what do you think sherlock

Chapter 7 Pushing open the mysterious door
The name Charles Darwin seemed to have some kind of magical power. The moment Sherlock solved the mystery, the entire bar fell into silence.

There is no other reason, but this name has enough weight for the Britons of this era. He is so popular that even a traveler like Di Renjie can think of it immediately.

"Papa," in the silence, Di Renjie took the lead in applauding,

Afterwards, everyone also made admiration and surprise voices one by one.

At this time, only Lestrade was in the most complicated mood. The shock was mixed with a little happiness. Fortunately, this case would be handed over to the Bureau of Secrecy because it involved foreign spies. It would embarrass him and Scotland Yard.

"It's very wonderful, Mr. Holmes. I have heard your name from some old friends, but to be honest, you are more outstanding than the rumors." Old Mr. Charles said with emotion,

"My pleasure," Sherlock said with a slight bow.

"My wife is a devout believer, so I have been working hard to ease the relationship with the church." Charles' tone was full of helplessness and melancholy.

"It seems you have failed."

"Yes, I failed."

Charles' voice gradually lowered until it fell silent, as if he had fallen into a depressed mood, but this mood didn't last long, and ended because of an unexpected visitor.

"Boom," the door of the bar was pushed open again.

"To be honest, I'm a little scared when I hear the door opening now." Little Stanford murmured.

Everyone's eyes shifted to the gate in an instant, and five people in uniform black coats and round caps came in.

"Sorry for disturbing everyone's pleasure," the leading man glanced at the crowd and the three corpses on the ground, "I'm afraid the detective session is coming to an end."

Before everyone could react, the man looked at Sherlock again,
"Sorry, we didn't mean to eavesdrop just now,"

He shrugged, and then took out a document from his pocket, which said the National Secret Service of Great Britain.

"You're finally here," Lestrade let out a deep breath, feeling relieved.

"It's these annoying guys again," Sherlock said helplessly. The people in the Secrecy Bureau are not as easy to deal with as the police. They can always label all kinds of key evidence as state secrets, and then hide the truth along the way. .

And, crucially, the Bureau of Secrets is very good at solving problems by addressing the people who ask them, compared to the police, which are always under the scrutiny of the public.

*
*
"Mr. Watson, according to our investigation and your dictation just now, we don't think you have anything to do with this case."

"Thank you," Di Renjie sat on the wooden chair, and behind the table in front of him were two Secret Service officers in black coats.

"Please sign this confidential document. Regarding what happened here today, we hope you can keep silent, otherwise we will hold you accountable."

A man in a black coat handed over a contract in black and white. Di Renjie took it, examined it, found nothing wrong, and signed it decisively.

"Thank you for your cooperation, and please leave us a mailing address."

"I live in the hotel next door, but I plan to visit the shared apartment with Mr. Holmes in the past two days."

"You share the rent with Mr. Holmes?" The black coat was a little surprised, but he returned to normal immediately.

"Yes."

"Then we know, you can go back to the hotel to rest, here is your gun."

Di Renjie nodded, stood up, took his revolver, and walked out the door, wondering if these people had been observing Sherlock, or why did he not pay attention after he said that he would rent with Sherlock? He didn't ask about the address again, and he seemed to know where Sherlock lived.

"John," Sherlock and Little Stanford greeted Di Renjie when he came out, "They didn't make things difficult for you, did they?"

"Of course," Di Renjie smiled lightly, "it's just that he was interrogated a few more times because of the shooting."

"They must be jealous of your amazing marksmanship."

"I have to say that people who come back from the battlefield are different." Little Stanford and Sherlock praised.

"People can always unleash their unimaginable potential in a crisis," Di Renjie shrugged, "but the matter is finally over."

"I may not dare to go to the bar in the past year," Little Stanford said with lingering fear. Today's experience was a bit too exciting for an honest and responsible person like him.

"I think it's quite interesting. I was worried about wasting time." Sherlock looked at Di Renjie. "Then let's say goodbye. How about meeting directly at 221B Baker Street at noon tomorrow? The house I plan to rent is over there."

"Aren't you meeting at the hospital?" Little Stanford looked at Sherlock strangely.

"I'm not in the mood to go to work tomorrow," Sherlock said with a somewhat comical smirk.

"No problem, see you tomorrow." Di Renjie waved goodbye to the two, walked out of Claytree's Bar, and walked towards the hotel.

It was still noon when I came out, but it was getting late when I went back at this time. London in January was bitingly cold, and only the gas lamps lit on both sides of the street could bring a little bit of warmth.

"Mr. Watson," suddenly, a familiar old voice sounded from behind Di Renjie.

"Dahl..." Di Renjie turned his head and saw Charles, who was wearing a thick coat and had a big white beard, walking behind him.

"Just call me Charles," the old gentleman smiled kindly. "Does Mr. Watson also live at the Strand Hotel?"

"Exactly, don't you too?"

"It's such a coincidence," Charles said with a chuckle, "I also live there, in fact, I live there for a day or two every month."

"So it is."

"Is it a bit strange?" Charles could hear the curiosity in Di Renjie's tone, "Actually, that lady from the Disraeli family is my student. I will come over every month to check on her study and answer some questions."

"Unexpectedly," Di Renjie couldn't help laughing, he thought of Mark who was lurking in the assassination and also thought of Duckley who died unexpectedly.

"What a special lady," he lamented.

"Angelina is indeed somewhat rebellious." Charles shook his head with a smile. "Mr. Watson, thank you and Mr. Holmes for your efforts just now. You have helped me a lot."

"Please don't say that, we didn't help you with anything." Di Renjie's words were sincere. First, Charles himself was a victim, and second, as Charles, there were some important people who were willing to help him out of the quagmire.

"It's about Mark's identity, and some issues about emotions, beliefs, and the future." Charles said vaguely, but Di Renjie felt the sincerity and embarrassment in his words.

"Even so, you should be more grateful to Sherlock," Di Renjie said modestly.

"Mr. Watson, I have traveled around the world on a warship, traveled to countless countries, and met countless people." Charles did not directly follow Di Renjie's words, "I know what kind of people are really capable, and Hua I can see, Mr. Sheng, that your talents are by no means inferior to Mr. Holmes'."

"You're too much." Di Renjie was rarely surprised.

"And there is one thing, you are more powerful than Mr. Holmes," Charles said, ignoring Di Renjie's self-effacing,
"You are reliable."

After Charles finished speaking, he stopped and stared at Di Renjie like a peaceful sea, and Di Renjie looked back at him like a bright and cold moon.

"Thank you for your compliment."

"Mr. Watson, you are worth it," Charles said sincerely. "I have also prepared a thank you gift for you and Mr. Holmes. Please don't rush to refuse. I believe you will be interested."

Charles' words aroused Di Renjie's curiosity,
"What kind of gift? I have to say, you have made me look forward to it."

"A key," Charles said a very strange word, and then he took out a reagent bottle from his arms, which contained something that looked like liquid or gas, emitting a golden glow, faintly You can also see the swirling golden sand in it.

He blinked at Di Renjie, as if admiring Di Renjie's shock,
"A key that can open the door of mystery."

(End of this chapter)