Chapter 30, Episode 20: I want to sit with you...
Episode 20 "I want to sit with you"
I actually find every Sherlock Holmes I meet interesting.
This IP has long been deeply rooted in people's hearts, just like Sun Wukong in "Journey to the West". Even though I know there are many modified versions of "Journey to the West" on the market, as long as I see the "Journey to the West" theme, especially the image of the Great Sage Equaling Heaven, I still can't help but stop and savor it.
The reason I'm so happy with this version of Sherlock Holmes isn't just because it's so well-developed, so good that online reviews say it's "unprecedented and unparalleled," but because in this 1984 version, he's not the one who ends my life.
Being killed by your idol is certainly sad, but it can also be exciting, and even interesting.
What I really resent is the "protagonist halo" mechanic. It means that in a story, no matter what I do, I might be destined to be erased meaninglessly. That's just so boring.
Therefore, in my narrative, I reject any form of "meaninglessness".
People shouldn't just live to survive; they should live for themselves and do things that they find interesting.
The presence of Sherlock Holmes in front of me made this possibility possible, so all sorts of excitement welled up inside me.
London couldn't stand my unusual commotion today, and my constant touching of the Chinese people, so she said, "When you go back, have Herbers prepare some baked cream spinach or spinach soup for you, and eat some bananas too. You need to replenish your magnesium."
"I won't eat it!"
If I had prepared it, I definitely would have eaten it.
But I don't want to appear too obedient.
After all, if I really didn't want to eat it, I would just say I wasn't in the mood for it today. Then I wouldn't mention London again.
London: "Fine, I won't eat it then."
London casually added, "I'll be responsible for texting Herbers to tell him to put it on the table and not give it to you."
It can actually do a lot of things; it can survive and thrive even in unseen virtual networks. For example, I once had it interfere with the signals of bank robbers during a major heist, and it did so with ease.
But I don't usually rely on it to do things.
I don't believe that there's anything I can't completely handle, given that I'm already incredibly wealthy.
If one day it loses its ability or function, then knowing London will never be a loss for me.
"Then I definitely have to eat it!"
London: "I'll do it anyway, so why did you have to pull this stunt?"
Me: "I want to talk to you more."
London was speechless after what I said, which made me laugh.
Hehe, I'm happy.
*
The ground floor of 221B, which is what we in China often call the first floor, mainly includes the landlord's bedroom, storage room, small kitchen, laundry room, and perhaps a door leading to the small garden at the back.
As soon as I walked in, I found that all the doors on the first floor were tightly closed, as if deliberately refusing any unnecessary visits.
Go up the stairs to reach the true core space of 221B.
The room has a living room, two separate bedrooms, a bathroom, and a small kitchenette. In the center of the kitchen stands an old wooden table piled high with chemical equipment, while an alcohol lamp stands silently among them.
If you've seen the 1984 version of Sherlock Holmes, you'll probably remember the scene where he casually blows out the alcohol lamp.
I couldn't help but exclaim, "If I could, I'd love to have him demonstrate blowing out an alcohol lamp for me right here."
London immediately intervened, saying, "Are you crazy? I can already foresee you getting burned."
While it continued its rambling, I turned to Holmes, my tone blatantly encouraging: "Mr. Holmes, I've seen protagonists in novels blow out alcohol lamps. Can you do that too?"
Holmes's expression remained completely unchanged.
"The novel also describes how the protagonist can jump from a tall building and emerge unharmed."
He looked at me, his tone flat to the point of being almost indifferent.
"Can you do that too?"
That sentence was like a bucket of cold water poured on me, but it didn't dampen my spirits at all; in fact, it made me even more excited and clear-headed: "I can actually eat the flame of an alcohol lamp."
London: "..."
Holmes: "..."
Watson, who had been listening to our conversation, suddenly widened his eyes.
I explained with feigned seriousness, "You all know that some people can swallow fire, right?"
Seeing that everyone's eyes were on me, even London was listening intently, I couldn't help but feel smug.
"The principle behind swallowing flames is actually quite simple; the key is never courage, but precise control."
“We need to reduce the oxygen concentration in our mouths to lower the temperature of the flame. So, before I swallow the flame from an alcohol lamp, I hold my breath and exhale some of it to ensure the oxygen concentration in my mouth before swallowing the flame completely.”
After saying that, Watson gave a dry laugh. "Is that so?"
London expressed its disapproval through silence.
Holmes, however, walked away indifferently, as if to say that he had wasted his time listening to such nonsense.
Honestly, this indifference makes me happier than praise.
I followed him and sat down opposite Holmes. In the backlight, his sharp eyes looked like an unfathomable fog.
Before he could speak, I asked directly, "How do you know I'm Milverton? I don't recall ever allowing anyone to share my photos online."
I added, "I know you because I ran into your brother Mycroft yesterday."
I don't intend to explain exactly how I know him. After all, Milverton is an intelligence operative, so it's not surprising that he knows Sherlock, who lives in 221B, and Watson, who will be his roommate.
I didn't want to engage in any witty banter with him, testing him and trying to outwit him.
Holmes seemed quite surprised by my candor, but the look was fleeting. "I've seen you before."
"when?"
"From the surveillance camera two weeks ago."
This answer surprised me.
It turns out that the identification of "I am Milverton" was not from details on the cuffs, collar, wrists, or hair, but from the surveillance footage of the bank robbery.
This also reminds me that it was Lestrade who took over this case.
It was not surprising that Lestrade showed him the surveillance footage.
However, I couldn't help but feel a little disappointed: "I thought you would say that you judged it by observing me personally."
Holmes' lips twitched almost imperceptibly, as if he thought my expectation was somewhat naive, and he said in a flat tone, "This doesn't warrant the use of deductive reasoning."
I leaned back in my chair and couldn't help but laugh, "It sounds like I haven't given you many surprises since we met at the door."
"On the contrary."
He said.
I instinctively looked at Holmes. His eyes gleamed as he looked back at me, and the fog in the backlight finally took on a clear shape thanks to the light source.
“You’ve saved me the most tedious step. I look forward to seeing you, Milvolton.”
My pupils couldn't help but flicker, but I couldn't look away.
"You seem to be looking forward to meeting me as well."
At this point, Holmes said, "You know, this is deduction, not confirmation."
As soon as I said that, a wide smile spread across my face: "Mr. Holmes, you are so lovable."
Watson, who had originally intended to sit down, felt as if his tail had been stepped on by this remark, and stood aside again, unsure whether he should join the conversation directly.
In contrast, Holmes remained remarkably calm and composed, simply looking at me with a serene expression.
"Would you be interested in becoming friends?" I offered my hand.
Holmes refused outright: "I don't make friends."
I glanced instinctively at Watson beside me, only to find that he showed no reaction to Holmes's words either. After all, they weren't familiar with each other yet; once they were, Holmes's words could leave Watson feeling down for an entire day.
After he finished speaking, seeing that I had no other reaction, he raised an eyebrow and said calmly, "So, do you have anything else to say?"
"No," I shook my head and replied casually, "I just happened to be here. Besides, you let me in, so I thought I'd chat with you."
"What do you want to talk about?"
His tone was calm and unhurried, yet it carried a subtle penetrating power.
What I just said was meant to be the "end," but to Holmes it sounded like a question that meant the "beginning."
I was somewhat surprised to find that he didn't easily enjoy small talk.
For me, the joy of casual conversation lies in talking about anything and everything, without any restraint or inhibition.
Such aimless and unfocused communication was completely incomprehensible to Holmes.
He wanted to find out the "meaning" or "function" within it.
This calm focus only made me want to fill that void even more.
Okay, okay.
"Friendship may be gone, but business remains."
I dutifully took out my phone, opened the three messages Mycroft had sent me yesterday, and said, "I want an exclusive. Can you solve this serial murder case?"
Holmes glanced at it. "All the major news outlets are reporting on this suicide. Why do you think it's a murder?"
His words made me want to check if any idiots in our company had followed suit and made this news.
This is such a humiliating contradiction!
However, this idea only popped into my head for a moment.
After all, once it's written, it's written.
I added, "There are at least four reasons to rule out suicide."
"First, this is not a locked room that no one could enter, and the deceased did not leave any suicide note or explanation, clearly showing no signs of voluntarily ending his life."
"Second, the lethal drug was not a pill that the deceased would normally come into contact with or be familiar with. If it was suicide, he would at least use a drug that he was familiar with."
"Third, the deceased had no obvious motive for suicide. They had neither debt crises, emotional disputes, or serious health problems. Their overall living conditions were stable."
"Fourth, people who are truly prepared to commit suicide usually make some arrangements or explanations for unresolved matters and people they care about before they die. They will not die so hastily and without leaving a trace."
Watson's voice rang out immediately: "But there are no signs of a struggle at the scene, and the deceased has no signs of struggle injuries."
This is indeed the basis for determining suicide.
I almost blurted out, "Then all you need is a gun."
Watson was slightly taken aback.
“Use a gun to control the other person’s actions,” I continued. “If I point a gun at a passerby, I believe he will cooperate fully and do as I say.”
"Since you have a gun, why not just shoot?" Watson pressed. "Isn't it pointless to make the other person swallow poison?"
I shrugged and said casually, "Because the moment the gun went off, the murder case was immediately closed. Scotland Yard opened a case on the spot."
"But poison is different. It can create ambiguity, causing the case to be wrongly judged as suicide, thus leaving room for the murderer to continue his actions."
I turned my head to look at Watson, as if to remind him to pay attention to reality.
"Look, isn't the prevailing opinion now that it's a 'serial suicide'?"
I sighed, my tone even tinged with innocence: "I wonder who first set this tone, making something that was originally very simple so complicated?"
I had just finished speaking when I heard footsteps behind me, and then I paused for a moment.
I instinctively turned around and my eyes met Lestrade's.
There was a hint of resentment in his eyes, as if to say that I had suddenly kicked him earlier.
I pretended not to know and greeted him warmly, "Hi! Isn't this Mr. Lestrade?"
Lestrade glanced at me, his expression complex, but finally resigned himself to his fate and said, "Hello... Mr. Milverton."
Holmes, however, paid no attention to this little incident and asked, "Then how do you understand how he chose his victims?"
“Randomly selected?” I paused and said, “I remember random killings are the hardest to solve.”
Holmes calmly stated, "If it were truly a 'random' selection, the perpetrator should have had their own preferences. However, the victims included both women and men. Two of the men were tall and strong, not easily subdued. If it was a random killing, why take such a risk?"
Lestrade, who was standing next to him, opened his mouth, but then closed it again after realizing he couldn't join the conversation.
Holmes continued, "Secondly, there's time."
He explained, "Since he was certain that this poisoning would obscure the nature of the case and prevent people from discovering the real truth, why was his crime cycle so long and unstable? The first case occurred on October 12th of last year; the second on November 26th of last year; the third on January 27th of this year; and the fourth last night. Was he just looking for the right opportunity?"
I was momentarily speechless, and subconsciously echoed his words, "That's right, if he wanted to commit crimes randomly like this, why didn't he just poison a hidden water tank?"
As soon as I said those words, I was stunned.
yes.
If his goal was simply to create chaos, he could have done it much more efficiently.
Not to mention, I remember that in the Sherlock storyline, murderers could get a reward for killing.
He wanted a large sum of money, yet he wasn't very proactive in leaving it to his children after his death. What a contradictory person!
But that's how it was set up in the original work...
I quickly refocused my thoughts, reaffirmed my position, and continued, "I think we shouldn't consider the killer's thought process. Mr. Holmes, you'll be leading us astray."
“The motive for a crime is always vague. For example, if I suddenly punched Lestrade on the head, would the fact that I didn’t have the opportunity to hit him erase my act of hitting him?”
Lestrade: "What does this have to do with me?"
I shrugged and continued, “The reason crime cycles are regular is because criminals have their own path dependencies and behavioral habits, which is a form of crime control. If it were me, the reason crime cycles would be so irregular is because I know someone will speculate about them. And I would deliberately disrupt this cycle, which is also a form of crime control.”
I was about to say, "Mr. Holmes, you couldn't possibly not know," but when I met his gaze, I found the light in his eyes growing even brighter. He didn't look away at all, his gaze extremely focused and calm.
This made me suddenly realize something.
From the very beginning, he neither explained nor refuted, nor did he try to persuade me to think according to his ideas.
This is not about observing a case.
He was observing me.
He was trying to understand how I was thinking.
He's deducing what kind of person I am.
I couldn't help but chuckle, and said in a deliberately flirtatious tone, "Mr. Holmes, I'm getting shy staring at me like that."
Holmes: "..."
Lestrade: "..."
Watson: "..."
London: "..."
The air seemed to be briefly sucked out for a second.
The next moment, Holmes casually shifted his gaze and turned to Lestrade. "Lestrade, what brings you here?"
I immediately protested in my mind.
Me: "Is he ignoring me?"
London: "You make me feel ashamed to be on the same side as you."
Me: "I'm so frank, it's you guys who are boring!"
London: "Don't talk to me."
I am very dissatisfied.
If London were a physical entity, even if it were just a kitten, I would pick it up and kiss it relentlessly until it was completely fed up with life.
Just as Holmes and Lestrade were talking in hushed tones, Watson leaned over, lowered his voice, and gave me a thumbs-up.
"How did you come up with that? Your reasoning is brilliant."
My eyes lit up, and I immediately moved to the side, making room for half of the single sofa.
“Come here, Mr. Watson.”
Let's sit together!
I want to stick close to you.
London: "You like Watson that much?"
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Author's note: I've found that the more enthusiastic your comments are, the more inspired I become, and the faster I write!
I'm happy, and I hope you enjoy watching it too! [hugs][hugs][hugs]
20 random small red envelopes, see you tomorrow.
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