[Comprehensive] Mrs. Holmes Daily

Paranoia?

The forefoot is still implanted with consciousness, and in the next second, she upgrades again?Will he struggle with evolution when he regards her as a Digimon?

Ludwig stared at the doorknob in his hand.

It was made of silver...not silver plated, but a solid piece of silver, and Sherlock had dissolved the copper handle into copper chloride, and she forced him to replace it with silver, and threatened to give the silver to him if he gave it to him too. Melted, next time she will replace it with gold.

——"The famous horse fell to death because of a horseshoe nail, and the famous Mr. Holmes died of poverty because of a doorknob... Except for the length of your face, even the way of death complements each other so well."

That's what she said to Sherlock at the time - when her nerves were still normal.

……

She watched and couldn't help laughing out loud:

"So, what are you talking about today, paranoia? I just want to borrow some money from you. Why don't you be so stingy... Why don't you say that I have a split personality?"

Sherlock stood up from the sofa and slowly took a few steps towards her:

"You don't have a split personality, you just occasionally do things that you don't know about, it's very slight, it's not a split personality, and the treatment process will be a bit difficult, but if your doctor is me... I have a big problem. grasp."

He stood two steps away from her, stopped, and added:

"Believe me."

……

For a moment, Ludwig wanted to walk away.

She did that too.

But Sherlock was faster than her, and when she opened the door, he had already held her hand on the doorknob, and along the way, Ludwig was surrounded by his arm between him and the door.

Sherlock's fingertips stroked the back of her cold hand reassuringly, and held it.

Not long ago...before she came to him, these movements were just symbols to him.

Now, he knew every specific feeling they could make.

……

Ludwig glanced at their current posture, only to feel... How much blood was spilled on Mr. Plot last night.

Ah, sorry, she forgot, and now the plot master has been completely obliterated by Sherlock... Existence is yet to be determined.

"If you let go now, we can still be friends happily."

... This is of course the result of translation, Ludwig used "her" in his original words.

She said lightly:

"Or... are you going to lock me in Baker Street? If you dare to do this, wait for the broken-hearted party tomorrow."

"Breakdown? Oh, Vichy, it's absolutely impossible for this to happen between us. The probability is as small as if I were having a party."

Sherlock tightened his arms around her:

"It's just that this is the first step in your treatment. Now is the time when your spirit fluctuates the most. If I can't let you accept this reality as soon as possible, you will re-establish a set of explanation logic for self-protection... It will be even more difficult if I want you to accept it." For difficult."

Ludwig nodded:

"So that's why... so you still plan to lock me in Baker Street?"

"I said I would not take away your civil rights."

"Oh, it won't deprive me of my rights... That's why you let my father be arrested and imprisoned for falsifying his student thesis? Just before I want to make a deal with him?"

"It's a fact that he falsified his thesis and embezzled public funds. Donovan has been investigating him for a week, and he will be discovered sooner or later...I just provided Donovan with an idea."

Sherlock said quietly:

"Because I don't care when he goes to jail, all I care about is your... mental state."

"I don't care about paranoia and psychotherapy, because at least no one can die from these...and my relatives are dying in the hospital."

Ludwig raised his head, with thick black eyes, staring directly at the man in front of him:

"Do you know what crime you're committing now? You're wasting my time saving people...it's murder...even if it's not, it doesn't make much difference."

Sherlock looked into her eyes.

In the depths of the calm eye lake, slowly, an invisible undercurrent rose.

"murder?"

After a long time, he said softly:

"Because of a love that you don't know is true or false, you didn't even listen to what I was about to say, and didn't even take a look at the evidence I found, and you have already convicted me... of a crime?"

The wooden door behind her was against her back, hard and painful.

Under Sherlock's gaze, she lowered her eyes and said nothing.

"I understand……"

Sherlock slowly loosened his hands around her waist:

"But even so, therapy requires that you at least hear the part about Serge Gainsbourg -- not out of my wish, but out of my ... partner's obligation."

His tone didn't change at all, but Ludwig clearly felt... His tone became colder.

He let go of her and stood up straight.

"You were separated from your parents and lived alone. From the age of seven to nine, you barely went out for two whole years and locked yourself in the apartment... It is not unusual to show symptoms of separation anxiety disorder."

Ludwig listened in silence...it was true.

She doesn't go out, on the one hand, she stays at home to learn French, on the other hand, it's because...she doesn't want to be in contact with people.

Because there is no need, is there?Maybe when I wake up, these people will disappear again, and there will be dinosaurs running beside me.

……

Sherlock walked towards the sofa:

"But your sad symptoms are slightly different from other cases, and the ultimate expression is social withdrawal...you hang around but never make friends, although you don't seem to be socially impaired."

He sat down on the sofa, elbows on his suit pants, fingers crossed.

...the professional pose is at it again.

"Too much self-talk can lead to split personalities, so I went to Mr. Skull, and you...created a neighbor that didn't exist."

Ludwig smiled:

"Holmes is what he says, isn't he?"

"Of course there is evidence."

Sherlock took out his mobile phone, pulled out a folder, and accurately threw the mobile phone into her arms across the coffee table.

"The first document is the title deed... The opposite door of your apartment in France belongs to an elderly couple who now live in Germany with their daughter. The apartment has been vacant for three years."

He smiled slightly:

"Do you remember? When you bought him a birthday present, I asked you if you had been to his house, and you said no, he came to your apartment all the time... It's not because his father was grumpy, but You can't get in that apartment door at all."

"..."

Ludwig held the phone and didn't look at it.

Sherlock didn't care either:

"Second file skip, third file... a lovely video of you sitting alone in a house of cards cafe, drinking a cup of warm water and a cup of coffee, smiling at a paper daisy for an hour."

"..."

Ludwig stood under the afterimage of the light, his straight figure motionless, like a silent statue.

"The seventh file is your high school enrollment list. I asked you if you heard any comments about Mr. Gainsbourg in school. Your answer is still no, because you don't go to school often...and The real reason, I am afraid, is that there is no one named Serge Gainsbourg on this list."

Ludwig still didn't look at his phone.

She tilted her head halfway, looked at Sherlock, and actually smiled:

"Any more?"

"The number 12 documents from the bottom are the receipts...the receipts for the ingredients sent from France."

Sherlock was leaning on the sofa, in a black suit, with an impeccable face and manner, just like an oil painting.

...a calm to unusual reaction.

Sherlock stared at Ludwig without blinking:

"You may object to me that Gainsbourg's signature on the receipt bears no resemblance to yourself... Indeed, you are much smarter than many people and know how to deceive yourself without showing any signs... You used your left hand Character."

His fingers tapped the edge of the sofa:

"You concealed it very well. I carefully compared your notes with the signature on the receipt a few days ago... The left-handed and right-handed words are quite different, but in some details, it still reveals the characteristics of mirror symmetry."

... No wonder he has been reading her book for the past two days. She noticed it yesterday, but didn't pay attention.

"Oh."

Ludwig nodded, indifferent:

"Any more?"

... This kind of reaction was the last thing he expected.

Sherlock sat up straight, looking into her face:

"You are suppressing your emotions... Vichy, come to me, don't pinch your hands with your nails, you always like to do this, they are not titanium alloys."

"Property title documents can be forged, videos can be processed, handwriting identification is not authoritative evidence, I reject it."

She raised her hand to look at her palm, and sure enough there were two deep nail marks.

"And things are prioritized... Even if I have a mental illness, it doesn't matter right now."

Because someone is in the hospital, dying, even though he doesn't care.

……

"It's not 'even if there is', Vichy, I know it's hard to accept, but you can only proceed to the next step of treatment if you accept it."

There was a soothing magic in his voice that was not at all Sherlock Holmes.

"Drugs may be used ... but you don't have to worry, it's just the slightest dose."

Ludwig interrupted him: "Drugs? Are you a psychiatrist? Are you licensed?"

"Not a month ago."

Sherlock looked into her eyes:

"But now, I'm the best psychologist in the UK."

"..."

A few strands of long hair slipped from the ears, and Ludwig pulled them up:

"So, my good doctor, your patient's application to go out alone now... can it be approved? I can't think of things because you stay in front of me all the time."

Sherlock's tone was undeniable:

"Wait until your mood stabilizes. Besides... If you pinch my phone like this again, even if it is made of titanium alloy, it will be deformed."

"If you want to be my psychiatrist, you'd better learn how to follow me first."

Ludwig was calm, but he didn't back down from what he said:

"Didn't you ask someone to follow me?... Don't look at me like that, I know you have a way to monitor me, otherwise how would you find out where I am in the casino? You even know when I gambled a few times. "

She smiled and threw his mobile phone back to him:

"Of course, if you think I'm paranoid, all these layers of surveillance make sense."

……

The door opened with a "squeak" and closed with a "squeak".

Her movements were not heavy, but the sound she made... seemed to be more deafening than the explosion of Lei Mercury.

……

Sherlock sat on the sofa.

After an unknown amount of time, the painted portrait of Jesus on the fireplace, the eyes of a certain God's residence flickered.

There was a "click", as if some mechanism had been activated, and the lights in the apartment suddenly went dark.

Mycroft's voice came from the fireplace, with an operatic exclamation:

"It's really nostalgic... Sherlock, the last time I saw you in a daze seemed to be 100 years ago."

Only then did Sherlock move, and stood up expressionlessly. In the dark, he walked to the bar and poured himself a cup of coffee:

"Your way of appearing is getting more and more wicked... So, you moved the camera on Baker Street again? I remember that I have already dismantled the last batch."

"This batch is the latest model, imitating the color-changing principle of marine life, and a fully intelligent camouflage system... I no longer have to worry about these small things being exposed as cameras due to changes in indoor light."

Mycroft said cheerfully:

"Instead of paying a lot of money to ask someone to help me test the concealment of the camera, it's better to let you come... This is more valuable than talking about a relationship that is destined to be dumped, isn't it?"

"Dumped?"

Sherlock leaned on the bar, noncommittal:

"You don't have to expect this...it's impossible for us to break up."

"Don't be so sure, my brother."

Mycroft smiled slightly:

"She has found out that you are secretly documenting her life in some way...By the way, I have informed Anthea to prepare champagne for the bachelor party. If you still don't plan to tell her everything you did for her, we can do it tomorrow. Open the bottle."

"..."

"You put recorders and image-tracking devices on her studs just to analyze her behavioral patterns, and you spent 20 days doing nothing but researching her furry treatment plan."

Mycroft tapped his index finger.

Recognized by voice, he changed the desk in his office:

"Thanks to you, as soon as I got back, I saw the East End crime reports piled up on my desk like the Andes."