[Comprehensive] The correct posture of fooling the savior

221B Baker Street.

London has a rainy season all year round, and this day happened to be sunny.The heavy rain poured down, covering the whole of London in a white mist.

Watson walked into the small building at 221B Baker Street, put away the umbrella and put it aside.He just found a letter from the mailbox, and for some reason, he always felt that the letter was weird.

"Sherlock, there is a...well, a love letter for you today?" Watson said with more hesitation, and put the letter on the table. "Could it be that one of your crazy fans confessed to you?"

Sherlock raised his eyebrows, rarely being interested by this sentence, and glanced up at the letter on the table.With just one glance, his brows furrowed.

He put down what he was doing, walked quickly to the table, and picked up the pink envelope: "I don't want to have crazy fans like Moriarty."

"What... what?" Watson was taken aback. "Moriarty?"

The Moriarty who planned countless crimes behind his back?At the swimming pool last time, Watson and Sherlock met Moriarty together, and they were very impressed by the neurotic, high-intelligence, and changeable guy.That was also the first time Watson saw Sherlock fall into a disadvantage among so many cases.

"Don't open it!" Watson hurriedly stopped Sherlock, "You...you didn't check it? This is Moriarty's letter, what if he put poison or something else in it?"

Sherlock paused, then opened the envelope indifferently: "Don't worry, he won't. That would be too boring for him."

The heart-shaped seal was rudely ripped off, Sherlock opened the vulgarly colored envelope, but every detail marked my expensive envelope, and pulled out the letter paper inside.Watson came over to read the letter with Sherlock:

my dearest sherlock,

long time no see,

I found something very interesting,

very, very fun,

So I come here to share with you~

Are you willing to accept my commission?

I sent the information to your email~

By Little Jim who may want to empathize with someone else

"I think I should have come," Sherlock told Watson casually while folding the letter back, "Check the mailbox."

"What is this doing?" Watson frowned, a little puzzled, but still turned on the computer and logged into the mailbox as required. "What is Moriarty going to do?"

"The recent case, don't you think it's very similar? An extremely clean scene, extremely few witnesses, no fingerprints, handprints, bloodstains, nothing," Sherlock walked behind Watson, staring at the computer screen, "No They are similar for no reason, and although the perpetrators will be found to have no connection at the end of those cases, the hands behind the scenes are already obvious."

"You mean, Moriarty is the hands behind the back?" Watson glanced at Sherlock curiously.

"That's not the point. I already guessed that it might be Moriarty. You know, apart from him, few people have the ability to do these things - to monitor every crime scene, before the police arrive Remove all traces, so that the perpetrators, witnesses, and the police cannot discover his existence. And the guy I know who may have such control, except for Moriarty, no one else has the leisure to do these things, Sherlock rolled up his hands, and the computer screen was reflected in his gray-blue eyes, "What's more important, and what I'm more concerned about is—how did he do it."

"Monitor every crime scene? Simple, I can think of many ways."

"Let the perpetrators, witnesses, and the police not discover my existence? Simple, I can think of many ways."

"However, remove traces? And do it extremely effectively in a very short time?" Sherlock counted up to here, and his eyes began to shine, "Is this really not some black technology?"

He paused, and his expression eased: "Fortunately, the people behind the scenes will never be willing to be a silent cleaner forever. I have been looking forward to this signal for a long time."

A smug smile played on Sherlock's mouth.He stood upright, watching the mailbox log in and the latest unread emails being opened.In the text of the email, it is written in fancy fonts:

Have you received my gift yet?

Did you have a good time?

Let's start the next game!

"Great presents; had a great time;" Sherlock said softly, the smile never fading away, "You're right, it's time for the next game."

Watson glanced at him strangely. Sherlock seemed to have never heard of it. He just stared at the computer screen and said like a declaration of war: "GameStart."

————————————————————————————

Death Eater Manor, Harry's room.

Determined to make a big deal, Harry spread out a blank parchment in front of him.He was a little timid to have to reason on his own when Hermione wasn't around.Of course, his self-confidence has grown a lot during this period, so much so that when he looks back at his original self, he even feels a little confused: Is it really me who is so impulsive and reckless?

Harry began to sort out his thoughts, and listed all the doubts on the parchment: the painful scar must have a mysterious connection with the Dark Lord, whether it is the prophecy, the frequency of scar pain, the behavior of Professor Dumbledore or the Dark Lord points to this.

Professor Snape, who treated his scars, obviously knew some secret. This secret directly led to a change in his attitude. Due to the tangled relationship between Professor Snape and his parents, he can barely think that this secret is beneficial to him. .Besides, the secret may have something to do with the word "illusion"...

Words were listed on the parchment, and pointing arrows were drawn one after another until the entire parchment became a mess.Harry stopped writing, stared at the messy parchment, and sighed helplessly.

The past of Scar involves 16 years ago, and the information during that time is too messy and complicated. Most of them are celebrating his surviving or telling the chaos of the war, and there is no useful statement related to Scar at all; It’s just that reading some books on magic scars brought by Professor Snape has no effect at all. Just looking at the description, you can tell that there is no scar like him that deeply involves the caster and the recipient, and even the memory fragments communicate with each other. Degree;

And it is too difficult for those who know the secret recently to pry their mouths open. Let’s take a look at the secret insiders: the founder of the Order of the Phoenix, Professor Dumbledore who has lived for hundreds of years; the founder of the Death Eaters, the king of Slytherin, the Dark Lord Professor Snape, a double-faced agent who walks in the black and white circles but is unharmed.Which one is a good cliché!Which one is easy to match!

If all the information is sealed and all insiders keep their mouths shut, where else can we find the truth?

Harry crumpled the parchment with his head down, picked up his wand and disappeared without a trace.After destroying the corpses and traces, he pondered for a while facing the clean desktop, and decided to change his mind.

If a secret is difficult to obtain, it must be because there are too few sources of information.If sources of information from the wizarding world are limited, why not turn to the Muggle world?You know, there is a ready-made guy who is extremely capable in surveillance and secret exploration, and who is so boring that he will go after all the things that he can define as "interesting"...

With a pure smile on his face, Harry stopped Barty Crouch Jr. who was rushing past the Death Eater Manor: "Mr. Barty! Long time no see!"

Little Barty stopped in his tracks, and subconsciously returned a smiling face. After all, he was a student who had taught him hand in hand, and... and recently there was a very scary big news.You know, everyone is afraid of bedtime, right?

"Long time no see, Harry." Little Barty said gently.

"How are you doing recently?" Harry asked casually, as if looking for something to say, with a calm attitude as if he was just talking to his former tutor.

"It's okay, I'm always so busy," Little Barty shrugged, this question seemed to bring back very bad memories in him, his face turned black, "If the Muggle world doesn't add anything new to me The workload is even better. Hey, you know, Mr. Moriarty always has all kinds of novel ideas, and it is really tiring to deal with him."

"I'm always startled and excited, and when inspiration suddenly comes, I'll be pulled to the crime scene to mislead me. I was bullied so badly by him, and I thought he might really have good intentions—of course, I later found out that there was nothing at all. Good intentions! His heart is black!..." Little Barty began to complain endlessly about Moriarty's various novel ideas. It was obvious that these words had been held in his mind for a long time, and he finally found a suitable one ( tree) elephant (hole) to confide, once he speaks he cannot stop.

Harry's smile stiffened.Taking advantage of the moment when little Barty stopped talking, he quickly inserted the question he had wanted to ask a long time ago: "By the way, what has Mr. Moriarty been doing recently?"

"Recently?" Little Barty breathed a sigh of relief, "Recently he's been looking for trouble with a private detective. He has other priorities, and this finally frees me..."

Wait, private eye?Harry's eyes lit up, as if he had found some new direction of exploration.As far as his shallow understanding of the Muggle world—after all, he doesn’t have a deep understanding of the dark side of the Muggle world, it’s just hearsay—a capable private investigator is capable of investigating all the past...

"What private detective?"

"It is said that he is a guy with a very high IQ." Little Batty shrugged. "I didn't pay much attention to it. It should be called Sherlock Holmes?"

"Sherlock Holmes?"

"He's also a weird guy," Barty Jr. said, "to the outside world, he claims to be a consulting detective, and he only accepts all kinds of interesting cases. Moriarty has always paid attention to him."

Harry blinked and showed a sweet smile: "Mr. Batty, could you please give me his information?"

The author has something to say: Little Theater

Juan Fu: I finally don't just live in small theaters.