big devil holmes

Chapter 33 Pushpins
"Da da da" footsteps sounded behind him.
Sherlock felt that staring at the thumbtack was a bit uncomfortable, so he shifted his gaze to the portrait of Nightingale on the wall.

In the next second, the doctor named John Watson came into sight. He straightened the folds of his shirt cuffs, and then sat on the other side of the desk. But he didn't speak immediately.

It should be because he doesn't want to disturb the people in front of him admiring the girl in the portrait.

Sherlock quickly realized this, smiled and looked back and said, "It seems that there will be a portrait of [Nightingale] hanging in every doctor's office."

"Of course, she is an angel and should be worshiped by all medical workers." Watson said, looking at the painting for about a second or two: "But you and I both know that people worship her. , definitely not only because of her noble character and medical skills, but also partly because...she is so beautiful."

Nightingale's beauty is naturally beyond doubt. In fact, this girl should be regarded as the most beautiful woman in the entire empire. She is so beautiful that if one day, this girl and a certain man break out in love, then the next day One day, this man will die tragically bearing the jealousy and curse of all the men in the empire.

"I like beautiful things, and Lord Nightingale is really the most beautiful person I can imagine." Watson's tone carried the most sincere praise.

Sherlock also nodded, although everyone has a different definition of beauty, but for the beauty of this girl, people in the entire empire may be able to reach a tacit unification.

But at the same time, he also noticed a small detail;
That is. Although the doctor in front of him speaks and talks like a best gentleman, he seems to have a strange little habit. He always likes to stick the index finger and thumb of his left hand together, as if he is gently kneading something.

"Now there are notices on the streets and alleys. After more than a month, Lord Nightingale, who is traveling around the empire, will pass through London. I really don't know how excited the citizens of London will be at that time."

"I promise, the chapel will be empty that morning."

"Hahaha----"

Watson undoubtedly knows how to shorten the distance with other people, he said jokingly, and then took out a paper full of handwriting from the drawer:

"So Mr. Sherlock, let's start the psychological evaluation, shall we?"

"of course."

After obtaining permission, Watson took out a pen and prepared to take notes.

During this period, the index finger and thumb of his left hand never separated.

"First question, if you encounter a citizen of the empire who is being attacked by a demon, and you have no weapons around you, you will:
Option One: Escape.

Option two:
Then comes the second question."

His articulation is very clear, and his attitude is very serious. The two of them completed about three or four questions.

But at this moment.
Sherlock hesitated for a moment, and then said in a low voice without beginning or end:

"You're boring, aren't you?"

Watson was taken aback for a moment, and raised his beautiful eyes.

"Maybe it's presumptuous of me to ask directly, but do you really want to do this kind of useless test?"

The doctor in front of me is very handsome, very professional, and has a very serious work attitude. Even the sitting posture, dressing, and conversation are so meticulous, so no matter what angle you look at, he is that kind. You must take this psychological assessment seriously. A person who works hard.

But the detective in front of him asked such a question abruptly.

boring?

How can people who work hard be given the word 'boring'?It's a little disrespectful anyway.

So Watson still didn't answer, which caused the two of them to look at each other across a desk for more than ten seconds.

During this time, Watson's eyes stared at each other first, then slowly narrowed until they curved into a beautiful arc similar to a smile.

But almost no pupil leaked.

After another half a minute, he finally said slowly, "It's really a little boring."

"That's right." Sherlock leaned back lazily on the chair: "In fact, this kind of test, as long as you use your brain a little, you can know what kind of result each option represents. You should be able to see it, I I belong to the kind of people who can use their brains a little bit. So, why don't we just stop here, I'll go home, you can do something more meaningful, and when you're done, just fill me in with anything you think you can get away with. The score is fine, how about it, bro?"

Watson's smiling expression became more and more beautiful. He tilted his head, revealing a moment of cuteness, but he could feel that his gaze was observing Mr. Detective opposite him through the narrowed narrow gap:

"It's a bit out of process, but it's a good idea;" he said, then hesitated a little.

But finally responded to Sherlock's address:

"brother."

In fact, the word brother is quite strange.

With incomplete statistics, if two people do something very 'decent' together, such as planting trees together, praying to the Holy Light together, catching a thief together, etc., the 'brotherhood' between them is actually not Not so solid.

On the contrary, if the two peeked at the nun taking a bath together, and were chased by the sheriff for setting up a stall in the Holy Light Square together, and passed a small note full of answers behind them during the convent final exam;
Then the brotherhood between these two people will become very solid.

People are such cheap creatures. When they show each other a righteous or moral side, they will attribute it to a disguise for no reason in their hearts; but once two people show each other a dirty side, even just a little It will greatly gain the favor of each other.

Therefore, morality is likely to be a false product of wisdom, and the human heart always yearns for the dirty, promiscuous, selfish side.

So, Sherlock and Watson smiled at each other, and shook hands like "heroes see the same thing".

"Goodbye."

"No need to send it."

"of course."

In this way, Sherlock saved more than half an hour of boring time and left the White Briar Security Company.

And the doctor named John Watson was still sitting on the chair after he left the office, with that smile still on his face, the index finger and thumb of his left hand were still sticking together, kneading gently
"It seems to be a very interesting person." He muttered to himself, and finally stopped the movement of his hands, and then separated his two fingers.

And on the fingertip of the index finger, there was actually a thumbtack inserted root by root.

Watson pulled out the thumbtack as if nothing had happened, and brought out a lot of blood, then put the tip between his lips, and licked off the blood on it.

After finishing all this, he seemed a bit disappointed, as if he hadn't enjoyed it, he inserted the thumbtack into his bloody finger again.

Thinking of the detective who left just now, and the other party's eyes that almost see through him.
"Life. Will it become more interesting?"

he murmured.

(End of this chapter)