what do you think sherlock

Chapter 90 The Attacking Old Man
London, St Bartholomew's Hospital.

"What are you talking about, I don't seem to understand it?" Forensic doctor Jasmine looked at Sherlock in front of her with some hesitation.

"Actually, I don't quite understand it. I think the field of forensic identification can be taught by me, but John thinks your knowledge is more systematic and professional."

Sherlock showed a trademark smirk, and then silently concealed the fact that he was collectively complained by the students of the White Tower for swearing too many times in class:
"Plus he said you are more patient and more like a teacher."

"But I've never been a teacher before, and I still teach so many people." Jasmine still hesitated.

"Don't worry, they are a group of smart and proactive students, I personally think they are much easier to deal with than those guys in the medical school." Sherlock winked at Jasmine.

"Okay." Jasmine nodded reluctantly, "Then I can try it out, by the way, what kind of content do I need to prepare?"

"Let's mainly talk about the manifestations of corpses under different causes of death. In addition, we can also involve some methods of identifying traces of non-fatal injuries." Sherlock suggested.

"Okay," Jasmine nodded, "Do I need to bring teaching aids?"

Hearing this, Sherlock turned his eyes around the experimental table, scalpel, bone cutter, half-dissected corpse, and human brain soaked in formalin, and then asked curiously:
"Which teaching aid are you referring to?"

Jasmine looked at Sherlock with some surprise:

"Why do you ask that? If you want to study hard, of course you have to bring them all."
-
"The Baker Street Detachment of the Detective Team gathers here," a half-grown child raised the newspaper in his hand, and several boys who were also dressed as newsboys looked around vigilantly, and then gathered around the child holding the newspaper .

"Did Mr. Detective release a new mission?" A boy raised his hand and asked.

"It can also be said," the boy holding the newspaper repeated what Sherlock told him in an uncertain tone: "Mr. Detective asked us to go to the secret base in batches to study."

"Cool!" A boy whistled: "We actually have a secret base, I didn't even know it before."

"Actually, I just found out about it just now." The boy in the lead smiled mischievously, and said with some embarrassment:
"Anyway, since Mr. Detective summoned us, it must be a very important matter."

"Okay, let's go now!" several boys shouted.

30 minute later.

On the boulevard in Regent's Park, several boys looked at each other and looked at each other.

"What's the matter, don't you like this place?" Sherlock felt that he had found a place with a very good scenery, why these little devils don't seem very happy?

The leading little boy looked around the park with a somewhat complicated expression, and then glanced wordlessly at the stack of test papers in Sherlock's hand.

[First of all, this is just an ordinary public park, not worthy of being called a secret base; secondly, doing test papers is not worthy of being called a task]

The little boy hesitated to speak, but in the end he suppressed the truth:
"No, we like this secret base very much."

He said with a forced smile.

Boys: (゜▽゜;)
"That's good," Sherlock smiled with satisfaction. "Actually, this is really a secret base. If you encounter danger, you can go here to hide."

"In addition," he raised the stack of papers in his hand, very rare, and said in a serious tone: "These things need you to complete here, and they are all related to your safety. Although your tasks It is to collect information by the way after work, but there is still the possibility of facing danger, I hope that no matter when you are, you will firmly remember what I said to you today, and everything is about your own safety. "
-
The White Pagoda, the top of the East Pagoda.

"Stick," said the match across the rough surface of the paper, and with a slight sound, a tiny flame burst out.

For old smokers who are addicted to smoking, just hearing the sound of the match rubbing, the brain has unconsciously started to secrete dopamine.

"Huh," took a deep breath of the cigarette, and the burning cigarette butt was like a scarlet eye in the dimly lit room.

Lamb let out a puff of smoke, leaned comfortably and lazily on the window sill, and said to Mycroft, who was standing upright by his side, "Don't you want one?"

"Thank you, but I've been controlling my nicotine intake recently." Mycroft declined politely, watching the crowds coming and going under the White Tower.

"Hey," Lamb said with a chuckle, "You control carbohydrates, control sweets, and now you have to control nicotine, Mycroft, your life like this is too boring."

Mycroft raised his eyebrows slightly and showed a polite smile: "In fact, on the contrary, the reason why I don't rely on these things is because even without them, my life is already interesting enough."

"You're so confident, Mycroft, your character is still the same as before." Lamb took another deep breath of the cigarette.

Mycroft did not answer, nor did he intend to continue the topic.

After being silent for more than ten seconds, Mycroft stared at the crowd below and said:
"John Watson is a very powerful guy. I have to admit that I thought I had overestimated him before, but I didn't expect that he could still surprise me."

Lamb narrowed his eyes slightly, appearing more serious than before:
"Are you sure that he has no political experience before? It took 10 days to build a department from scratch, and he was even organized and able to handle it with ease. This ability is simply amazing"

"No, he has no political experience at all," McCoff rarely showed a puzzled expression: "His past is very simple, from family to school, and then to the army, all the experiences are clearly visible, but there is nothing in it. It's about politics."

"Then there is only one explanation," said Lamb wistfully. "This is a genius, a real genius."

"Yeah," Mycroft smiled, "but it's a good thing for us. You see, he solved so many problems with ease, but it saved us a lot of worry."

Mycroft pointed to the new staff downstairs who were preparing to go to the conference hall for classes, and smiled.

Suddenly, his smile froze.

"What's wrong?" Lamb keenly noticed the change in Mycroft's expression.

"What is that?" Mycroft pointed to a square glass cabinet below which was slowly carried into the White Tower, causing quite a commotion.

"I'll look for it, there should be an application record." The cigarette butt caught between Lamb's fingers accidentally fell to the ground, but he didn't have the heart to pay attention at this time.

"I found it," Lamb found a document from the messy desktop, which recorded the list of materials that entered and exited the White Tower today.

"How did it record it?" Mycroft looked at the glass cabinet downstairs, which was stuffed with ice cubes and a human-shaped object. Inexplicably, he suddenly felt that he needed a cigarette at this moment.

"Watson said this is today's teaching aid," said Lamb in disbelief.

(End of this chapter)