\t\tDiet Detective

Mrs. Hudson, the landlady of Sherlock Holmes, has suffered a lot for a long time. Not only does she have strange and often disgusting guests on the second floor, but even the life of her famous tenant is strange. Without any rules, she can't stand the patience. His lack of tidyness is simply unimaginable: he likes to listen to music at special times; practices marksmanship in the room; performs strange scientific experiments that often smell bad, and he is often shrouded in violence and danger, which makes him a notorious tenant in London. However, the rent he paid is very high. Needless to say, the rent he gave for me in the years with Mr. Holmes had long been able to buy the house.

The landlord's wife was very afraid of him, but no matter how unbearable his life was, she never dared to care about him. She loved him very much because he was always very gentle and polite in front of women. Although he did not love or trust women, he would never change as a chivalrous betrayer. Because I understood that she cared for him sincerely, so, the second year after my marriage, the landlord's wife came to my house and said to me that my poor companion was living a very miserable life, and I listened to her telling him attentively.

"He won't live long, Dr. Watson," she said to me, "He is very ill, and he will die today without eating or drinking for three days. He will not let me go to the doctor. This morning, I saw the cheekbones on both sides of his face raised high and his eyes staring at me. I really couldn't stand it. 'Whether you agree or disagree, Mr. Holmes, I'll go and invite the doctor right away,' I said. 'Then call Watson,' he said. For his life, hurry up, sir, or you may not see him."

I was very surprised because I didn't know anything about him being sick. So I quickly put on my clothes and hat without saying a word. On the way, I asked her to tell me the specific situation.

"Actually, there is nothing to say, sir. Recently, he has been discussing a disease. In a small riverside alley near Rossheit, he brought it back when he came back. He has never gotten up since he was lying in bed on Sunday afternoon. He has not had a sip of water or a sip of rice for three days."

"Oh! God! Why don't you go and call a doctor?"

"He doesn't allow it, sir. He is very stubborn, you understand. I dare not disobey his words. He doesn't have much time left. When you see him later, you will know everything."

His appearance was really miserable. It was November, and there was fog in the sky, and under the dark light, the narrow ward looked very gloomy. But what was even more terrible was that the thin and shriveled face on the bed, due to the high fever, had red eyes, red cheeks, black lips, and cracked skin. Two hands without any strength were placed on the bed sheet, trembling constantly, and their voices were hoarse and rapid. When I walked into the room, he lay down like a dead person. Seeing me, a glimmer flashed in his eyes, and he recognized me.

"Hey, Watson, I think our unlucky days have come," he said, trembling with his breath, but his indifferent nature is still there.

"Oh! My poor friend!" I shouted excitedly and walked towards him.

"Stay away from me! Stay away from me right away!" he shouted with all his might. His extremely nervous look made me realize the danger of things, "If you want to get close to me, Watson, I'll ask you to go out immediately."

"Why?"

"Because I want to do this, isn't that possible?"

That's right. Mrs. Hudson was right. He was more arrogant and stubborn than ever before. But looking at his haggard face made people feel sympathetic.

"I just want to help you," I explained.

"That's great, the best way you can help me is to do whatever I say."

"No problem, Mr. Holmes."

His serious face changed a little.

"You won't be angry, are you?" He asked me angrily.

"What a pitiful person. I can't get up even if I have such thoughts. Can I get angry?"

"I do this for your own good, Watson," he said in a hoarse and faint voice.

"For my good?"

"I know very well what happened to me. I contracted a coolie disease that came from Sumatra. The Dutch understood this disease better than us. Although so far, they have not found a treatment solution. But one thing is absolutely, it is a very terrible disease and is extremely contagious."

He didn't have any strength when he spoke, and seemed to be burning very hard. His big hands were shaking and swaying, keeping me away from him.

"It will be contagious if you are too close to me, Watson, yes, you will not be contagious if you stay away from me."

"Oh! God, Holmes! Do you think this can stop me? Even people who don't know each other can't stop me. Do you think this can make me give up my duty to a good friend I have known for many years?"

I approached him again, but he roared at me like an angry lion.

"If you stop moving forward, I will tell you everything. Otherwise, you will go out of this room immediately."

I have always respected Holmes' noble qualities very much, and I am very obedient to him, even if sometimes I don't understand what's going on. However, the nature of my career at present prompts me to do that. I can do whatever else I say, but in this ward, I must dominate him.

"Holmes," I said softly, "Your condition is very serious. Sick people should be as good as children. I want to check your condition. Whether you object or not, I must immediately check you and treat you with the disease."

His eyes were filled with anger when he stared at me.

"If I had to see a doctor, I would have to invite a doctor I could see anyway." He said.

"In that case, do you look down on my medical skills?"

"The friendship between us has nothing to say. However, things are prioritized. Watson, you are just an ordinary doctor after all, and you don't have much experience and are not qualified enough. It's really a shame to say these words, but you forced me to say them."

These words really hurt me deeply.

"These words should not be said from your mouth. Sherlock Holmes, you look down on me, and I will not force you to accept them. I will help you invite Sir Jasper Mick or Penrose Fisher, or the doctor with the most skilled medical skills in London. No matter what, you must find a doctor to see you. If you think I can see you in a terminal illness and not even a doctor will invite you, then you can only say that you do not know your friend, Watson!"

"I know you're kind, Watson," said Sherlock Holmes, like a sob, or a moan, "Do you have to tell me what you are deficient? I ask you: Do you know about Tabanuli fever? Do you know about Formosa's black sepsis?"

"I don't know both diseases."

"Warson, there are many rare diseases in the East, and many strange pathological phenomena." He paused as he said to maintain his faint breath.

"In recent times, I have studied some things about medical crimes and gained a lot from them. During the research, I was infected with this disease, and I couldn't help it."

"Maybe as you said. But I heard that Dr. Einstery is now in London. He is one of the authorities in the world who is still alive. Stop being stubborn, Mr. Holmes. I will invite him right away." I turned firmly and walked out the door.

I had never felt so frightened! He jumped up from the bed and blocked me like a ferocious tiger. The sound of his locking the door reached my ears. A few seconds later, he swayed onto the bed again. After this anger, he consumed a lot of his energy and was extremely tired. He lay on the bed and gasped.

"You won't forcefully take away the keys from my hand, Watson, I will leave you. My partner, I don't allow you to leave, you can't leave. But I will satisfy you." (He was very struggling when he said these words, and took a big breath of air with one word.) "You are all for my own good, and I know very well that you are free now, but give me some time to adjust my strength. At present, Watson, it's not possible. It's four o'clock and six o'clock, I allow you to leave."

"You're really nervous, Holmes."

"It will never be more than two hours, Watson. I will definitely let you leave here at six o'clock. Do you want to wait?"

"It seems that I have no other way."

"Absolutely, Watson. Thank you, I don't need you to help me make the bed. I hope you stand a little further. Watson, there is another thing I want to tell you. You can help me invite a doctor, but I should choose the people you find, not you should choose."

"no problem."

"'No problem' is the first nice thing you say after entering the room. Watson, there is a book over there. I don't have the strength. When a battery is input into a non-conductor, I don't understand what the battery will do. At six o'clock, Watson, I'll talk to you again."

However, before six o'clock arrived, I could not speak with him, for sure, but this situation made me feel the same horror as the time he rushed to the door. I stood blankly for a while, staring at his silent figure on the hospital bed. His face seemed to be covered by a quilt. He seemed to be asleep. I could not sit and read books, so I had to walk gently in the room, looking at the photos of famous criminals posted on the surrounding walls. I walked over absent-mindedly. Later, I stood in front of the mantel. There were some messy items on it, such as pipes and cigarettes.

There was a silk bag, syringe, knife, pistol bullet and other things. There was also an ivory box made of exquisite black and white, with a small lid on it, which could move. This little thing was pretty. I reached out to pick it up, hoping to see it more clearly. At this time, Holmes roared - I'm afraid that pedestrians on the street could hear this roar. Hearing this terrifying cry, I immediately felt cold all over my body and goose bumps all over my body. I turned my head and saw a twitching face and a pair of terrified eyes. I was stunned by him holding the small box in my hand.

"Let it go! Let it go quickly, Watson! I order you to put it down immediately!" His head fell on the pillow again, and after I put the small box back on the mantel, he sighed fiercely. "I don't like anyone touching me, Watson. I don't like it, you already know this. You made me unable to bear it. You hateful doctor, you are really driving me crazy. Don't go anywhere, brother, I want to have a sleep!"

This accidental incident made me very unhappy. At first, he was barbaric and unreasonable excitement, but later he said such unreasonable words. His usual affable attitude was completely different from that at this moment. This shows how unconscious his head was. Among all disasters, the destruction of wisdom is the most regrettable! I don’t want to say another word, and I was in a very bad mood, quietly waiting for the time he set. I stared at the clock intently, and he seemed to be staring at the clock, because after six o’clock, he started talking to me, as full of vitality as before.

"At this moment, Watson," he said, "do you have change in your pocket?"

"have."

"Are there any silver coins?"

“Very much.”

"How many are there half a kroner?"

“There are five.”

"Oh, so few! So little! Too bad luck, Watson! But even if it's so small, you'd better put them in your pocket, and the remaining money is in the pocket of your left pants, thank you very much. In this way, you won't lose balance."

It was simply nonsense. He began to twitch and made another sound like a cough and a whimper.

"Now, you light the gas lamp, Watson, but be careful, just half of it, I ask you to be careful, Watson. Thank you very much. Don't pull the blinds, please put the letter and newspaper on this table, I can get it. Thank you, and bring some of the messy items on the mantel. That's great, Watson! There's a sugar cube on it. Please clip the ivory box here with a clip and put it on the newspaper. That's great! You can now go and invite Coverton Smith, who lives at 13 Lower Burke Street."

To be honest, I no longer feel like I'm going to hire a doctor, because my poor friend is in a coma now. What if he has any accidents after I leave? However, now he wants to designate the doctor to treat him, and he is very eager, just as stubborn as he did when he didn't let me invite a doctor just now.

"I've never heard of this name." I said.

"Maybe you really don't know, my dear Watson. After I told you, you may be very surprised. The professional who can cure this disease is not a doctor, but a planter. Now Mr. Coverton Smith is visiting London, and he is a very famous figure in Sumatra. In his plantation, there is a kind of epidemic that has appeared. Because there is no medical rescue, he has to explore it himself and gain a lot. He is very principled. I don't let you go before six o'clock because I know that he was not in the study at that time and you can't find him. If you can invite him, he is an expert in treating this disease, and it is no problem to cure my disease - his biggest hobby is the study of this disease - I absolutely believe that he will cure my disease."

Sherlock Holmes' words were not intermittent and could not be expressed clearly, but I don't want to describe his uneasy expression when he spoke, and I don't want to describe his hands that were tortured by the disease. From the few hours I was with him, it can be seen that his illness was getting worse and worse: the hot spots became more and more visible, the light emitted from the deep dark sockets was even more terrifying, and sweat was constantly on his forehead. However, the unique free demeanor he talked with had never changed. Even when only the last breath was left, he would not change his position as a dominant.

"Tell him in detail what I am now," he said. "You must tell all the real feelings in your heart, such as dying! I'm confused. Indeed, I couldn't think of why not make a whole oyster into a beach. Oh! I'm confused! It's so strange. My brain needs to control my brain! What did I say, Watson?"

"Let me invite Mr. Cofeton Smith."

"Wow, that's right, I remembered it. My life is in his hands. Go and invite him, Watson. I'm not very friendly with him. He has a nephew, Watson. I once doubted that there was any conspiracy there, and I let him understand this. The boy died very miserably. Smith hated me so much. You must invite him, Watson. Even if you beg him, in short, try every means to invite him. He can make me live - only he can save me!"

"If that's the case, then I'll just force him into the carriage and pull him back."

"This is not good. You should let him come with you willingly. But you must come here before he comes. No matter what reason you use, you must never come with him. Remember, Watson. I believe you will do it well. I have always believed in you very much. The reproduction of creatures must be limited by natural enemies. Watson, we have both done what we should do. In this way, will the oysters of breeding cover the world? Impossible, impossible, how terrifying! You have to say everything you think in your heart."

He was muttering like a silly child, and I would let him go. He gave me the key, and I was so happy that he took it right away, otherwise he would lock him in the room. Mrs. Hudson was still standing in the aisle, waiting, trembling and sobbing. I left the house and heard the sharp and thin sound of Holmes behind me. Downstairs, when I was about to greet the carriage, a figure came over the fog.

"What the hell is Mr. Holmes? Mr.," he asked me.

When I got closer, I realized that I was an old friend - Sheriff Morton of the London Police Department. He was wearing tweed plainclothes.

"He got very serious," I said.

His eyes were particularly weird when he looked at me. I didn't want to have any vicious thoughts. Looking at his face from the headlights, I felt that he seemed very proud.

"I've heard some rumors that he's sick," he said.

The carriage drove forward and I separated from him.

The formerly the junction of Nottinghill and Kensington, the houses in this place were very good, without obvious boundaries. The carriage stopped in front of a house. It was an old-fashioned house with a shining copper bull and double doors showing a decent and solemn noble style. A very orthodox butler appeared at the door, and the light red lights shot out from behind him. He was very well matched with everything here.

"Mr. Cofeton Smith is in the house, Dr. Watson! I'll give you the business card to him."

I am a man of no fame, and Mr. Cofeton Smith would not care too much about me. From the half-closed door, a loud, irritable and unpleasant voice came to my ears.

"Who is here? What's wrong with him? Hello, Steepal, I've told you a lot. As long as I'm doing research, I won't meet anyone. Have you forgotten?"

The butler carefully gave him some consolational explanation.

"Oh, I see no one, Steepal. I will not interrupt my work. I am not at home, just tell him like that. If he must meet me, let him come again tomorrow morning."

The figure of Sherlock Holmes being tortured by pain continued to appear in my mind. He was waiting in pain, waiting for me to bring him good news. This is no longer the time to be polite. The length of my work is directly related to his life and death. The butler who made his master angry had not come out to convey his master's words, I had already broken into the door.

The man sitting on a stool beside the fire immediately stood up and roared like a lion. He saw a waxy face, covered with flesh, as if oil had been oozed out; his fat and large double chin was staring at me, and his eyes were gloomy and terrible, with brown eyebrows on his eyes furry, and red curly hair pretended to be fashionable to cover a velvet smoking hat. His head was very big, but when I looked down, I couldn't help but be very surprised. This person's body was thin and small, with his shoulders and back hunched, as if he had suffered some strange disease when he was young.

"What the hell is it?" he shouted loudly, "Why did you break in like this? Didn't I tell you? Let you come again tomorrow morning!"

"Very sorry, sir," I said, "It's so urgent. Mr. Sherlock Holmes..."

Hearing my partner's name, the short man in front of him changed abnormally. His face disappeared immediately, showing a nervous and vigilant look.

"Where are you from Sherlock Holmes?" he said.

"I just came from him."

"How is Holmes? How is he doing lately?"

"He is very ill, I'm here to find you because of this."

He motioned for me to sit down, and he himself sat down on a chair. At this moment, my face was glanced through a mirror on the wall of the fireplace. I dare say that a vicious and sinister smile appeared from his face, but I immediately thought that maybe a certain nerve of mine was accidentally pulled, which caused a state of tension, because a few seconds later, when he turned around and looked at me, the expression on his face was sincere care.

"I was very sad to hear this unfortunate news," he said. "I met Mr. Holmes only through a few businesses, but I admire his talent and character very much. He often explores criminology when he is idle, and I often explores pathology when he is idle. He catches bad guys, and I kills bacteria. Those are my prisons." He said, pointing at some bottles and jars on a small table. "Of the gum cultured here, there are the most vicious criminals in the world who are serving their sentences."
To be continued...