小说区av长篇小说

No matter what, the case was finally over. This was the best result that one could compare with the real-time cold case that would take place seven years later. Holmes stretched his arms, telling Zhang Heng, “You won the bet this time. Although you put yourself in grave danger, I can’t deny that you were always one step ahead of me. Now, you can execute the privilege of the winner. It’s time to choose the opera to watch tonight.”

“Really?” Zhang Heng asked, “But why do I feel as if you didn’t give it your best? Deliberately let me win this time?”

“Who knows, you seem to have an unexplainable reason-you have to beat me

once.”

Holmes smiled, “But I did try my best this time. After all, solving crimes is a passion of mine. It would be hard placing a roasted turkey before a food connoisseur and asking him not to eat it.”

Two hundred seventy days seemed like a long time, but for Zhang Heng, who had been continually absorbing new knowledge every day, time passed in a blink of an eye. Including the Whitechapel District’s serial homicides, he and Holmes had covered over a dozen cases together.

There were many bizarre and twisted stories. If Zhang Heng wrote all of them down, he might replace Conan Doyle as the greatest Victorian-era detective novelist. In the later period, Zhang Heng even began to handle some of the cases independently. His criminal investigation skills had reached Lv.2, followed by makeup skills. Other than that, he also asked Irene Adler for some knowledge about putting up a good performance, though his art appreciation skills remained at Lv.o.

Thus far, this game had yet to provide him with any items. It wasn’t until the last day when Zhang Heng and Holmes went to see an equestrian show. When it ended, the two wandered along the banks of the Thames, talking about contemporary violin artists and 18th-century pirates, where Holmes marveled at Zhang Heng’s understanding of Nassau. Following that, the two went to a tavern on the side of the road to sit down and relax.

It wasn’t far from the pier; hence many sailors drank and played cards here. It was indeed a vivacious establishment; it’s atmosphere loud and lively.

It was then that Sherlock Holmes’s hold habits began to surface again. He pointed at a man with a mustache on his left and said, “Scotsman, has many brothers, graduated from Edinburgh University, worked as a marine doctor, went to West Africa, likes writing, and they are good at crossword puzzles as well.”

“Heh, we don’t have to compete this time. I’ll buy you a pint.”

Zhang Heng still had some money, and it would be hard to spend all of it before leaving this world. That was why he did not mind to buy Holmes a drink. “That couldn’t be better. We’ll start with two pints,” Holmes requested to the bartender.

Just when the two found a seat to sit down and wait for the beer, the mustached man playing the crossword puzzle at the other table came over. Newspapers in hand, he exclaimed, “Mr. Sherlock Holmes and his Eastern roommate, Sir. Zhang Heng! I did not expect to see you two here.”

“Good, sir. You know us?” Holmes raised his eyebrows.

“Of course, you two are the most famous detectives in London right now,” replied the mustached man with a smile. “Can I sit here?”

“Please do! The more we drink with, the more interesting it gets,” Holmes said. “What is your name?

“Doyle, Arthur Conan Doyle,” said the visitor enthusiastically, reaching out his hand.

Holmes was a little surprised. After shaking his hand, he turned to Zhang Heng. “Is he the friend that you mentioned before?”

Holmes noticed Zhang Heng was even more surprised than he was when he heard the name.

“Don’t be surprised. We actually met for the first time.” Conan Doyle explained, “Before that, we were communicating through words.”

“Communicating through words. You mean the letter?” Holmes frowned.

“Close enough,” Doyle said, pausing. “When I came, I heard about an interesting case at Central Garden. A lady fell to the ground, and when she regained consciousness, her purse and other jewelry were still there. However, only her earrings are missing. Why not investigate this?”

“Sounds interesting. After staying idle for so long. We finally have something to do.” Holmes was excited. He seemed to have forgotten Zhang Heng that sat beside him. He picked up his cane, got up, and strode out of the tavern.

After that, the bartender brought two mugs of beer for them. Doyle picked up one of them and sighed. “Thank god for that guy finally left. Otherwise, I can’t guarantee that he will not figure out my real intention with his crazily good observation skill. By the way, do you know that I created Sherlock Holmes based on a teacher I met when I was in college? His name is Joseph Bell. The way he teaches and asks questions will grant him the ability to see through your soul. He is capable of telling where you come from and what your occupation is. He had a great impact on me at that time. I have thought that if he is a detective, he will definitely turn this line of work into accurate science.”

“Of course, Edgar Allan Pie and Émile Gaboriau also gave me a lot of inspiration. The character that Poe created, Detective Dobin, has always been my childhood hero. And Gaboriau’s interlocking writing method also gave me a lot of inspiration. This is how the writers work. One generation will influence another generation, just like passing on the precious knowledge from generation to generation. When you read the works of modern people, you can always find the context that comes from the past.”

Conan Doyle took a sip of beer and said to Zhang Heng, “You should also try it. There are still a few hours left before your quest comes to an end. It’s not easy to return to 19th century London to taste the beer here.”

“Who are you?” Zhang Heng finally asked.

“Who am I?” There was a smile on Conan Doyle’s face. “I am those names that you are familiar with. I am William Shakespeare, Alexander Dumas, and Arthur Conan Doyle. I’m also Neil Gaiman, George Raymond, and Richard Martin.”

“The god of the novel?” Zhang Heng raised his eyebrows and took a sip of the beer in his glass.

“It’s an acceptable way to explain the current situation.” Conan Doyle snapped his fingers. Zhang Heng thought of the ancient Celtic god he met in the Black Sail quest and the mysterious man who called himself Einstein at the Apollo Project’s training camp. Now that he encountered the god of the novel, he suddenly realized something, “So, there is a god that is related to the quest in every round of the game that I play?”

“You are good at observing, just like your roommate Sherlock Holmes.” Conan Doyle praised, “As you can see, all the games serve two functions. The players can get game items, points, and skills from it. And we can also use this to observe the players and find a suitable agent for ourselves. You have the Infinite Building Block with you, so it should also be easy for you to understand. For us, it does not mean that the more powerful the players are, the better it is for us. We must also take into account the compatibility. This is a very complicated matter. You have to weigh all of the aspects to make the best decision. At the same time, recruiting agents must also obtain the consent of the one that is being recruited.”

“Do you want to recruit me to be your agent?”

“Well, in theory, it is true that only when I want to recruit someone as an agent will I show up in front of him before the end of the quest. But you are an exception,” Conan Doyle pointed at Zhang Heng’s watch on his right hand, “You have chosen your side, haven’t

you?”

“Then why do you even bother to show up in front of me?” Zhang Heng asked, while quietly putting his fingers into his pockets and holding the knife there.

“Don’t be nervous, I’m don’t have ill intention towards you,” Conan Doyle shrugged, “On the contrary, there are actually many connections between you and me.”

“Connection?”

“I noticed that you are trying to find some answers that can help you to understand yourself better,” Conan Doyle drank the beer in the glass in one breath, then burped contentedly, and stood up, “You will thank me for this meeting when you find the answer. “

“Wait, do you have the answers?”

Conan Doyle did not continue on this topic but showed a smile, “We will meet again, just like all the protagonists in the story have to make the final choice. By then, you also need to make your own choice.”

After speaking, he put down the empty mug in his hand. Zhang Heng wanted to go after him, but he found that his body could not move. He could only watch the novel walked out of the tavern. After that, he landed his attention on the newspaper that was left behind. There was a small bump in the middle of it. Zhang Heng opened the newspaper. He found the pen that Conan Doyle used to play the crossword puzzle.