what do you think sherlock

Chapter 4 Secret Letter to the Prime Minister and the Earl

Detective Lestrade had heard about it before he came, but it wasn't until the moment he stepped into the bar that he really realized how difficult the case in front of him was.

"One murdered with poison, and two committed suicide after being shot. Which genius brought the case to me? Gregson is also at work today!"

Lestrade walked into the bar angrily, looked around, and immediately noticed Sherlock in the crowd:
"Mr. Holmes, it is astonishing that this is the fastest you have ever been to the scene of a crime."

"Being a party is indeed the fastest way to get involved in a case." Sherlock shrugged.

"This is Detective Lestrade," Sherlock looked at Di Renjie and Little Stanford, "one of the best detectives in the Metropolitan Police Department."

"Thank you. It would be even better if one of them could be removed. Come on ladies and gentlemen, I need to get a general idea of ​​the situation."

It can be seen that Sherlock is very familiar with the police detective representing the government, so Di Renjie and Angelina also cooperated with each other and told the story of the incident.

After Lestrade listened, he asked a sheriff to take several police officers to a nearby private clinic to investigate Mark's whereabouts, and then he looked at everyone:

"Everyone, although I personally trust you very much, for the safety of the citizens of London, I still need everyone to go to Scotland Yard..."

"Lestrade, if I were you, I would dismiss this idea first." Sherlock took a step forward.

"Mr. Holmes, although we have some friendship, we still have to conduct official business."

Sherlock smiled, without saying anything else, and walked to the bodies of the two Slavs, "Both of them had gunshot wounds on their right hands, and the real fatal injuries all came from poison."

"Obviously," said Lestrade noncommittally.

But Di Renjie immediately understood what Sherlock wanted to say. Obviously, such a resolute suicide by taking poison is definitely not something ordinary gangsters can do. In Wu Zhou in Di Renjie's previous life, only those few fearful organizations could do it. Such dead soldiers can be bred.

Sherlock squatted down, opened Goya's mouth and looked,

"Sure enough, a broken denture,"

"What do you mean?" Lestrade also came up.

"The method of suicide by spies is favored by the Germans, Russians, Austrians and Ottomans."

When Lestrade heard these words, the anxiety and annoyance on his face lessened:

"You mean that Regent's Park will take up the case."

"Of course, and I reckon they're on their way now," Sherlock said lightly, "John, come and help me."

"Me?" Di Renjie walked over in a little surprise, he asked himself that he hadn't shown the ability to detect cases yet, and couldn't figure out why Sherlock asked him to help.

"Do you need me to do anything?"

"Let's find out together, there must be a surprise hidden in this Mr. Duckley."

"You mean, what those two Slavs want is still on him." Di Renjie immediately understood what Sherlock was looking for. That Mark killed Duckley with poison, and had no chance of touching Duckley's body at all.

Besides, this is a bar, not a hotel, and Duckley would definitely not let that thing leave his body during his lifetime.

But this doesn't explain Mark's motive for killing people, unless... Di Renjie narrowed his eyes, as if thinking of something, smiled slightly, and squatted on the ground to search like Sherlock.

"What are you looking for?" Lestrade warned, "It's better not to destroy the evidence. The people in the Secrecy Bureau are not as good as me."

"Shhh,"

Before Lestrade finished his words, he heard the sound of cloth being torn.

"Damn it," he stepped forward and was about to yell, when Sherlock made a silent gesture to him,
"Shh,"

Not knowing why, Lestrade resentfully swallowed the swear words that were about to blurt out.

Di Renjie raised the cloth in his hand. The cloth was torn from the inner pocket of Duckley's suit, and it was carefully sewn into the pocket. A letter was written in black ink on the cloth.

"Excellent, how did you find out." Sherlock asked with great interest.

"It shouldn't be so thick." Di Renjie looked at the position of the suit pocket, and compared the approximate thickness with gestures.

"As expected of a sharpshooter, I knew that a person with such spear skills would never be content with an ordinary life." Sherlock pointed.

Di Renjie couldn't help laughing. He didn't expect that Sherlock could judge a person's heart through marksmanship, but he really didn't misjudge the person.

"Let's take a look first, what is written in this letter that killed three people." Di Renjie glanced at Sherlock, and then glanced at everyone.

"Let me take a look, in case any secrets are involved." Lestrade also squatted beside the two.

Sherlock glanced at the fabric, shook his head,

"I'm afraid everyone present, no one will see the difference."

"What do you mean?" Lestrade took the cloth handed over by Di Renjie, and saw that it was written in a very correct font:

"Dear Prime Minister, I am very glad that you can accept our proposal. We are very grateful for your helping hand. As for the key gentleman, we have also obtained his approval. We believe that our common goal will soon achieved."

It was signed by a man named Peter, obviously a pseudonym, and a seal was also affixed.

"The Supreme Privy Council of the Russian Empire also involves Mr. Prime Minister, is this a joke?" Lestrade looked at Sherlock.

"As far as I know, the official seal of the Russian Supreme Privy Council does have such a style, but the most important reason is not this," Sherlock said in a calm but solemn tone,

"A false letter is not worth the lives of three people."

"So, Prime Minister, there is a secret deal with the Russians. I didn't expect the rumors to be true." Lestrade murmured, and then quickly folded the cloth in his hand, for fear that the fourth person would see it.

"There's no need to jump to conclusions so quickly. The content of this letter is too vague and doesn't really explain anything." Di Renjie tried to comfort Lestrade, who seemed a little bit broken.

"Anyway, we're all in big trouble," Lestrade wanted to cry, and now he was competing with Gregson for the position of superintendent. Once this incident happened, he might have no future.

"Boom," the three of them were still thinking about how to deal with this difficult "letter", but the door of the bar was opened again, and a gentleman who looked to be in his 40s, with a few strands of gray hair on his temples, walked in. He came in, followed by several police officers trying to stop him.

"Sir, this is the scene of the crime," Lestrade stood up a little annoyed. He was still thinking about how to dilute the impact of the letter on his front feet, but there were people waiting to disrupt the situation on his back feet.

Di Renjie sighed in his heart, every time the door opened, things would get more complicated, and he didn't know what kind of "surprise" the person who opened the door would bring him.

"Sorry, Inspector, I didn't mean to disturb," the man bowed slightly, looking very sincere and polite, "I was just ordered to visit the only daughter of the Earl of Beaconsfield."

"The only daughter of the Earl of Beaconsfield?" The man's words instantly attracted the attention of everyone present. Obviously, the Earl of Beaconsfield was by no means an ordinary nobleman.

At this time, there were only two people present who hadn't reacted yet.

One is Di Renjie, who is somewhat insensitive to common sense because of time travel, and the other is Sherlock, who is not interested in politics.

"The Earl of Beaconsfield?" Sherlock looked at Di Renjie who was also a little confused, but the next moment, Di Renjie found the answer in his memory.

Benjamin Disraeli, the first Earl of Beaconsfield, the former prime minister and one of the greatest prime ministers in the history of Great Britain, the current leader of the Conservative Party, is a real big man in this era.

(End of this chapter)