[Comprehensive] Mrs. Holmes Daily

A small platinum cuff button can hold a man's sleeve, but how long can it hold his love?

...what a trivial question.

The vicissitudes of life last forever, love is too small a grain of grass, not necessarily as important as a piece of bread... When even tuition fees are a problem, who is going to buy gifts for boyfriends?

Ludwig came out of the jewelry store, holding a small velvet box in his hand. A rose was tied obliquely on the box with dark blue satin. Small diamonds were sewn on the edge of the rose. Even the packaging was It was gorgeous, and it contained the most expensive gift she had ever bought in her life.

It was really expensive, so expensive that she could only eat Danish bread for half a year, so expensive that she would vomit blood.

But I feel that only such gems, inlaid in such cuffs, can be called complementing each other.

... As for tuition fees?There must be a way for the car to reach the mountain, let's talk about it.

……

There are dark sycamores planted on both sides of the street, palm-sized green leaves, and white thatch blown down on both sides of the path. You can faintly see rows of white courtyards and neat green lawns in the courtyards.

Pigeons perch on the spire of the cross, with the church in the distance.

Turning a corner, a very chic courtyard appeared in front of you.

The wall is painted in warm colors, and a large cluster of epiphytic orchids is planted at the door, blooming in full bloom, with slender purple petals stretched out, climbing on the white fence.

There are many varieties of orchids in the UK, and there are also special orchid gardens. It is not uncommon for people to grow orchids.

The strange thing is that very few people grow such rare and almost wild orchids, because the petals are not large and the colors are not bright enough.

It's an old-fashioned mood.

Ludwig couldn't help but take another look.

Then I saw that on top of the layers of petals, there were two signs, white ones, one crookedly saying "Vacant house for sale, please contact Mrs. Annecy next door", and attached a series of phone numbers.

The other piece is a very handsome and neat slender font, with the tail of the "h" dragging to the bottom.

It says, Mr. Erich's residence.

……

Ludwig stared blankly at the beautiful fonts for a long time, then turned his eyes and glanced at the doorknob. There was a thin layer of dust on the doorknob. It seemed that no one had entered it for a long time.

A British man who grows wild orchids, the suffix likes to drag his tail.

If you disassemble the strokes of these English letters and put them on Chinese characters...

There was an inexplicable familiarity about him that resurfaced through his London overcoat and gentlemanly demeanor.

If you change the place, change the time...

The same smile, another face.

……

She reached into her pocket for her phone.

For some reason, she clearly held the phone firmly, but the phone slipped from her hand and fell to the ground.

She froze for a moment, and after a while, she remembered that she should pick up the phone.

Slowly reached out and dialed the phone number on the first wooden sign, and an impatient woman answered it. Judging by the voice, she was already very old.

"I saw your house."

Ludwig considered his tone and decided to pretend to be a house buyer:

"It's very beautiful, I'm very interested...but I saw that the owner of the house is named Erich, are you his agent?"

On the other end of the phone, the old woman said indifferently: "I don't answer any questions that have nothing to do with the price."

Ludwig didn't expect to be rejected so thoroughly, he was silent for a while, and then continued:

"Sorry, I just wanted to know about the previous owner... In case he died of disease or murder, there is no need for me to ask the price of the house."

"Then you don't need to ask any more, miss."

The old woman's voice was still flat without any fluctuations.

"I don't know the owner of the house, the young man who suddenly gave it to me one morning...I'm old enough to die so I can smell it."

She said clearly in an indifferent tone:

"The rotten interior, the crumbling texture, that's the breath of the dead... Even if he's still alive, he's about to die."

"..."

The wild orchids all over the wall sway in the breeze, and the slender petals tremble slightly.

The lonely flower stretches lonely, crumbling, but it just doesn't fall.

Ludwig put down the phone in a daze, but this time he held it tightly and did not drop the phone again.

……

Regarding some kind of eternal departure and demise, many corresponding words can be found in the dictionary.

Death, funeral, burial, returning, departing, dying.

Die... What does the word die mean?

Turned into soil, turned into smoke, body and soul separated... If Ai Ruixi is really Duan Anhe, then it will be her little boy, her little brother, who will become something she cannot recognize, and will never come back the meaning of?

But how is this possible?What a lively person he is, such a smile... how is it possible?

……

Ten days ago, he came to say goodbye to her.

Ten days later, someone told her that he was going to die.

……

Erich's coffee shop has also been closed, there is no sign for sale, and everything is as usual.

It's just that the dust, debris, and the mosquito's slender toes on the glass window still reveal a sense of being deserted.

Ten days ago, when he came to bid farewell, an explosion happened in her apartment. She was temporarily staying at Sherlock's house and had never passed by here, so she never knew about it.

Ludwig looked at his own reflection on the glass window. The seat inside was exactly where he sat when he first met Erich, facing 221b Baker Street. The two went to China Street to buy snow lotus cream together.

... diagonally across Baker Street?

She remembered that one morning, because she was out of honey, she went out to buy, and happened to meet Erich coming out from the next door to 221b Baker Street.

... In the early morning, the white roses gathered in the flower basket are covered with dew.

The figure of the man walking out of the thin sunlight is so familiar yet so strange.

Ludwig turned slowly.

In the pocket, the soft velvet and the small box tied with a ribbon, swaying with her footsteps, slowly turned into burning coals, which would burn her fingertips.

But she just clenched the small box tightly and walked across the street without any hesitation.

Hearing that he was Erich's friend, the single landlord readily brought Ludwig to the door of Erich's apartment.

Finally, he whistled knowingly and stuffed a business card into Ludwig's pocket.

"..."

Ludwig silently retracted the idea that "the single Mr. Landlord and the single Mrs. Landlady are very suitable", pushed open the door, and walked in.

Erich's room is plain and elegant, without any extra patterns, unlike her and Sherlock's apartment, which is decorated with big flowers and birds everywhere, Erich's living room only has a simple A desk, a deck chair.

There was an old white desk lamp on the table, a few sheets of white paper under the lamp, and a stack of books next to it.

... nothing else, not even a dining table.

She couldn't imagine that the owner of such a simple apartment owned a beautiful villa full of orchids in another part of London.

The apartment has the same layout as 221b, one living room, two adjoining rooms.The window of the living room faces the street, and the window of the room faces inward, facing a row of oak trees in the park behind, which is lush.

One of the two is locked, and there is a bed in the other, the quilt is neatly folded aside, and the books and notebooks on the bedside table are arranged in a line.

Ai Ruixi is the same as her family, Anhe, who can always tidy up the place where she lives so that no trace of living can be seen at all.

...But this is a grown man's room, okay? Well organized, everything in place, at least not next to a barbecue that should be in the morgue.

Sherlock's quilt?No, he doesn't stack it, if Ludwig doesn't fold it for him, he will just throw it.

She went to the window and put her hands on the window.

The fresh and humid air in the park is mixed with the cold smell of soil. The leaves are too dense for the sunlight to shine. There are only dots of scattered light, like floating gold, falling on the window sill from the gap between the leaves.

Her previous room was also like this.

It's a little cold and humid, but the little bits of sunshine are like stars in the daytime.

She and Duan Anhe's house are two courtyards, and it has become somewhat dilapidated after a long time.The two of them live in a mother-child building built by their ancestors, which is the only place where the two courtyards communicate.

It symbolizes the friendship between the two families built with pen and paper in the flames of war.

It all happened in the late Qing Dynasty. During the Guangxu period, when the bus wrote a letter, all hard-core literati who wrote were arrested and sent to the execution ground, including the grandfather of the Li family.

At the time of life and death, apart from the famous Tan Sitong, there was Duan Anhe's grandfather who could leave but did not leave, and would never leave and was willing to die with his friends.

They were classmates when they were young, and they were close friends who carried each other until their death.

In the era of war, how many such nameless people did earth-shattering things, but some were remembered and some were forgotten.

……

The wooden latticed windows are crowded together, and once opened, they will collide with the windows of Duan Anhe next door.

At that time, on the old-fashioned doors and windows with buckled locks, and on the ebony window lattices, she wrote an old poem with a black pen.

There is Chunshan at the end of Pingwu, and the pedestrians are even outside Chunshan.

At the end of the endless grassland, the spring hills rise and fall, overlap and stretch, and the person I miss is close at hand, but seems to be outside the green hills.

...Thinking about it now, how much time she wasted at that time, never willing to say it out loud, reserved, hypocritical and awkward, procrastinating again and again, until the two places were separated, and she didn't know whether she was dead or alive.

The bedrooms of the two are adjacent to each other. Every morning, when Li Weixi opens the window, and the window hits the window next door, she will think, will An He open the window today?Could it be that I just turned my head and saw this poem?

The brushstrokes are still immature, and she has practiced her facial features since she was a child.

Unfortunately, that long swipe is an imitation of Duan Anhe's brushwork, dragged to the end.

……

She turned her head slightly and looked at her room on Baker Street next door.

The shadows of leaves and branches, like the paintings reflected on the window frame, sway with the wind.

A thin and lonely branch, like ink and wash, just covers a line of clear and meaningful writing on the window frame.

She opened her eyes.

Even though she was just standing there calmly, she felt that there was a layer of icy snow in the chest, and her heart was hidden by the snow, and she even forgot to beat.

... Even the lungs seemed to be frozen, making it hard to breathe.

That sentence, mottled and mottled, has been washed away by the rain and blurred.

There are only a few words left, which can be vaguely seen that they were carefully written in black ink on the light-colored wooden window frame.

She was so familiar with the handwriting that she could not be more familiar with it. When she was a child, she copied Duan Anhe's handwriting, and he knew every stroke by heart.

Even if there are only a few words left in a poem that she is so familiar with, she can easily piece it together.

At the beginning, she repeated and translated the poem into Morse code word by word, knocking on the wall, and knocking on the wall for the little boy who lived next door to her, with a slightly bookish look.

——"I want to live with you, in a small town, where there are endless dusks and endless bells."

221b Baker Street.

Lestrade and Sherlock sat in the living room where there was no sign of an explosion.

221b Baker Street has been restored exactly as it was before the explosion, even including the wallpaper that Ludwig had just put on before the explosion, with large, mournful flowers spreading across the walls.

It's very abstract in Japanese Ukiyo-e... But to be honest, this kind of haunted house-like arrangement doesn't quite fit Sherlock's aesthetics.

But before he could protest, his little girlfriend had already put up all the wallpaper in the living room by herself without a word, without him even helping her up a ladder.

Lestrade was taking a sip of cold tea when he suddenly caught a glimpse of the blood on the rim of the cup and put it down calmly:

"I'm starting to miss when Ludwig was here, at least there were clean glasses every time I came."

He looked at the slender man opposite who was meticulously looking at the evidence with a magnifying glass:

"Sherlock, since your room has been repaired, why don't you move back?"