So, a normal detective who was not deified appeared, like an old old friend, his eyes were no longer ruthless and arrogant, and the communication with the little boy was two years old, tacitly. Making faces, trotting all the way to the beach like an old child, raising his hands and feet, opening and closing his eyes, he was so warm and amiable.
His slow actions did not weaken his sharp thinking and careful logic. The warm, more intimate Sherlock Holmes appeared.
The rock formation at the end finally calmed me down, and I finally didn't see this lovely old man fall, and finally didn't see him slumped.
The strength and tenacity of the child has quietly melted me.
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