Sherlock Holmes

Hudson used all his strength to finally say these words.

Even when she said this, she was still thinking about every detail of Sherlock living here, the dinners we had together, the cat food we fed together, the house she cleaned for him, and seeing him when she woke up. The security of standing next to the bed.

But now, the little three-flowered flower is gone.

Sherlock is leaving too.

It seems that my life will leave me forever after this heavy snow.

So she could only act extremely tough, forcefully opened her door, and strode into the house. She didn't want to explain more, let alone say another word to Sherlock.

This is all she can do.

As the door was slammed shut, Mrs. Hudson suddenly felt discouraged. She leaned against the door weakly and allowed her body to slide down.

"I am a saint."

She murmured, originally this was something that would make anyone ecstatic, but when it came out of her mouth, there was a hint of trembling.

Joan of Arc Letitia Hudson! Must be a saint!

Because if she is a saint, then her unconscious father will wake up again, and people from the Vatican will come forward to contact Lord Nightingale and ask her to cure his father's disease.

If he were a saint, then a priest would go to the battlefield in front of the gate of hell to bring his brother back. He would not have to live in fear that he might suddenly die in battle.

The nun in white told herself this personally.

In fact, these things are really easy for the Holy See, and all she has to do is to stop interacting with anyone of the opposite sex from this moment on. She just needs to wait quietly for the arrival of her birthday, and then join hands with His Highness the Holy Son. Just move towards a new life.

What else could she do?

All the above things, Shylock was unable to do anything. His prayers could not be heard by Lord Nightingale, because thousands of patients were praying, but there was only one Lord Nightingale. She was not a god and could not really Treat everyone; Sherlock couldn't rush to the shores of Redeker Strait, point his finger at an officer's nose, and tell him to send his brother home.

Mrs. Hudson is a kind and simple person, but she has learned to see the reality clearly. In this world, having rights means having special treatment that is different from ordinary people, and romance is just a luxury hope.

"I am a saint! And he is just a tenant who has been with me for a while! I am above the rest, and he is just a detective in the lower city! I will never have any interactions with him in the future!"

She kept telling herself this, as if to make herself more like a person who was dazzled by power.

"Even if he saved me, there will be ten thousand ways to repay him after I become a saint!"

she thought so

It seems that everything is as foreseen by the all-knowing and all-powerful Holy Light. The Saint will eventually become a Saint.

At this moment, just outside the door a few centimeters away, the streetlight on the street corner flickered a few times. Sherlock stood in the heavy snow, thinking in his mind:

"Just kicked out?

But that sofa is mine too."

A few hours later.

"So, you're just homeless?"

In a high-end apartment, Watson poured Sherlock a cup of hot coffee, and then looked at him with interest. Although he kept using that squinting smile to hide his true emotions, Sherlock knew that this The guy must be gloating!

"Yes, it was quite sudden, but I didn't reveal any attributes that shouldn't be exposed. In her eyes, I am still the detective who is law-abiding and helpful. And she was thinking of me rescuing her a few days ago. As a matter of love, you kicked me out today, which is wrong no matter how you think about it."

"Don't you want to find out the reason? This should be easy for you."

"Maybe she will check it out, but maybe she won't. She must have her own reasons. If she casually exposes other people's scars, it might not solve the problem and cause her more trouble. In that case, I will There’s no way I can live back here.”

"You are such a considerate tenant." Watson's words became more gloating: "So, what are you going to do? Stay in a hotel?"

As soon as he said this, Sherlock felt his head hurt:

"The hotel is definitely out of business. The men and women these days are like taking aphrodisiacs. There are people queuing up outside the hotel. I went to several hotels, and the most conscientious one agreed to let me stay for three hours, because I have to give it to the rest of the time. I even met two couples who couldn’t wait to make room for each other, discussing in the corner about sharing a room.”

"Share a room?"

"Yes, I guess it's just a bed divided into left and right sides. You use your half and I use mine. Anyway, if I have somewhere else to go, I won't come to your place."

Listening to Sherlock's words, Watson seemed to truly understand his situation:

"Then I don't have any extra room for you at home. If you insist, you can only sleep in the renovated room. But there are two toys in there. Their vitality is indeed very strong. How about you stay with them? live?."

"Then I'd rather sleep on the street." Sherlock said weakly.

Suddenly, I thought that I still had a place to go.

Although he is a bit unethical, there is only one other person visiting that place besides himself, so if he can talk it through to the other party, it doesn't seem impossible.

Even if the other party doesn't agree, it's still a good idea to leave the luggage there.

So Sherlock immediately said goodbye to Watson, went to the street and called a carriage.

Then, facing the wind and snow, we headed towards the British Museum.

Because of the bad weather, when Sherlock came to the British Library, it was almost early in the morning, the darkest time of the day.

He was carrying a heavy box, like a foreigner who had been beaten hard by life.

The library has long been closed, but fortunately Sherlock has countless ways to open the door to this building.

So he walked unimpeded all the way to the remote corridor that he passed every day, and then walked to the door in a familiar way.

At this moment, he suddenly hesitated, thinking that the guy wouldn't be inside now.

So he knocked on the door.

"This feels really weird." Sherlock muttered. Seeing no response, he knocked several times again. It wasn't until he felt that there was no one inside that he finally carefully opened a small crack in the void at the door, and then quickly let a tentacle pull the door bolt open.

subsequently

He opened the door