006

Trip to Whitechapel

"Ben?

Are you there?

What happened? "

Benben was overjoyed. He turned around and shouted, "Davis, come and help!

Libella fainted! "

Libella was finally treated, but at 221b Baker Street in the southwest of London —

After John Watson opened the door, he found that the floor of his and Sherlock's "shared" apartment was piled with newspapers, and there was no place for him to walk.

He immediately looked at the place where Sherlock usually stayed. Sure enough, the detective was sitting on his sofa with a cup of half-drunk tea in front of him. He maintained his exclusive posture and closed his eyes, thinking.

"Sherlock..."

"Shh."

Sherlock still had his eyes closed, but his fingers moved, indicating that he should not speak. He then said, "John, guess what I saw?"

How would I know what you saw with your eyes closed...

John rolled his eyes and put the things he got from the supermarket on the newspaper so that he could stretch his feet out and walk through the obstacles to land on the empty ground. He didn't forget to answer his annoying roommate's question. "I don't know."

"It's a corpse, John." Sherlock's eyes were closed, but the corners of his mouth were slightly raised. "A corpse that has been processed by the Ripper."

The Ripper?

John, who was trudging through the apartment, was stunned. He looked down at the newspaper by his feet. These newspapers seemed to be from a few years ago. Huh?

There was an annotation on one of the newspapers.

John reached out and picked up the newspaper that was a meter away from him. There was a circle drawn with a pencil, and the words "Whitechapel" were marked.

Hmm... Well, there was a simple description of the corpse below. It was indeed a scene of a disemboweled body, worthy of the name "The Ripper".

"I've checked all the murders related to Whitechapel in the past five years."

Sherlock finally opened his eyes and turned to look at his roommate. "I think I'll receive a new notice from Lestrade soon."

He smiled and said, "The.

puzzle

is

ing.”

"Yes, yes, I know there's a puzzle coming up," John answered him. At the same time, he picked up the newspapers on the floor and looked at his detective roommate, speechless. "But I think the conflict between us will come before the puzzle."

"Do we have a conflict?"

Sherlock looked away with a lack of interest. Apparently, he was not interested in this boring topic. "We live quite well."

"Okay, Sherlock, I have to tell you something …" John put away the newspaper in his hand and put it on the coffee table. He then sat across from Sherlock and looked at him seriously with his brown eyes, intending to tell him his plan. "I-"

"Oh." Sherlock raised his eyebrows. His finger moved all the way up from John's sleeves and stopped on John's shoulder. "You're in love?

She was a teacher?

How rare.

So the reason you didn't come back last night was because you stayed at her house?

There are ironing marks on her collar and sleeves, and there's chalk dust on her shoulder and a strand of brown hair. It seems that she's a gentle and considerate person to the children. Hmm, a music teacher? "

"How did the music teacher know that?"

John had already experienced his roommate's ability, but he couldn't help but be curious about how the music teacher did it.

Even he only knew that she was a music teacher. When they were at her house, they didn't even touch an instrument … Well, they didn't have time to touch an instrument before …

Ahem!

Sherlock glanced at him. His tone was still calm, as if he was talking about a math problem. "You've been paying attention to my violin since you came in. Including your glance now, you've looked at it five times."

Okay...

"So the music teacher guessed it?" John spread his hands.

"It's a reasonable speculation," Sherlock glanced at him and then picked up the tea in front of him. "It's a psychological investigation method. I haven't tried it before. Recently, a person named Spenser Reid left a comment on my website and mentioned this method, so I gave it a try."

"It's cool, but Sherlock, I don't want to talk about this now," John raised his hand helplessly and continued, "I mean, I might move out and live with her, or she might move in —"

"You move out." Sherlock made his choice without hesitation.

"Great, I also think it's safer this way." John said and breathed a sigh of relief.

He didn't want to see Sherlock sitting on the sofa after he and his girlfriend had sex. He didn't want Sherlock to tell them what positions they used based on the strange marks on their bodies. Although it sounded ridiculous, he felt that Sherlock could do it.

John continued, "The room will remain, so please don't change it into a strange place."

"Of course, no problem."

Sherlock replied and looked at Dr. Watson like he was an idiot. "I'm not that bored. There's a case waiting for me here. I'm very busy."

"Great," John breathed a sigh of relief again. "Things are going so smoothly. I'm so happy that I'm about to cry.

Ah, by the way, you said there's a new case. Do you need my help? "

"Enjoy your boring relationship with your girlfriend," Sherlock replied. "Someone sent me an email and wanted to challenge me to solve the case while sitting in 221b."

"Whitechapel?" John asked.

"The Ripper," Sherlock corrected.

"How are you going to solve the case if you don't go to the scene?"

John smiled helplessly and shook the newspaper in his hand. "You know, there are less than a hundred words describing the scene in the newspaper."

Sherlock moved his fingers and said calmly, "I found new helpers. They're more flexible than you and me. I believe in them."

"Them?" John couldn't help but ask curiously.

…

"Why are you here?"

At the same time, in an orphanage in East London, which was located in the southwest of London where Baker Street was located, questions were popping up one after another. However, the questions and answers here were much more harmonious than the two at 221B Baker Street.

Davis's pleasant and gentle voice calmed Benben's mind. He was frightened when Libella suddenly fainted.

He looked up at Davis and replied, "I was asked by Mr. Sherlock Holmes to come here and bring you a note."

After he finished speaking, he subconsciously touched his right pocket and found that the note was gone.

"Huh?

I clearly put it here … "Benben opened his eyes wide in shock." How did it disappear?! "

Davis was also a little surprised.

These children had always kept Mr. Sherlock Holmes's things very well. They were also excellent pickpockets. Although it wasn't very nice to say this, it was the truth. It was unlikely that the item would have been stolen without him noticing.

Davis looked at Libella and thought for a moment. He hesitantly reached out his hand and searched the pocket of Libella's windbreaker. He finally found the missing note.

"Is it this?"

Davis shook the paper in his hand. Benben, who was still anxiously looking for the note, looked up and nodded when he saw the familiar paper. "Yes, it's this!

Davis, where did you find it? "

"In Libella's pocket. Maybe you gave it to Libella midway but forgot." Davis wasn't in a hurry to look at the paper. He first pointed to the door. "Don't worry about that. Filling your stomach is the most important thing. Go, there's food on the table. I'll take care of Libella here."

Benben hesitated and nodded weakly. "Okay, call me when she wakes up!"

"Got it."

Davis patted his head and smiled gently. He watched Benben leave the room, looking back repeatedly with every step. "Remember to thank me for the meal."

"I will." Benben answered embarrassedly.

After the youth left, Davis looked back at the bed. The blonde girl who had fainted from hunger was still pale and frowning.

… Where did she get the coat?

Did Mr. Sherlock Holmes give it to her?

Davis touched the corner of the coat. It was of good quality and looked very similar to what Sherlock Holmes usually wore. However, he looked helplessly at the dirty hem of the coat. Libella was too short. This coat must have been stepped on many times on her body.

However, it was good that it could keep out the cold. After all, late autumn was coming.

This group of children refused to accept his aid and had to rely on various underhanded means to obtain supplies in London. On the one hand, he blamed himself. On the other hand, he was eager to pull these children back onto the right path.

Davis looked at Libella for a while until her frowning brows slowly relaxed. Only then did he withdraw his gaze and take out the piece of paper. The three words fell into his eyes. He thought for a moment and understood that the note was asking him if there were any strange things in April this year.

As for strange things that could attract the interest of Mr. Sherlock Holmes, it would naturally not be ordinary.

He had an agreement with Mr. Sherlock Holmes to not let these children get too involved in dangerous matters. Therefore, he used such simple keywords to pass on the message. However, he had never received a letter from Mr. Sherlock Holmes and thought that he had long forgotten about it.

Now it seemed that was not the case.

Well, but … did anything strange happen in Whitechapel in April?

Come to think of it, there really was one.

Davis got up and planned to return to the study to write a letter to Mr. Sherlock Holmes. As he was about to leave the room, he paused and turned back with a bitter smile. He picked up Libella's bowl on the table. He was getting old … He had just fed Libella a bowl of mashed potatoes and had actually forgotten.

Taking the bowl with him, Davis took one last look at Libella's peaceful sleeping face before he left quietly.

He carefully closed the door and sighed.

Whether it was Libella or Benben … Although they were children, they each had their own powerlessness …

If they had lived in a normal family, would they have encountered such things?

But now, of the original group of children, only the weakest two were left …