[Zhongyingmei] That snake

"Doctor Lecter" Oliver stood on the stairs in front of the door, frowning at the two people in front of the SUV.

The door of the back seat was opened, Will still pulled the blanket tightly and curled up on the seat, while Hannibal squatted halfway outside the car, held Will's pale hand, and raised his head to talk to him.

The concern on his face was so real, and Will's fingers didn't feel his grip on Hannibal's palm, even though he hung his head, not looking into Hannibal's eyes, his face was blank and expressionless.

"I informed him." Crawford held a cigarette between his fingers, and Oliver avoided the scarlet butt and the swirling fog without a trace, "Will's condition is very unstable now, I think Dr. Lecter can help. "

Hannibal turned his head suddenly, his gaze piercing through the thick fog to Oliver and Crawford who were watching him.

Beasts always have a keen intuition that surpasses other creatures, both for self-protection and for predation.

Oliver didn't avoid Hannibal's gaze. He didn't know if it was an illusion, but he saw a smile from Hannibal's still concerned expression.

Sarcasm can't be said to be ridiculed, but it definitely has bad intentions.

It seems that there is a fierce beast in the Colosseum in ancient Rome, but it is more free of bondage and slavery. It may be defeated by human gladiators, but more often the torn corpses of gladiators become its meal.

Now, before a new jousting game officially begins, it rolls out a low growl from its throat with great interest, stimulating the gladiators in front of it.

Hannibal took off his coat and draped it over Will's shoulders, closed the car door for him, and asked Will to roll up the car windows to block the cold air that kept pouring in from the outside.

There was a layer of white mist in the raised car window, which was blurred by Will's wet breath against the window glass, and he could only see Hannibal walking towards the door of his house through this hazy film. Walking back.

Will's eyes widened and he pressed his forehead against the window glass without a word.

Hannibal approached, standing under the steps in front of the door, his vision was naturally a bit shorter than Oliver and Crawford.

Probably because he arrived in a hurry, although his dark golden hair was carefully combed, there was no time to carefully apply hairspray. The hair hangs on his forehead, and with his weak angle, it looks like a harmless person. concerned friends.

"Jack, what's next for Will?" Hannibal asked.

Crawford threw the cigarette butt on the ground casually, and his dark leather shoes extinguished the fire, leaving a black mark on the wooden floor.

However, on the already somewhat old and mottled wooden boards, it is just an inconspicuous small modification.

"It's not up to me to decide."

"Then... will you be charged with murder? Jack, Will is a federal agent, doing all this just to better solve the case. So this..."

Consciously or unconsciously, Hannibal hid the second half of the sentence in silence, leaving it to Crawford to think for himself.

"So that's not true, Dr. Lecter," Oliver said. "You don't have to make a decision, Agent Crawford. Will will stay at BSU until the Chesapeake Ripper is caught. After that, if he wants to leave, then It’s really not up to you to decide.”

Two people at the same time.He set his sights on Oliver.

Oliver turned his head slightly and glanced at the team members who were still busy in the room. What they had to do was to further inspect the scene and try to find clues that could support Oliver's conclusion.

They had to find a way to hide Oliver's abilities.

"Will didn't murder Abigail. Or rather, Abigail isn't dead."

"Why do you say that?" Hannibal had a gleam in his eyes.

"Because, she didn't have to die." Oliver licked his lips, "Think about it, who will come to kill Abigail, the revenge of the victim's family? No, they won't come all the way from Minnesota, Not to dare to break into an FBI's house. Will, you all know his talent." Oliver looked up at Hannibal, "If one day he really wants to murder someone, can we really find out?"

The corner of Hannibal's mouth rose a few tenths of a degree, "It's difficult, his empathy ability makes him very easy to fall into the emotions of others, including the serial killers he has dealt with, we can't tell them apart, and we can't find them."

"He didn't need to kill Abigail. I think he likes this girl quite a bit. Doctor Lecter, you and Will both regard Abigail as a daughter. No matter whether Abigail is dead or alive, if something like this happens, please Don't be too sad." Don't forget your disguise, too.

There was a hint of sadness in Lecter's eyes at the right time.

"Abigail is a good girl, she shouldn't have to go through this. Also, I think Will might be the one who needs more guidance - if it wasn't him."

"Yeah." Oliver let out a sarcastic laugh, why would anyone hurt Abigail?The murderer's move was not for Abigail, but for the people around her, such as Will and you, the doctor.

The murderer knew Will very well, including the cases he handled, his life, and his emotions. 'Be careful of those around you. 'Doctor Lecter, please pass this on to Will, I think he will listen to his psychiatrist. Oliver took a step forward and stood in front of Crawford, his back to him.

"I will." Hannibal saw that the serious expression on Oliver's face disappeared in an instant, replaced by a ready-to-go smile that curled the corner of his mouth, but he was an ogre, and Oliver, the terrorist who exploded fireworks everywhere, hated him. I have piled it up, and I will never be afraid of him if I am serious.

Hnibal was sure the look was directed at him, the agent seemed frighteningly sharp.

Since Hannibal was facing Crawford, unable to respond in the same way, he repeated, with another layer of meaning, "I will."

"Can I take Will to my clinic?"

"Doctor, don't worry, Will will go back to the police station for evidence collection, even if he is not the murderer." Crawford said, Crawford hoped that Will was not the murderer, and did not refute Oliver's words for the time being.

"Of course." Hannibal nodded.

"We will inform you of any important news, sorry for calling you here so early."

"Will is also my friend, this is what I should do." After Hannibal bid farewell politely, he exchanged a few words with Will before driving away.

All right, the players are all in place.The game can begin.

————————————————————————————————————————

"Sherlock? What the hell are you trying to do?" John rushed down after the sound of footsteps on the stairs, yelling at a three-year-old who was making noise in the middle of the night.

Sherlock waved the culprit of the noise - his violin. "As you can see, I'm thinking."

"Do you know what time it is?"

"Two thirty-seven in the morning."

John took a deep breath, and looked at the innocent detective with a headache, "You'll disturb the neighbors, Sherlock."

"My dear John, do you know how many people in our neighborhood have received checks from that fat man?"

"That's right, I'm the only idiot who refused." John sat on the sofa and propped his forehead helplessly, "This will affect Mrs. Hudson."

Sherlock tucked his chin in, staring at John seriously, it was long enough that John was about to speak, but Sherlock's extremely fast speaking was the first to break the silence.

"Mrs. Hudson is playing rock music now."

"What?"

"Didn't you hear that just now?"

I thought your silence just now was to organize your words and explain to me. John complained silently in his heart. He even forgot to complain about Mrs. Hudson listening to rock music.

"Okay, okay, so what are you thinking about when you stay up in the middle of the night? Isn't that case defined by you as a three-star during the day?"

"Yeah, a three-star case. Jesus, it's boring." Sherlock waved his hand dismissively. "I was thinking of something else."

He put the violin aside and picked up the laptop instead in front of John.

"Look at this website. I thought the modus operandi of these psychopaths was novel but incoherent, not even three stars. But this Chesapeake Ripper is different, and , look at this comment."

"If the Chesapeake Ripper was a cannibal." John read the words, frowning afterward.

When he and Sherlock were investigating cases together, he also encountered many psychopathic killers, but such complete psychopathy as reported on the Crime Disclosure website were extremely rare in the UK, let alone a serial ogre.

"But wait. Sherlock, I remember I put my notebook away in my room."

"John, do you know? Electromagnetic waves generated by electronic products can affect people's sleep, so when this machine started to receive messages, I took it out, so that you can have a good dream." Sherlock's facial muscles were very flexible The corners of his mouth were drawn into a smirk, and the corners of his eyes were full of creases.

As a military doctor who has been on the battlefield, John said that he really wanted to beat this bastard.

"So, what do you think of this conclusion?"

"As a conjecture, it's possible." Sherlock crossed his hands in a tower shape and put them on his chin. "If the murderer is indeed a cannibal, then we can get some other inferences. For example, his The frequency of crimes is not low, but his time and methods of committing crimes make him a single man living alone, but every time he has to remove a large amount of internal organs, it shows that he likes to share his spoils, and he will like to hold dinner parties.

If so.He probably isn't a bad cook either. "

"How interesting John, these serial killers in the United States commit crimes not for money or hard work, but to satisfy their own little hobby. Let's go to the United States, abandon that boring and meaningless three-star case, and find Find it here, anonymous commenter."

"Wait, how do you know this person must be in the United States?"

"Oh, it's very simple. We just need to follow his login method and find his associated social account." With that said, Sherlock clicked on a blog page.

"You are using my account."

"Yes, I don't have a social account, and there are mostly useless information on social web pages. Instead of loading them in my mind and deleting them, I might as well not read them. Oh, bytheway your blog posts are well written."

John blushed a little, who let the protagonists in the article be Sherlock and himself?And he also lavishly praised Sherlock's miraculous ability to judge cases in the article.

Sherlock quickly moved the mouse over the pictures and text on the blog page.

"His grammar and diction are American English, but the evidence for that is thin, but look at these pictures."

The update frequency is not high, it is basically photos or a few dishes in the mountains and forests, and there have never been people or any landmarks.

"The ash trees in this landscape photo, the wild ash trees in patches can only be seen in the United States. Although the perspectives of these photos are different, judging from the distribution of vegetation, this is the same place, which is in the middle of the United States. North. Combined with the time and time difference of his reply on the crime revealing website, it can be inferred. He lives in the United States."

"Well, Sherlock, this question is actually very simple." John said after seeing the simple blog homepage, "You just need to click on his profile."

Sherlock was silent for a moment, during which John did hear Mrs Hudson playing rock music.

Sherlock did as he was told, but the profile was almost blank, but at least it filled in male gender and American nationality.

"Your little brain is spinning, John," Sherlock said with mock surprise. "Who do you think will pay attention to the Crime Disclosure Network?

"Deduction buffs." John couldn't think of anything, there wouldn't be another consulting detective in the world.

"No, it's not. He's a professional, not just a hobbyist. You can see that there are no people in his photos, or anything that can determine the specific location. Of course, ordinary people can't find the problem of pewter.

He has a strong desire to protect his personal privacy, and he really understands the skills in this area. Looking at the release time of his blog, it is basically around [-]:[-] or [-]:[-] pm based on the East Coast time zone.He is a public official with a regular job, and it's a busy job.The conjecture that he was a cannibal is definitely not groundless, and he must know more about the case than the website reporter Frredie, which means that he may have participated in the investigation of this case, the police or..."

"Oh. Why didn't I think of that." Sherlock clicked on another Crime Uncovered report, a photo of the BAU's investigation outside Baltimore.

"The only one who knows about this kind of serial murder case is the FBI, except for the local police station that handles the case. Baltimore used to have a BSU. But apparently their investigation has made little progress, and in recent days, the BAU team has also arrived in Baltimore to investigate another case , they must have had some knowledge of the unsolved Chesapeake Ripper Ripper case."

Sherlock sighed, "BAU and Scotland Yard also had intersections before. Although their efficiency in solving crimes is not as high as the two of us, it is true that this group has raised the overall IQ of the FBI."

"John, tomorrow, no, right now, now we're going to the United States, I'm going to investigate this case." Sherlock stood up excitedly, his pajamas were the same as the windbreaker he wore every day, and drew an arc in the air, bringing him up A gust of wind hit John in the face.

"Sherlock, I have a date with Masha tomorrow." John frowned, not going to agree to this whimsical idea.

"Masha" Sherlock stopped dancing, "Didn't you break up with Masha three months ago? Your current girlfriend is called Lina."

"Lina no no no," John shook his head, "her name is Masha, just Masha."

But he began to question himself again "I remember wrong"

"Yes, you remember wrongly," Sherlock repeated firmly.

"Oh come on, John, you can't even tell their names, forget about this date. I'm sure you won't want to get slapped again." Sherlock put his arm around John's shoulders, "Go to America, let's Would have a wonderful date with the case."

In the end, the two still didn't go to the United States. After all, the neighbors have the checks, so it's impossible to do nothing, right?

Sherlock was stopped when booking a plane ticket, and Mycroft propped up his black umbrella and said, "Stay well in the country and don't run around."

Sherlock shrugged, noncommittal.

Mycroft was used to his younger brother's temperament, "If you have nothing to do, go and investigate this case."

Today the female assistant named Anna handed Sherlock a document.

"Trafficking gang? It's not in my business."

"You need to check him. They need you to check." Mycroft drew out.

Of course, John didn't complete his date in the end, because he called Lina to a girl named Masha.

Just when Lina was about to slap him, Sherlock, dressed as a waiter, came up in time to make a rescue. John didn't know how many circles Sherlock had with Lina?

In short, the lady named Masha was so moved that she had tears in her eyes and covered her mouth and said, "Your story is so touching. Get married quickly and don't be disturbed by worldly eyes."

He ran away as soon as he said that, leaving only John with a masked face and Sherlock with an innocent face.

"It's time for John. Next, you should accompany me to investigate the case."

————————————————————————————————————————

"What can you tell from these things?" On the table in front of Crawford were all kinds of evidence brought back from Will's house.

Will had already replaced his blood-stained T-shirt.

"I can deduce that... I am the murderer." He raised his eyes to look at the crowd, more than half of those gray-green eyes were covered by shadows, without the flowing brilliance.

"But you're not the murderer, Will." Oliver said firmly, rubbing his forehead.

"I don't remember what I saw, but every piece of evidence pointed to me as the murderer."

"Why do you think Will is not the murderer?" Crawford asked suddenly, causing Will to tremble, and the curly hair, with the movement of lowering his head, blocked his vision.

Oliver leaned forward, leaning his arms against the table, and stared at Crawford. "Don't you trust Agent Graham?"

Crawford pouted, not knowing how to answer.

"Of course, you can also regard me as a magic stick. From my point of view, the murderer is someone else."

Crawford's spirit was already stretched by a thread, and this sentence was like a spark sticking to the thin thread soaked in grease, making a crackling sound.

"Of course I trust Will, and it is because I trust him that I affirm his judgment."

"But you don't trust his personality." Oliver remained motionless, continuing to watch Crawford almost wanting to shoot him.

"Williams..."

"Agent Crawford."

Hotch called out Crawford, "The opinion that Detective Graham is not the murderer in this case was reached by our entire team. I hope you can trust our ability and judgment."

"Of course." Crawford took a deep breath, tugged at the tight collar of his shirt, suppressed his anger, and connected the wire in his mind again, "You think the murderer is someone else."

"Not that. We're sure it was someone else. This guy knew BSU. He was a veteran criminal."

"Agent Graham. Put aside your stubborn belief that you were the murderer. Who do you think took Abigail." Hotch lowered his voice.

"I don't know, I don't remember." Will looked up, slightly lost in thought. "I just remember taking her fishing. It was getting dark and I saw a flickering light in the woods and it kept flickering. Abigail followed me. It wasn't short or long and I didn't even know I was When did it lose its meaning, when I wake up again," Will.Leaning on the back of the chair and shrinking his shoulders, "Later, you should all know what happened in my family."

"Will, who do you think would do this? Take Abigail away, and create a false impression of death. This is not just to frame you, but to change your psychological state."

"The Chesapeake Ripper," Will said. "I was looking for him, and he knew I was looking for him. He took Abigail. Whether I go to jail or not, it will affect my investigation later, or Terminate my investigation. He didn't do it before because it wasn't time to do it. Now he has to. Because... because I'm close to finding him, and he senses a crisis looming."

"He's someone close to you. For that, figure out who he is? Feel free to ask.

"I don't think so," Will shook his head tremblingly, "I have someone like that around me."

"Will. There is one thing I have to tell you, don't take it emotionally." Oliver's words stopped here, and the rest was understood by eyes.

Obviously Will's ability to understand is extremely strong, he understood the rest of Oliver's words, 'Don't interfere with your judgment because of his relationship with your lover. '

That's the Chesapeake Ripper.

"Well, Will." Oliver made a suggestion to the hesitant Will. "Let's talk together and see if the answer is the same?"

Will nodded silently.

"Hannibal"

"Doctor Lecter."

The huge conference room fell silent in an instant, and the ending sounds of the two seemed to be still echoing in this empty room, allowing everyone to hear these two passages clearly without missing a single word. "

"Looks like we've reached an agreement, doesn't it?"

"You're serious" Crawford was clearly taken aback by the result.

"I'm not joking, Jack." Will said quietly, "I should have found out sooner."

Hannibal said more than once that 'we're alike', sometimes seriously, sometimes like shit.But it is undeniable that Will is indeed attracted by the same traits in the two. Apart from love, this is the reason why he subconsciously is even more reluctant to believe that Hannibal is the Chesapeake Ripper.

The two of them are very similar.

"But we have no evidence to arrest Lecter now." Crawford said awkwardly.

"Do you know why Hannibal Lecter took body parts of his victims?"

Crawford didn't continue, he waited for Will's answer.

"Because, the Chesapeake Ripper ate them." Will shook his head lightly, "He's completely different from Jacob, and Jacob sees those girls as a substitute, for... Abigail. He treats their bodies with care, not wasting every inch of skin, hair. Because he thinks these girls should be treated like this."

“But the Chesapeake Ripper was different. Remember the first time we found a corpse with antlers on it? He was almost shaming the victim. Calling him a Copycat, we were really wrong.

He disdains imitation.Maybe he'll be a cat, but not a kitten staring at a mirror with teeth and paws, but a big cat that walks at night.When he sees one of his kind walking in his domain, he is amused and ridiculed at the same time. "

"How does he choose his victims?"

"He must have a list. But I don't know why the victim is on this list."

"The Chesapeake Ripper was always cautious and we have to wait now."

This kind of thing always makes people feel a little hopeless. Obviously they already know who the murderer is, but they suffer from no evidence. They can only wait until the next victim lies in a pool of blood with his eyes wide open. A new round of profiling and arresting operations can only begin after the bright light of the lamp flashes once.

Because, the Chesapeake Ripper devoured those victims like lambs before the flames, and the last time he committed a crime was the disappearance of Abigail.But apparently, the lucky girl didn't die.

They couldn't find any residue in Lecter's freezer.

If they're unlucky, they might have to wait until Lecter's next big dinner, with guests listening to classical music in the stately-lit dining room.Beautiful fresh blooming flowers and carefully selected purple-red berries are placed in a silver basin in the center of the long dining table, and the attractive color of the sauce flows on the silver tableware.

The delicate meat is cut into small pieces by knives and forks and sent between the teeth of those unsuspecting celebrities with bright lipstick.

The sound of knives and forks colliding with cutlery was clear and pleasant. The host of the banquet stood up and greeted all the guests with red wine, "There are no vegetarians here."

The guests stopped chewing, put down their knives and forks, and pinched the delicate glass of the goblet with long or fat fingers. Together with the solid junction, the light of the crystal lamp falls, refracting the light like stars.

Their voices were in unison celebrating the sin of the host of the banquet.

"The Chesapeake Ripper will be doing it again soon. Keep the local police on the lookout for bodies in the next few weeks," Hotch said.

Oliver told him all the inferences, including his provocation of Hannibal.Although he didn't explain why he decided that Hannibal was the Chesapeake Ripper.

But Hotch trusted his decision completely.

Judging from the bad nature of the Chesapeake Ripper, Oliver's sarcastic smile was not the biggest cause of stirring up waves in his heart, but because he saw through the disguise of other people's skin.

It made Hannibal a little irritated, but the killer's instincts drove his brain to fire and agitate.

He wasn't a coward who would stop committing crimes just because he was caught, and even if he was caught by the FBI, he would have a hundred ways to defend himself and the worst result would be tossed into a mental hospital.

Coupled with the humanitarian spirit that the United States must have in dealing with murderers and the dispositions of the so-called experts and scholars in psychology, he will not live too badly, and he can even start a new game method that he has not tried before.

However, his desire to win made him hope to win this game even more.As for the new method that has not yet begun, let him be PlanB.

"Regarding the way he chooses his victims," ​​Hotch continued, "I'll have the BAU technicians look up his youth and childhood data, and we need to do a detailed test together."

Even knowing that the chances of saving the next victim are slim, one has to try.

Because it is a living human life, not a guinea pig lying on the experimental table to be slaughtered, and can be ignored at will.

I believe that every BAU member will be confused and suspicious when faced with such helpless progress. They already have some clues, and they are trying their best to track down the murderer.

However, the murderer still claimed many lives under their intense concentration.

They will feel guilty and think, if they can hurry up and find the murderer, will this life not go to heaven?

However, whether profiling is a god, let alone pretending to be a ghost.Profiling is almost the most effective tool for catching perverted killers, and the detection rate of the BAU team has always been at the forefront of the FBI.

No matter how reluctant they are, they can only accept this fact. They have to watch some lives go by to get more evidence and save more lives.

It is a burden that weighs on every heart.

"Hannibal told me that he was from Eastern Europe, had been to Italy, and later immigrated to the United States." Will tried to find out the key words in the conversation between him and Hannibal.

Hannibal rarely talked about his past, and his relationship with Will was probably the closest he had had in years, body and soul.

But only when the two of you are alone, the street is empty, the night sky is quiet, only the occasional crackle of the peach resin burning in the fireplace makes you feel the flow of time, then Hannibal will hand Will a glass of wine and talk to him Your own past, your own family.

Will had always believed that psychopaths couldn't feel real emotion, but he could clearly see the grief in Hannibal's dark brown eyes.

"I'll have Garcia look up customs and immigration."

————————————————————————————————————————

Taking advantage of his free time, Oliver turned on his computer and found that the comments on Crime Revealing Online had not been answered, but there was a message in his blog private message.

"Your point about the Chesapeake Ripper being an ogre is very interesting. Be sure to tell me more about the case."

Oliver frowned, most of the people who followed his blog were relatives and friends, no one would ask this question.

As for those who know about this problem, apart from the team members just now, only the anonymous commenter on the crime revealing website will see his reply.

How did he find here?

Oliver clicked on the blog page of this man, John Watson, who had the same name as the assistant and cohabitant of Mr. Detective Holmos. Oliver began as a fan of mystery novels, paying homage to classic characters.

But he saw the content of this Mr. John Watson's blog post.

Pink Research...

Oliver silently opened the search engine to find Holmos, and a bunch of webpages popped up in an instant. The reporters who published the news on the website all took pictures of the same outfit, deer hunting hat, black curly hair and dark blue eyes.

Well, it seems that this is not a fan, but the person.

Oliver glanced at the blog posting time by the way.Could it be that there was nothing when he searched for the name Sherlock Holmos a few years ago, because John and Sherlock hadn't met yet.Therefore, there are no reports of this famous detective on these networks and media.

However, judging from the content of this private message, it doesn't seem like a doctor would send it.More like Sherlock.

"Mr. Holmos?"

"Why do you ask?"

"I read Mr. John Watson's blog post. Is his speaking style different from yours? Your speaking style is more... Lively."

"oops, I'm right, then Mr. Detective, tell me about the Chesapeake Ripper."

"Wait. How do you know that I..."

Oliver determined that there was nothing in either his own comment or this blog that would lead to inferences about his work.

This is a habit he developed in the CIA. After all, if he