Chapter 21 The British Government from Heaven (Part 5)

  The door opened with a "click" and closed with another "click".

  ……

  What did she just say?

  No, I didn't plan on going anywhere else.

  It sounds like she's telling him that apart from the bar, she hasn't been anywhere else.

  But "intended" is a subjective word - she did not intend to go anywhere else, she was just forced to see McRoft.

  She skillfully confused the concept, even if she was exposed by him for her lie, she could say that she didn't lie because she never denied going to other places.

  A foolish woman is troublesome.

  And this woman...

  Sherlock gazed at the closed door, his eyes narrowing slowly.

  Then he turned around and reopened his laptop.

  After rapidly typing a string of code and repair commands, Macrof's figure reappeared on the screen.

  He was leaning diagonally against the edge of the sofa, holding a delicate relief coffee cup in his hand, with hot air rising from it.

  "Congratulations, your reaction value has reached a new high. Just now, the speed at which you instantly cut off the program's data stream was even faster than Jie La Fu."

  "You're comparing me to a data clerk who only knows how to program? MacTavish, I think you're underestimating the importance of counter-espionage programs."

  "Sherlock said disdainfully: 'In those two and a half seconds just now, I not only found a way to cut off your data source but also happened to destroy the core code of your differential program. If I want to, the list of your little intelligence organization will immediately appear in the Prime Minister's text messages.'"

  "I'll believe you, brother of mine, if you can still recall the name of the current British Prime Minister - he's not the one who was in office when you were three years old and had your first politics lesson."

  MacRoffert sipped his tea leisurely, a clever and bantering smile spreading across his face.

  "Moreover, thanks for helping me discover the system vulnerability, I'll let them know to improve - you know how valuable a programmer who can find vulnerabilities in the Jelraf system is - especially when they have to bother cleaning up their corpses afterwards."

  Sherlock said coldly, "If you're as poor as this, I don't mind helping you out a bit, MacRoft."

  MacRae sat back on the sofa, sloshing his coffee cup like a cocktail.

  "Logically, for a minor who doesn't understand program editing mode at all, you don't need to cut off the data flow, let alone destroy the program to cover it up."

  Sherlock concentrated on his phone, unaware of what he was looking for.

  He said casually, "What do you want to ask?"

  "MacRae: "What are you insinuating about her? What did you find out in France?"

  "This is my business."

  MacArthur was unmoved

  "When you get her into trouble, it's no longer just your affair - she can't be a spy, Sherlock; though not stupid, she's not brilliant either."

  Sherlock sneered with a "ha": "It seems that after a conversation, you have gained a lot."

  "Of course."

  Macrov raised his teacup: "Don't forget, I'm known for my interrogation skills. Interrogation is everywhere, and there's only a difference between being severe and gentle. When it's gentle, it's like injecting anesthetic, making people unaware of anything."

  "I've already told you not to interfere in my affairs, but apparently, you've done a thorough background check on my roommate..."

  Sherlock Holmes often said:

  "Let me take a guess—a small detachment?... No, MacRoff, you can't hide the grin when you're covering up, it's too slight, but I've known you for nearly twenty years."

  He stared at McRoft for two seconds.

  In these two seconds, McTavish's smile was arguably Britain's most captivating.

  Sherlock's eyes were a deep, rich grey.

  If Ludwig had seen this scene, he would have quietly blown off the roof of Buckingham Palace in his heart.

  Brother! Friend! Younger brother! Attack!

  Love! Kill! Love! Kill!

  The CP of the dark and powerful brother and the dark and arrogant genius younger brother is too touching!

  How can you two be so well-suited and yet not be together!

  Our heroine's brain hole is too big and can't be seen directly...

  Unfortunately, this had no effect on Sherlock either; he turned back and said with a hint of sarcasm:

  "It's unbelievable that you sent two small teams to investigate a minor French citizen, this number would be enough for the President of France."

  "I just wonder what's so special about the person who lets UAE spies sneak into Britain and personally runs to France for them."

  McKroft took a sip of tea:

  "Unfortunately, this investigation only found that your French little friend had a somewhat lonely childhood and an unremarkable growth process - the only remarkable thing about her is probably her extremely disorganized and unplanned nature."

  Sherlock let out a chuckle:

  "You wouldn't have discovered anything, of course. This is my test subject, MacGyver. If it were that easy for you to figure out, you wouldn't have lost so miserably in our game of unorthodox chess."

  MacGyver smiled: "That was five years ago, Sherlock."

  Sherlock glanced at him: "Fresh in memory."

  "Excuse me for speaking bluntly, but if you continue like this, getting bogged down in trivial matters like serial murder cases every day, soon we'll be able to cross swords again."

  "At least I don't have to follow a stupid old woman around every day and deal with her endless troubles."

  MacRae gently set down his teacup:

  "The queen is a woman of elegance and insight, but what's more, her greatest virtue lies in her ability to conceal her insight - precisely what you lack..."

  Sherlock interrupted him impatiently:

  "If you're so bored that you have time to worry about the childhood problems of French kids and my personality defects, then I can give you some more work."

  He slightly curled his lips, and his fingers flew quickly on his phone:

  "As far as I know, your last interference in the French and Spanish negotiations has already put you on the radar of the French military intelligence?... Congratulations, McRoft, you've got a lot to do."

  Sherlock's tone didn't sound like there was anything pleasant about it, but apparently this thing made him feel good.

  "It's really an honor... I didn't know you'd still care about me."

  Sherlock stared at his phone with a frown, jumped off the sofa and said in a low, rapid voice:

  "The one you had me sneak into the French Intelligence Agency last time - mainly because your photo was plastered on the Most Wanted page, it was huge, in red letters, bold font, with a black spade pattern...it's hard not to see it."

  "Red characters? Bold? Black peach?"

  MacTavish set down his teacup with an expressionless face that somehow managed to convey his contempt for the French perfectly.

  "The website of French military intelligence is too fancy, such ethnicity is not worth worrying about."

  Sherlock searched for a pen everywhere on the coffee table but couldn't find one, so he made a mark with his fingernail on his black Moleskine notebook.

  Macri: "I was talking about the Greek Peninsula negotiations summit last week, you..."

  "Besides."

  Sherlock slammed down his phone, brutally cutting off the data transmission from Mac's computer, whose mouth was still opening and closing but no sound could be heard.

  He immediately turned into a white flower-like spot.

  Sherlock rewound the video back to a certain segment before.

  Ludwig's voice came through clearly in Sherlock's earpiece.

  "...He is sincere and not hypocritical; he has done many praiseworthy things - although he himself does not think so, but never boasts about it..."

  "...His persistence in seeking truth is touching..."

  "...but in my opinion, Sherlock Holmes is the most real one..."

  "...but Sherlock Holmes isn't, no matter how many people around him mock and misunderstand him, he's always doing what he wants to do, right?"

  Sherlock stared at the computer screen, his eyes as still and grey as a London sky on a windless day.

  He kept a close eye on Ludwig's every move.

  When Ludwig spoke, he would often tap his fingers on his knee in a rhythmic manner - this was something he had in common with MacLeod.

  Her voice kept coming over——

  "...Sherlock Holmes has one advantage..."

  "...and I also don't think it's likely that I would consider someone with an IQ higher than Einstein's as my friend - being able to be roommates is already unexpected..."

  "...There's no special relationship between us, I'm just praising him based on an objective evaluation..."

  ……

  Sherlock pursed his lips and replayed the video from start to finish again.

  He looked at it while quickly jotting down a string of numbers in his small black notebook.

  Then he rewound the video back to the second Ludwig left.

  On screen, after Ludwig walks away, McRoft turns around.

  He stood with his hands behind him in front of a giant screen displaying a photo of himself, and smiled faintly.

  "See? Sherlock, your little friend isn't a horse that's easily tamed."

  He sat elegantly in the place where Ludwig had just been sitting, with his legs crossed.

  It is also where the camera is facing directly.

  A gigantic mural covering half of the wall, Queen Victoria's eyes are hidden in the shadow of the lamp light, with a solemn expression.

  Under high-definition camera shooting, not to mention subtle facial expressions, even pores can be seen clearly.

  "Test your little friend thoroughly, Sherlock, if she foolishly conceals the fact that she met me today, it means——"

  MacRae's right hand drummed irregularly on his knee, sometimes merely vibrating, sometimes actually drumming.

  He smiled with joy.

  “She hesitated, seriously considering whether to decide to be loyal to me, and whether to stay by your side as a spy watching you.”

  ……

  People generally make unconscious small movements when speaking, like MacGyver's, with no rules, only changing with the rhythm of speech and the ups and downs of emotions.

  Moreover, the movements of both hands should be roughly symmetrical and not greatly different.

  Sherlock stared at a string of numbers on his notebook.

  Right hand

  One, two, three, four, two.

  Three, four, five, three.

  Then she skillfully changed fingers, her thumb inserted into the middle of her fingers, and began to cycle.

  The left hand is always striking the middle finger.

  ……

  Sherlock put down his notebook, and his eyes narrowed slightly behind his long eyelashes.

  The melody deeply understood in one's heart is expressed through unconscious movements, which is very common among those who have been learning musical instruments for a long time.

  Ludwig's way of tapping his fingers is characteristic.

  That's not just an unconscious action, it's a melody.

  That is Bach's Toccata in D minor.