze. It was hard for him to imagine that the old alcoholic, who was usually extremely decadent and sloppy, would have such a hobby of writing letters.

And judging from the choice of words and sentences, this guy seems to have received a good education.

only.
He looked at the scalpel in his hand, and found that it was a brand that could be easily bought in medical equipment stores, and it only cost 20 pence a piece. Compared with the wine at night, it was not even as good as a bottle cap.

So he smiled and said angrily:

"How many times have I told you that my name is Watson, not Holtz."

After all, the scalpel disappeared with a slight turn of the fingertips. Watson fastened his hat and walked out of the alley against the wind.

And brushed past a patrolman disguised as a passerby.

At this moment, the patrolman keenly saw a trace of golden hair under the thick brim of the hat. He immediately noticed it and stretched out his hand to grab the man, but just as soon as he turned his head, he felt something. Something went down the windpipe.

He started coughing, then collapsed to the ground clutching his throat, a lot of blood oozed from between his fingers, and soon, staring unwillingly, he died in the snow.

A few hours later, under the night sky, Sherlock watched the scenes unfolding in front of him.

In the picture, Watson is being hunted by many people, but he is like a ghost, using various unimaginable ways to kill those who are being hunted one by one.

However, because he killed more and more people, more and more people hunted him down. These people began to form a group of five and were well equipped. Finally, it seemed that the steam armor of the security team began to appear in the picture. There were even a few contractors.

Sherlock's brows furrowed deeper and deeper.So Watson is being threatened with death?
"What's wrong with you?" Nightingale couldn't help asking when he noticed the strangeness of the man beside him.

"I'm leaving the hospital."

"What?" Nightingale was taken aback. She couldn't see the pictures in the other party's mind, so she felt that Sherlock's request was so sudden and without reason: "You can't go yet, your body hasn't Recovery, at least you have to wait another day, I should be able to recover some energy."

"I'm sorry, beautiful lady." Sherlock said, stretching out his hand to clasp the plaster on the other arm. With a force, there was a stabbing sound, and the piece of plaster was torn away. He squeezed his numb palm and turned around. about to leave.

"Despite the doctor's dissuasion, leave the hospital without authorization, and all the consequences will be borne by the patient!" Nightingale stood up and said very sternly.

"Really?" Sherlock hesitated: "Then if I am really injured again, I can only trouble you to heal me again at that time."

Before he finished speaking, his figure had disappeared into the night.

Nightingale's face was full of anger, but she was still extremely beautiful. How could she leave the hospital without permission in front of the doctor, and shamelessly asked the doctor to wait for him to come back and treat him again!

Looking at the direction in which Sherlock disappeared, Nightingale thought very angrily, if you really come back to me with injuries all over your body, you must order the nurses to use the largest needles when treating the illnesses! !

(End of this chapter)