Chapter 316

Lessing Bach falls, in the mountains of malingen, Switzerland. On both sides of the waterfall stands black coal like rocks. There is a huge crack at the mouth of the valley, from which the river pours.

The crack at the bottom gradually narrowed, and the milky and boiling water flowed directly into the bottomless ravine, overflowing and splashing a torrent from the opening. The continuous green waves are like thunder, and the thick and shaking water curtain keeps ringing for a long time.

The torrent pours into the abyss, splashing like smoke from a house fire. The turbulence and noise make people dizzy. Slapping the spray of black rock, it also makes a roaring sound.

Feng has always felt that this is a very unlucky place. In the real world, Conan Doyle is here, born the idea of killing Holmes. In the virtual world, a generation of crime giants and detective gods died together here.

Of course, Sherlock Holmes later came back to life in the author's works, and Professor Moriarty was buried here forever.

"What is it for me to see..." Feng unconsciously stared at the water of the waterfall, overlooking the dark abyss, as if he was about to be sucked in.

That match has been burning for a long time. If the little match girl really has a box of matches like this, she won't freeze to death. It's OK to stay all night.

"Oh, here comes..." In the unseen sight, the two figures walked up the narrow road.

One of them is the famous detective Sherlock Holmes. His height is close to one meter nine and he is a little thin. His face was blurred, it was difficult to see the specific appearance, but he was still sure that this was Holmes, because he was next to another man. Apparently over 50 (Holmes was set to be born in 1854, in the last case around 40).

The man in his fifties, of course, was Professor Moriarty.

The two men had a conversation on the narrow road, and the conversation was completely covered by the sound of the waterfall. It was polite to see the way the two men talked.

I don't know how much I admire these two guys. You know, Holmes at the moment is very clear about Moriarty's intention. I also know that I will soon face a deadly battle. But Moriarty, in the face of an opponent who has destroyed everything, can still maintain the demeanor in the last moment before revenge, which is also admirable.

The conversation took a few minutes. Then, with Moriarty's consent, Holmes took a piece of paper out of his arms and began to write on it, which was the last words he left to Watson. Not long after, Holmes wrote the message and left the letter, cigarette case and cane on the narrow road.

Next. The two continued to move forward.

When Feng didn't realize that he read this passage as a child, he found out that the professor had weapons between the lines. He had a hundred percent pistol in his pocket, or Holmes would not have gone to the waterfall.

But Mr Conan Doyle. From the beginning to the end, I didn't write about Moriarty drawing a gun. It can also be seen from here that his mastery of the characters' personalities is profound.

If this plot had been in an American detective film in the 1980s, it would have been A villain with a mouth full of swearing raised his gun and pointed to a tough hero with a face always taut. He was walking on the narrow road. The villain had pulled out the gun clearly. You have to push and kick to make the protagonist move forward.

But the two characters in this book will never be so rude.

As two wise and cultured gentlemen. There's no need to say anything, let alone put on a posture of tension. Since I know you have a gun in your pocket, and you know you have a gun in your pocket, let's talk calmly and politely, and then what we should do.

"So far, it's no different from what's described in the book..." While watching this CG like scene, Feng could not help saying: "but according to the style of this script Then there must be something against the original

His inference is accurate

Not long after, Holmes and Moriarty came to the end of the narrow road, and the latter suddenly burst into attack.

In moriati's eyes, there was hatred. His criminal empire, which he had run for many years, was destroyed by Scotland Yard, and the detective in front of him was responsible for all this.

Holmes had expected such a development for a long time. He immediately used his own skilful fighting skills to start a circle with each other.

This fight is not very good-looking. There is no such beautiful action as kung fu movies. There is no bullet time and dazzling special effects in post-modern films. Most of the time, these two are just fighting.

But such a fight is the most real. In real life, it's true that people fight and wrestle with both hands.

"Er --"

with a deep roar, Professor Moriarty fell into a waterfall.

And Sherlock Holmes fell with him

"Bsp; at the same time, the fire on the match finally burned to the fingers. The slight burning pain brought him back to his senses, and the vision in front of him disappeared.

In the dark living room, a wisp of white smoke rises quietly, proclaiming that the match has failed.

Feng didn't realize that he had thrown the little burnt match stick on the coffee table and got up to turn on the light.

"He's dead..." Feng unconsciously sat back on the sofa, frowned and thought, "yes, he's dead!"

Brother Jue suddenly realized: "when writing the last case, Conan Doyle really wanted to end the story of Sherlock Holmes, and the end was to die together." The information in his mind swirled like a whirlpool: "in that virtual world, before the book of return was written, Holmes was a dead man, a dead man who was buried with Moriarty in the waterfall..."

The fourth message flashed through my mind.

"The narrative on pages 599-602 was written several years later by the author in order to" bring the detective back to life. " Feng unconsciously looked at the book again: "there is no climbing cliff, no attacker, no" three people ", no one." He said, tearing the two pieces of paper from the book, "is that what you want to tell me? Moriati. "

"No, I want to tell you more than that." A deep, mysterious voice replied.

The voice is like a mantra.

In a second, the scene in front of him had suddenly changed, and he came to another place as if waking up from a dream.

"Oh Am I the first? " I can't feel my eyes fixed. I found that I was in a white room with six sides, and the walls were full of white light with appropriate brightness.

In front of him was a wooden round table about four meters in diameter, surrounded by six chairs, in which he sat. Maurice, on the other side of the table.

"It could be the last one." Moriati replied. His outline is the same as that in the illusion just now. At this time, his face is clearly displayed in front of his eyes.

The professor seemed to be in his fifties, with many ravines on his face. In addition to his temperament as a scholar, there are other things in his brow, which are cold, evil and cruel.

"You mean Will they die in their own memory? " I don't know.

"Not necessarily. I'm just saying it's possible." Moriarty replied, his tone gave a sense of calm and introverted, "they are all smart people, but you More different. "

"Ha I think you have asked magic mirror, who is the most handsome person in the world Feng chuckled back and said, "ah I am ashamed of it. "

"Look, this is one of your interesting places." Moriarty smiled, but there was no smile in his eyes. The grey eyes, like wild animals, looked at the blind eyes, as if they could pierce the soul of people. "You are good at using this unique sense of humor to test others. At the same time, it's also a kind of protection for yourself, which can cover up the real idea in your heart. "

"Oh? Is that your judgment? " He said: "hum But have you considered the other two assumptions? " He raised two fingers one after the other and said, "first, I'm just a cheap mouth; second, I'm a madman."

Moriarty sneered. He leaned forward, put his elbows on the table, and put his fingers across his chin: "excuse me, do you think Am I a lunatic? "

"You? Ha ha... " Feng chuckled back. He raised his hands and pointed out one finger each: "this is madness, this is you." He said, with his arms outstretched, he pulled the distance between the two fingers to a great distance: "you and madness are like two ends of a straight line, how far is it. In my opinion, you're so sane that you're bored. "

"Then you think..." Moriarty added, "how high is the success rate of pretending to be crazy in front of me?"

Feng unconsciously spread out his hands: "try without spending money."

"Hum..."

"Haha......"

"Ha ha..."

"Hahahaha..."

The two guys looked at each other across the table, and began to laugh inexplicably. The more they laughed, the louder they were, like two psychopaths.

Or Moriarty first restrained the smile: "welcome to the reasoning club, crazy."

"May I have your partner out?" The palm of his right hand was up, motioning to the chair next to Moriarty.

"Fura -" a wisp of white smoke came up. "I've come." Another voice said.

But see, a tall and thin man with a pipe, spit out a cigarette ring, walk lazily, walk out of the blind spot of vision behind him. Genius a second to remember this website www.biquga.com, the fastest updated novel website!