Chapter 43 Grey Oil
The instrument in the hand of the young police officer of Scotland Yard spewed short fireworks. In the diffused gunpowder smoke, metal bullets were like intermittent rainstorms, washing the head of Elson who had been resurrected for some reason, washing the flesh and blood on his face, rubbing off the broken bones, and cleaning the rotten brain.
The headless body struggled several times on the spot, fell straight down, and fell into real death.
Watson extinguished the fluorescent green in his right pupil, and the moth in his skull, which had not yet recovered from the injury, continued to be listless.
He was squatting at the top of the rooftop stairwell at this moment, with his legs slightly spread out and his knees bent upward, his elbows resting on his knees to fix him, and holding a 49-inch long muzzle-loading rifle in his arms, but in fact, the strange hexagonal barrel of this rifle did not have rifling in the conventional sense.
The Whitworth M1857 precision rifle is the name of this unique weapon. Because of its accuracy beyond the times, it was later hailed as the "world's first sniper rifle"!
This was originally a new rifle designed by Sir Joseph Whitworth under the commission of the British Army Commander-in-Chief. However, due to its special barrel structure, it was difficult to fire continuously and the cost was too high. Instead, it was not adopted by the British Army, but it shone brightly in the free country across the ocean!
Major General John Sedgwick's famous saying, "At such a long distance, they can't even hit an elephant!!!", is still engraved in the shameful history of the civil war in the free country.
There are two other Whitworth rifles of the same style at his feet. Since this weapon still uses the front loading method, the shooting interval is longer than that of the rear loading gun. He took out all his private collection tonight to prevent the large number of enemies from the Flash Blade Cult.
Unfortunately, the time is short today, and the fuse explosive equivalent placed in the room is still too small and the power is insufficient. If he is given another day to prepare, he will definitely be able to blow this monster suspected to be Elson's resurrection to pieces at the beginning!
He cleaned up the remaining slag in the gun barrel, covered the weapon with a piece of black cloth, tied it up tightly with a rope and carried it on his shoulder.
The continuous gunshots had woken up the residents downstairs, and a brave guy had begun to hit the staircase door that Watson had tightened from the outside in advance.
Watson cleaned up the traces of his presence a little, and used a simple hemp rope to descend from the roof with brute force. After landing, he easily retracted the rope. There was no trace left on the roof except for a circle of faint traces of hemp rope sliding over.
When the irritable resident holding a shotgun broke open the rooftop door, he could only watch the awakened London streets from the rooftop.
Watson walked along the shadows, and after deliberately circling several times, he returned to the short-term apartment he rented temporarily, hid his weapons and equipment under the bed, and turned around and went out again.
…………
At this time, the fire in the Sherlock Holmes Detective Agency also began to spread. Fortunately, the nearby fire station was not far away. It was late at night when the roads were clear. The fire operation team quickly arrived and put out the fire before it spread. Only the room where the explosion occurred was burned black.
Watson had been watching the busy figures of the firefighters outside the street. After the fire was completely extinguished, the sky began to light up with a touch of light gray.
He put on a surprised face and staggered towards the detective agency with a cane.
The residents of the street knew Watson. During this period, they had been getting along harmoniously with each other. When they saw this poor war hero with the background of the Duke of Holmes, they came forward to comfort him with concern.
"Oh my God, Mr. Watson, are you okay?!"
"Oh God! Fortunately, Mr. Watson, you didn't stay here last night."
"Mr. Watson, why don't you stay at my house before the room is repaired? Oliver is on a business trip recently..."
"Shut up, Kelly! You slutty bitch, I'll tell your husband that you always seduce other men when he's on a business trip!"
"Hahaha, Lisa, you stinky bitch, don't think I don't know that you've been going to the strip club in the next block every night to patronize those muscular handsome guys, especially the night before yesterday, you didn't come back all night-"
Before she finished speaking, Lisa had twisted her bucket-like waist, stepped out her short legs, waved her colorful nails, and scratched Kelly's basin-like face.
"Ah——" Kelly wiped her face and saw the faint bloodstains on her palm. She screamed shrilly, "How dare you hurt my beautiful face!!!"
Not to be outdone, she reached out and grabbed Lisa's dry and yellow curly hair, and the two of them immediately wrestled together.
This sudden chaotic scene immediately shifted the attention of the onlookers from the unlucky detective assistant to the two ladies lying on the ground fighting.
Watson was able to successfully pass through the crowd and came to the door of the detective agency. He handed a cigarette to the firefighter who was squatting in front of the door to rest for a while.
"Thank you very much. If it weren't for the three of you, the Sherlock Holmes Detective Agency would have been destroyed by this fire tonight!"
The firefighters, who were originally tired and impatient, instantly cheered up after hearing the word "Holmes" - Oh? It turns out that what we just saved was the Duke's property!
They politely took the cigarettes and smiled happily enjoying the smell of this high-end tobacco that might have come from the Duke's family.
"You're welcome. This is what we should do. Maintaining fire safety in London is our unshirkable responsibility!"
Watson also used the tobacco, the bully and the dirty jokes to quickly get closer to the firefighters. Before they left, they asked tentatively: "Brother Watson, we just found that the fire came from the bed in the bedroom. It seems to be some kind of high explosives... Do you think we should report this to Scotland Yard?"
Watson showed an embarrassed expression and said: "Alas, this matter involves the Duke's property after all. If the news spreads and appears in those messy newspapers, it will damage the Duke's face... So I ask you three to keep the details of tonight confidential."
When the firefighters heard the words of the gentleman who was suspected to be the Duke's servant, they immediately imagined a long list of noble grievances, love and hatred, and assassinations... They nodded vigorously and said repeatedly, "I understand, brother Watson, don't worry, we will definitely not embarrass you."
After receiving such an affirmative reply, Watson also showed a seemingly relaxed smile and waved goodbye to the three firefighters.
He had been sitting on the steps in front of the door waiting until Victor, who was on vacation, drove the carriage to a stop.
Charlotte Holmes looked at the blackened windows on the second floor of the detective agency, and her eyebrows could not help but rise. She entered the room and asked:
"Is it the Flash Blade Cult? How many people came? Did they catch anyone alive?"
Watson shook his head, "The one who came was not a human, but a monster that could not bleed. I observed the trap triggered from the far upstairs last night, and found an unusually thin figure falling from the window."
"I kept shooting, but could only cause slight damage to it, but the accumulation of quantity was enough to produce a qualitative change. In the end, the monster fell on the river bank, and a night patrol policeman beheaded it. When I rushed over, there was only a pool of gray oil stains on the ground."
Watson told the truth about what happened last night. The momentum was too big, and the female detective could infer the specific details with just a little investigation. There was no need and no way to hide it.
"Gray oil stains..." the female detective muttered, "I've seen similar records in the materials of the Anti-Suppression Bureau. That's the most common method used by the secret believers - driving some kind of cold inhuman monster to do things for them."
"The detective agency is no longer safe... Watson, why don't you just move to my manor?"
The 38-degree weather made my head dizzy and I couldn't think... The water content of this chapter was enough to reduce Chibei's desire