The plasma on the ground had already solidified, and a white corpse stood out.

Even under the dim light, one could still see that the dead woman had mesmerizing snow-white skin, a head of blonde hair with no streaks, slender limbs, full breasts, and an exquisite face that rivaled those of the street girls in the lower city.

However, it was such a beautiful body that had been completely sliced open from the chest down, with a huge crack extending all the way to the small of her back, the skin and flesh torn open to reveal the empty blood cavity inside, and the limbs covered with shockingly large wounds.

Sherlock just watched.......

They do not come closer to watch, nor do they say a word.

Full20 seconds have passed ......

Deacon Bardell's high frontal bone wrinkled slightly, a side of the sheriff even thought, this guy can't be scared silly by the bloody scene.

Just then, Sherlock finally made a move, he was very unqualified, and threw the cigarette he finished smoking into the gap between the knees of the steam armor beside him, "Where are the clothes?"He asked without a clue."What...... What?".

"The dead man's clothes."Sherlock looked around again, "I don't see the dead man's clothes."

The sheriff hesitated slightly.

"The crime scene hasn't been touched by anyone, there were no clothes to begin with, they should have been taken by the murderer......"Catherine didn't know as she walked over, she replied while looking expressionlessly at Sherlock for a moment, "The duty of these magistrates is only to protect the crime scene, they don't know about the details of the murder, so if there's anything you want to know, you can come and ask me."

Sherlock showed a rare bit of gentlemanly behavior, "Thank you, beautiful lady."

"There's no need to thank me, I don't like you as a person, I just want you to find the murderer quickly," she didn't hide the coldness in her tone, "Let's hope your skills, won't be as low as your quality......".

Perhaps the class difference was too great, Catherine did not hide her dislike for the detective in front of her, but again, because the class difference was too great, she did not embarrass the other party with her dislike.

This civilian was not qualified to be embarrassed by a judgmental nun.

So she just scornfully, but also incomparably seriously, will get all the clues as much as possible to inform the other party.

As for Sherlock, of course he does not resist, he is not stupid, and even less so like the magistrate behind him, who expects some kind of intersection of classes.

He knows what he should do, but also clear that he came here, in fact, just want to try this case about the Holy See, can not bring himself some novelty.......

Of course, since the Church had chosen him, he had to come whether he wanted to or not.

Anyway, he listened very calmly to what Catherine said.

One was talking, the other was listening.

Just like that, this pair of men and women with a huge difference in status showed a strange tacit understanding at that moment.

After a few minutes......

Sherlock finally frowned a little awkwardly, "You guys......basically didn't find out anything."

Catherine remained expressionless, "As I told you before, the fewer people who know about this matter, the better.And if we were going to call that group of people from the court, why would we need to go to you, a private investigator, to deal with this matter?"

"Makes sense." Sherlock was not depressed at all, instead he let out a very bright smile, and immediately afterwards he went into the alley alone.

Catherine and Deacon Bardell exchanged a glance and followed slowly; as for the little old priest-sama, he had been standing still like a statue since he got off the carriage, and when he came closer he could even hear faint snoring.In the alley, the silhouettes of several people split the light from the gas lamp into fragmented patches.

Sherlock stepped over the muddy blood stains and leaned down, casually picking up a piece of ground meat and looking at it in the dim light:

"A piece of chopped liver, such brittle tissue can be cut so neatly, the killer's craftsmanship is quite good."

His words were not addressed to anyone, but a habitual self-talk.

"A piece of sternum shank, with two ribs attached, and an equally neat cut."He picked up another piece of bone and said, "This kind of dissection and division of the body should not be done in a short period of time, and judging by the degree of blood coagulation, the time of death was around5:00 am this morning ......That said, why is the killer suddenly so obsessed with the number [four]?""Four?"Catherine said, slightly puzzled.

"Yes. This guy cut almost everything he could into four pieces."As he spoke, he picked up a few more pieces of ground meat and skillfully pieced together an entire lung lobe before placing it into the open chest cavity of the corpse.

"What are you doing?"Deacon Badr, who had been silent the entire time, finally spoke, his voice was not loud and there was no disgust to be heard, but the scarlet bullet just eerily exuded a great sense of oppression.

Most of the Deacons of the Judicial Department were indentured servants, and those who had reached the second level, only those who possessed great power were capable of these cruel and dangerous tasks.

However, Sherlock did not panic at this feeling of oppression, and the movements of his hands did not stop at all:

"I'm sorry, Mr. Bader.I know this is a bit disrespectful to your wife, but the killer supposedly left us some clues......Look here ......".

He spoke very quickly, pointing to a section of freshly coiled intestines, "A very shallow wound, running up and down......The murderer, after cutting open his chest and abdomen, did not rush to cut it up, but made some marks on the intestines with his knife."

In just a few words, Sherlock had already pieced together the floor full of chopped up entrails.

The sheriff stood at the mouth of the alley and watched from a distance, wanting to say something several times.

He had a very unpleasant thought in his heart: an ordinary person, even a doctor, couldn't possibly be so skilled at reassembling chopped up internal organs.

Could it be that this civilian detective in the lower city had cut up entrails so many times that practice made perfect?

"There you go......"Two minutes later, Sherlock had all the rest in place as well.......

And among the fragmented and disjointed entrails, a knife mark was literally faintly visible.

"Yes?"

Deacon Bardell's sight was clearly otherworldly, and in such dim light, it was extremely quick to recognize the marks between the joined organs.

A bloody word, scratched out with a sharp blade, between the internal organs -YES.