Episode 32: What Are You Hiding?
Episode 22 What are you hiding?
Let's go back to five minutes before Lestrade left, when we were still discussing various details of the case.
All I could think about was how to invite Watson and Holmes to dinner together.
Although the original book doesn't mention how much Watson loves to eat, in many versions from the last century, Watson seems to enjoy food quite a bit.
The Soviet version of Watson impressed me the most.
He always scooped up the milk porridge slowly and deliberately, eating with composure and seriousness.
That bowl of porridge appeared so frequently that it made me curious, "Is it really that delicious?"
Later, after reading the comments section, I learned that the prop "milk porridge" was so tempting that it would be stolen and eaten every time we filmed a scene, which made me stock up on a lot of cans of peanut milk porridge as a meal replacement.
Speaking of food, I also bought a box of the "colorful cereal rings" that Jenny mentioned last time. The fruit flavor didn't taste natural; the artificial flavoring was very obvious. Then, to finish it, I made Herbs eat some with me too.
"...?"
Wait, where was I?
Oh, that's it!
Watson would definitely be happy to have dinner with me. Even if Holmes isn't interested in food, I can get Jenny to book concert tickets for tonight. He loves instrumental music so much…
We'll listen to music together tonight, and I'll sit between the two of us.
My God! I can't believe it!
If Fu fans find out about this, will I be attacked and killed, and even torn to pieces?
Haha, so happy.
I'm the kind of person who'll go out of my way to please anyone who makes me happy. And I'm not afraid of being rejected at all. But to be honest, I don't understand why anyone would refuse my invitations.
I'm so great!
Unfortunately, the dinner didn't happen.
As soon as Lestrade left, Holmes pulled a cell phone from his pocket. The pink case was covered in shiny, fake gemstones.
This doesn't look like something from Sherlock Holmes at all.
He actually found this phone, and spent so much time with Lestrade, yet he didn't say anything?
Under the astonished gazes of Watson and me, Holmes said slowly and deliberately, "There were too many things to remember."
Watson: "..."
I understood perfectly, and immediately replied, "It's because I appeared that your attention was diverted and your rhythm was disrupted, right? I get it."
A cold voice drifted from London: "You're too narcissistic."
I retorted confidently, "You don't understand people. Some people can have their entire day ruined by a small, unexpected event or the sudden appearance of someone. Besides, is this case really that important to Holmes?"
I don't believe it.
I remember once when I was in elementary school, I couldn't answer the teacher's question in class, and I felt off all day at school. Especially after I sat down and suddenly realized that the answer was very simple, I became even more absent-minded and couldn't remember what the teacher had said.
Just as I was convinced that this was the truth, Holmes calmly said, "That's not the case."
London neither mocked nor said much at this moment, but I knew what it was thinking was, "Look."
Without waiting for it to speak, I said, "As expected of Sherlock Holmes, you are indeed rational and clear-headed."
Holmes' voice was steady and clear as he laid out the clues one by one: "The body was found on the second floor of an abandoned house. It wasn't a place that a passerby could easily see. Yet, it was discovered in less than twenty-four hours. So the witnesses should be the key to this case."
He paused briefly, his gaze sweeping over Watson and me, assessing whether we were following his train of thought.
"But the Scotland Yard people ignored that. They simply asked a few questions and let them go."
"So, I went to see the witness."
"The children who live in the Audley compound. That empty house has long been a 'secret base' for the neighborhood kids. One of them, a boy named Luan, lives at number 46 and often hides there because of constant arguments at home. Last night around seven o'clock, another fierce fight broke out at his house. Luan fled to the empty house again, but from a distance, he saw a light coming from inside."
Holmes slowed his speech slightly, leading us into that dark night.
"He was startled and didn't dare to go any closer, so he just wandered around the area. As night fell, he had nowhere to go, so he circled around again and again. This time, the lights were off, but the door was still unlocked. So he went upstairs to his bedroom to rest."
"And that's how he discovered the body, and then called the police."
“Because the witness was a child, the police sent him home after questioning him.” Holmes took the cell phone with the fake gemstone inlaid in his pocket and gently placed it on the table. “And I went to talk to him. The cell phone was from him.”
As for why the phone ended up in a child's hands, he didn't say much, leaving only a silent blank.
“The surveillance footage in the vicinity yielded nothing,” Holmes continued, his fingertips tapping the table unconsciously. “So I asked the boy if he had seen any strange people or unusual vehicles.”
“The child was very honest. He said he didn’t see anyone.”
Holmes raised his eyes, his gaze sharp as a hawk's.
“A person determined to commit suicide wouldn’t remember to turn off the lights. I firmly believe the murderer was still at the scene. But a child who had been lingering nearby for a long time didn’t notice anything.”
His voice was low, but every word was clear: "This can only mean that the killer is either a complete social outcast, able to perfectly blend into the shadows..."
His gaze suddenly turned to me, locking onto my eyes.
"Either—"
The air suddenly became tense.
"He's a taxi driver."
As expected of Sherlock Holmes!
I had barely finished thinking when Holmes's gaze sharpened even more: "Milverton, you seem completely unsurprised. What do you know? What are you hiding?"
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Author's note: I originally planned to switch the focus to the taxi driver, but when I was setting up the plot, I discovered a lot of plot holes in Sherlock.
First, the deceased clearly did not die on the first floor of the abandoned building, so why would anyone discover the body? How did everyone notice the body so quickly?
Secondly, since the deceased was discovered immediately, there must have been witnesses. Why is there no information about the communication with the witnesses?
Thirdly, since the house was empty, there must have been dust inside. How could the murderer have left without leaving any trace? He couldn't have cleaned all the dust from the house. Why didn't the police notice the dust? 21st-century police wouldn't be so incompetent, especially since dust is very obvious, like walking on snow. (I need to think of a plausible way to fix this.)
The original novel is logically sound and never pushes the "suicide" storyline forward. I recommend everyone read the original novel.
See you tomorrow!!! [Hugs][Hugs][Hugs] I'll switch to third-person perspective tomorrow, that will speed up the plot! Thanks!
Still 20 random red envelopes!! Go to bed early!! [Thumbs up]
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