[Comprehensive] Mrs. Holmes Daily

Mycroft said softly, without a trace of displeasure:

"If it was just the Rocky Mountains, I'd be fine with it, but you made them mountains...Thank you for bringing me back to staying up late at work. I haven't doubled my coffee since I was nine years old."

"Oh, Mycroft, you have nothing to complain about."

Sherlock said sarcastically:

"This is the job you took on—do your best to gain the queen's appreciation."

"My Majesty and I appreciate each other...this is the premise of perfect cooperation."

Mycroft spoke softly:

"It's foolish to do good deeds without names, Sherlock."

"Telling the truth can only reap gratitude...Her gratitude is meaningless to me, because what I am after is the final healing effect."

In the dark, Sherlock held a coffee cup:

"I need absolutely accurate data to build a realistic mathematical model... If I tell her that I am studying her reaction to different situations in different ways every day, and then testing her various psychological indicators, she will go to the door. None."

"At least tell her that the reason why you didn't lend her money is that she didn't have time to fly to Egypt to find the truth. The doctor has predicted that Erich Percival's death time will be around half an hour at seven o'clock tomorrow morning—— Her plane was still over the Libyan seaport at that time."

"This is the difference between waiting for hanging and accidental suffocation...the same is suffocation, but the former is more impressive. Unprepared will dilute the guilt and memory of the event. The wait for the known result is always long."

His tone was indifferent:

"I wouldn't do such a stupid thing...why should I deepen her impression of that man?"

"With all due respect, what you're doing is not very smart."

Mycroft raised an eyebrow:

"You're creating conflict, misunderstanding, and resentment... Gratitude is always better than resentment."

"gratitude?"

Sherlock's tone was disdainful:

"I said...boring."

"This is not a boring question... I asked Science Magazine to re-count the origin of love, and the data shows that 30.00% of love is related to 'grateful'-care, praise, and helping people when they are needed."

"Indeed, if domestic robots are disguised as men or women, a large number of people will fall in love with them because they are the most caring, thoughtful and meticulous."

Sherlock shook the coffee cup and said with a touch of sarcasm:

"This kind of cheap admiration is only out of the need for the comfort of life. Even if I have it, I will reject it... Just like coffee grounds have the taste of coffee, but you can never use coffee grounds to make coffee."

"Don't make it sound like you're an expert on relationships, Sherlock."

"Compared to you, I am indeed an expert."

"Experts don't mess around with jealousy like a child."

There was a soft thump from the tiny wireless device, and the china cup touched the holder.

It looked like Mycroft was drinking coffee on the other end of the line, too.

"You have been preparing for so long, carefully laying the groundwork, without revealing any clues, but you chose to tell the truth when she was most resistant to you...It's not your style to be so rude."

"Envy? Oh, that's a worthless emotion."

Sherlock took a sip of his coffee and said expressionlessly:

"I'm just prescribing the right medicine. With Ludwig-Ludwig, digging with a spoon won't work, she needs a chopping ax... because she just needs to catch a little bit of your hole, and she can fill her logic completely again .”

"You're talking hard."

"I do not have."

"You have."

Sherlock snorted:

"Funny argument."

"It's really funny... Sherlock Holmes is sometimes overwhelmed by jealousy."

Mycroft's satin-like voice came from the silent darkness:

"Erich Percival is a fictional conspiracy, your little girlfriend's unforgettable first love does not exist in this world... You have never been so eager to prove something, even at the cost of hurting her, and put everything Tell the truth once and for all."

He tapped the table again:

"Let's see what your little girlfriend is going through right now... Self-doubt, lies about your life experience, your stalking, neurosis, betrayal and death of relatives... And you let her watch helplessly, can you You can't save her... Oh, are you really not afraid of her collapse?"

In the darkness, no one made a sound for a long time.

Only the electric current passed through the communicator, making a buzzing sound, which was particularly abrupt in the silence.

……

"She won't."

After a long time, Sherlock said softly:

"She won't... I built a model to measure her tolerance, and all of this is still within her tolerance."

……

The windows of the apartment were left open, and the heavy silk curtains, like a thin piece of paper, were shaken by the wind.

This is the sea breeze blowing from Spain, across half of the British landmass.

……

After he said that, there was a moment of silence from Mycroft:

"I don't think I need to remind you that the accuracy of the data model is rarely higher than 30.00%. You are losing your mind, Sherlock...you are disturbed."

Sherlock glanced at the camera coldly:

"Don't speculate on me, your psychology score has lowered the average weighting of the Holmes family... Things are still under my control, and I have no reason to be uneasy."

……

The other side of London.

Mycroft sat behind the large desk and clasped his hands:

"Why use psychological methods for obvious facts...you are disturbed."

"I said no."

"You even blurted out 'don't force me to use drugs' because she told you she believed in that man - absolutely, absolutely."

"Absurd speculation."

Sherlock paused, his tone indifferent:

"I didn't know you were so idle. Has your Andes been leveled?"

Mycroft ignored his interruption, but went on slowly:

"Miss Ludwig's emphasis on that man makes you feel threatened like never before. You want to drive that man out of her mind so much... so that you have acted too aggressively recently."

Mycroft slowed down his tone:

"Of course, I can understand this feeling. The oil transportation agreement signed between the United States and the Middle East also made me feel threatened like never before... The Middle East is a good girl, especially with a rich dowry. I have to give up her and choose the Kremlin instead. Very sorry."

Sherlock twitched the corner of his mouth:

"What do you want me to do again?"

"Have you seen it?"

Mycroft smiled regretfully:

"Anthea has sent the power of attorney to your mailbox... In return, I can describe your girlfriend's current situation to you."

Sherlock walked to the pool.

Out of some kind of mood, he decided to clean the coffee cup by himself today:

"No need... In order to find the traces of Yatum, St. Mary's Hospital has my cameras in eight directions."

"It was dismantled by me."

"..."

Mycroft picked up the remote control and pressed a button, activated the GPS, and switched the screen to the entrance of St. Mary's Hospital:

"I found it... Your little girlfriend is sitting on the steps outside the hospital on the phone, let me see who she is calling..."

Sherlock calmly turned on the tap:

"No... the person she is looking for now must be the French neighbor."

"It's indeed a French number...but what I don't understand is why it so happens that this number is an empty number? You know, if someone answers the phone, and the voice of this person is not the one she imagined, her fictional world will not be true." It breaks itself."

"It was her father's old number, which was out of use 12 years ago, but she saw it once when she was a child."

Sherlock has already done a detailed investigation on these details:

"Almost all the information you have read is stored in your brain, but you think you have forgotten it. These details occasionally appear in fragments, which is why strange pictures appear in your dreams... In her construction of Sergey Gainsbourg The brain borrows that impression when it is

"……you?"

"Because my brain doesn't forget things...unless I delete them."

"Please exclude me from that group of goldfish. At your age, my memory is no worse than yours."

Mycroft didn't care about Sherlock's tone, and just said leisurely:

"It's past eleven o'clock in the evening now, she has no money on her, and she missed the last flight, and she doesn't seem to plan to come back to you... You really don't need to go over there to comfort her? She seems to be in a bad state of mind . . . and now she has buried her head in her hands."

Sherlock stopped washing the cup.

The water splashed down on his hands, wet the cuffs of his shirt, leaving a dark stain.

He didn't seem to feel it:

"……she cried?"

"Not yet. I have always admired her control and grasp of her emotions, but I think she will suffer from illness one day—especially, you have long-term plans to develop with her."

"..."

Sherlock didn't make a sound for a while. He slowly washed the cup and put it in the cupboard.

Next to the neatly stacked saucers, there is a tea coaster that has not been destroyed by the bomb.

It was originally a pair, and it could be seen that she cherished it very much... It's just that he punched a hole in one of them with a bullet.

That was the first time she was really angry with him, but not for long.

……

He stared at the pad:

"What is she doing now?"

"She's on the phone again...By the way, her eyes are red."

Mycroft said cheerfully:

"That's right, the only friend suddenly disappeared, the familiar world collapsed in an instant, the former love is going to die tomorrow morning, and now the boyfriend is wearing a shirt worth [-] pounds, but he refuses to lend her the money for two air tickets... Sherlock , I can't wait to attend your breakup party."

"..."

Sherlock took out his phone.

After two seconds:

"You'd better prepare your diplomatic rhetoric, Mycroft... The U.S. government has discovered that you are the one who put a half-naked photo of the president on the homepage of their intelligence agency's internal website, changed the encryption method of the website to open, and posted it on r. .”

Mycroft paid no attention:

"That's impossible, because Anthea did it. The sudden change of mind in the Middle East doubled her workload. She needs a way to vent her anger."

"Now you did it."

Sherlock put the phone back in his pocket lightly:

"Because I also put your semi-nude photo on the front page of their website, next to the president—the one when you were learning to swim."

"..."

☆, the third goodbye

At six o'clock in the morning, Ludwig bought breakfast and waited downstairs in the hospital, guessing that An He would wake up, before walking up.

When the door was opened, An He was sitting by the window, a wooden armchair.

Pigeons were kept in the small garden of the hospital, and they had left their nests in twos and threes, standing on the opposite window sill, stretching their gray wings.

He looked out the window, his eyes focused.

Hands folded casually, folded on the knees, it is rare that there is no book in the hand... Quietly like a painting.

Ludwig watched silently for a while, collected his emotions, hid the things he bought behind him, walked over lightly, and stretched out his hand suddenly.

But before touching his shoulder, I heard him say lightly:

"I knew you were here when you first came up to this floor."

"..."

Ludwig withdrew his hand boredly:

"Can't you just pretend you don't know? It's no fun to find out every time."

"Every time you are discovered, do you enjoy yourself?"

An He turned her head, she was originally smiling, but when she saw her, she frowned:

"Why is your complexion so bad?"

...Your complexion is also very bad.

Not only bad, but also exhausted like a sleepless night.

But she didn't say this, she just shrugged indifferently:

"Brush the night...you understand the life of candidates."

He also didn't mention that he made a phone call downstairs all night:

"I bought you something nice... Guess?"

An He glanced at her hands behind her back: "...Vichy, it's boring."

Ludwig's expression turned cold: "Guess?"

"...You have given me the same things every time since you were a child, and you expect me not to be able to guess?"

An He slowly put his body weight on the chair, and gripped the armrest tightly.

But showing a headache:

"Where did you find the instant noodles again this time? From Singapore or Xin Lamen?"

"Wrong, wrong, this time it's made in China. I guess you haven't eaten Master Kong for a long time. You bought it specially. I'll eat it for you... At least it's addicting to your eyes."

"Vichy...I don't like fried food."

Ludwig waved his hand:

"I don't believe it. Do you know where I found it? I made a special trip to Chinatown in the morning...do you know how I got there? I told the driver..."

Duan Anhe interrupted her lightly:

"Speak the key."

"..."

Ludwig was stunned for a while, and said in disbelief:

"You actually dislike me for being long-winded?"

An He looked at the clock lightly - six eleven.

He propped his chin on one hand:

"...It was very long-winded."

"Nonsense, I'm obviously going in a high-cold style... There's nothing better than being long-winded, who can compare to you, apologies, and the meaning of this earring, it's moji to death."

……

Duan Anhe raised the corner of his mouth slightly.

As soon as the corners of his lips curled up like this, Ludwig reflexively remembered his expression when he said "I just smooth the fur of the neighbor's puppy".

Sure enough, he smiled slowly:

"Because at that time, I thought you liked this style."

The expression on Ludwig's face was like seeing half a fly on the bread she just ate:

"Since when have I been so bored?"

Duan Anhe picked up the water glass on the side and took a sip slowly.

After washing away the British demeanor and tone, he became the boy in the ink painting again, clean and bland.

Just like under the black eaves, beside the dripping rain, a plum blossom bone protruding obliquely.

His slender fingers lightly touched the water glass, his posture was as beautiful as when he was holding a pen:

"It's fine to write the poem on the window frame, but you have to split a poem into three paragraphs and write it in three windows... It's okay to write three windows, not just windows on the first floor... I searched for a whole building to get it Gather your poems"

Ludwig took the water glass and almost spilled the water directly on the bed when he heard his words.

He continued as if he didn't see it:

"I didn't sleep in the middle of the night, knocking on the wall, knocking on the east side for a while, knocking on the west side for a while, without any rules..."

He smiled:

"I thought it was a cat scratching the wall at first...it took me three listens before I realized it was Morse code."

Ludwig sat on the edge of the bed, listening quietly, turning his head to look at the dimmed daylight outside.

The climate in London is changeable, and there were signs of the sun just now, but now it is going to be windy.

—So he knew it.

I can't tell what it feels like... It's like in a dream, provoking a long sigh.

Twisted, tangled, tangled... endlessly vomited.

But if you have sighed, you have sighed... If you don’t come back, you won’t come back.

……

On the bedside table, in the glass vase, there is still a bouquet of lilies, the petals are not fresh, a little yellow.

But since he didn't throw it away, she didn't touch it either.

"There is one point I want to refute."

Duan Anhe looked at her with a slight smile, but didn't speak.

Ludwig blinked:

"It's not that I knocked indiscriminately. I knocked east and west. It's obviously a code...Your IQ is very urgent, Duan."

Duan Anhe was leaning on the back of the chair... At first, he was still supporting his chin, but now he is supporting his forehead.

He looked at the clock again, lowered his eyes:

"I didn't realize it until I came here, isn't it, 'the sun in the east and the rain in the west'?"

He didn't say the last sentence.

Ludwig took out a box of washed grapes from the recycled paper bag she brought, opened the box, and habitually picked out the ones with ugly shapes and colors.

"Your reflex arc is long enough...to paraphrase Mr. Holmes, 'long enough to strangle the earth'."

An He rubbed the phalanx of his left hand with his right hand, and spoke slowly:

"At the age of 15, you can still steal lime and sand from other people's houses, and paste the stairs in your own house... Actually, I have a little sympathy for your current boyfriend. His life must be wonderful."

"I don't need me, his life is already wonderful...Every day of the great detective Sherlock Holmes is like "Resident Evil", criminals from all over the world are pouring into London like chicken blood."

Ludwig looked up at the ceiling:

"Don't sympathize with him...you can sympathize with me. He's killing me recently."

"is it?"

The hospital clock is not a silent ticking clock.

— 22:[-].

He was still in that one-handed support position.

Ludwig frowned:

"Why do you look like you are about to fall asleep...didn't sleep well last night?"

He smiled: "I didn't sleep well, I'm a little sleepy...can you help me to bed?"

"..."

She was picking grapes with a toothpick, but when she heard his ordinary words, she paused slightly, and another grape rolled into the box.

……help?

He already... needs help?

She had only seen him yesterday, and she knew he was going to die.

But knowing he was sick and seeing him sick were always two completely different things.

……

She put down the toothpick slowly and stood up:

"...The service fee is very high, are you sure?"

An He smiled: "No discount?"

She supported him... The distance from the chair to the edge of the bed was only two steps, and he didn't put the weight on her hands, but just used her to maintain his balance.

But that little weight is like a thousand weights, and the arm will be crushed.

……

She put his pillow away, without any room for negotiation: "No beating."

"Then credit it."

He looked out the window, seemed to be stunned for a while, and then slowly said:

"Vichy, tell me, why do trees lose their leaves in early summer?"

Ludwig followed his gaze.

There is only a thin light that is disappearing, no trees... nothing there.

"Probably... want to return to the roots?"

She couldn't figure out what he meant, so she joked:

"The leaves went to find the roots, and the branches just got split ... it was probably the largest seasonal split in the world."

"..."

Before she said anything, An He had already collapsed on the white sheet with laughter.

Ludwig touched his nose: "Student Duan, your smile is getting lower and lower, you are not reserved at all..."

"What are you going to do with restraint?"

He stopped laughing, leaned against the snow-white quilt, and said suddenly:

"Did you see the birthday present I gave you?"

"I haven't come in time to take it apart... I will take it apart when I get back. I agreed in advance that what you gave is a straw bracelet or something. It's best to replace it with an expensive one before I take it apart."

An He smiled, her eyelashes drooped, and she couldn't see her expression clearly:

"You don't have to worry about that...it's almost the most precious thing in the world."

"...When you gave me the straw bracelet, you said it was the most precious thing in the world."

"..."

He directly omitted this sentence:

"In short, you have to keep it well... It is best to burn incense three times a day to show respect."

"..."

With a "click", it means that the hour hand has passed halfway.

...06:30.

An He looked up:

"Do you remember? When I was young, my grandfather said that I would marry you off... He was afraid that you would wear all black when you got married, and asked me to watch you, but I guess I would break my promise..."

He hooked the corner of his mouth, but he couldn't see any regret:

"Because I can't see it anymore."

Ludwig originally wanted to pick up the grapes, but he stretched his hand halfway, and suddenly forgot what he was going to do.

She had no choice but to turn around and pour a glass of water, as if she was extremely thirsty, she drank it all in one gulp:

"He sees me doing nonsense... Didn't he say before that he wants you to die for him? He completely ignored the existence of my eldest daughter... Eat grapes?"

She handed the grapes to him, and he reached out and took one, slowly putting it into his mouth:

"No matter what, I've raised you for so long...I've grown fat, but I haven't seen it sold. It's always a pity."

Ludwig poured himself another glass of water.

She turned her back to him, covering the expression on her face:

"...You are enough, don't talk about raising pigs."

He smiled softly:

"I bought you a wedding dress at the photo studio next to Baker Street. It will be my wedding gift for you in the future... Do you want to try it?"

"..."

Try something, she was choked to death, okay?

And St. Mary's Hospital is too far from Baker Street... It takes three to 10 minutes to take a taxi back and forth.

"Do you have a lot of money? If you have a lot of money, how about buying me a plane ticket... Hey, buy me a plane ticket. I'm short on money to travel around the world."

An He ignored her, just lay down a little sleepy, and repeated:

"Do you want to wear it?"

"No."

He smiled: "Very expensive."

"..."

"Do you want to wear it?"

"……Put on."

She looked desperate:

"Just wear it... how much money do you have? If it's much more than medical expenses..."

An He looked at her as if he wanted to imprint her figure in his eyes.

He said slowly:

"I'll tell you when you wear the skirt."

She looked at the clock...it was six thirty-five.

"Then wait for me, I'll be back at seven twenty."

His eyelashes drooped, his eyes were half-closed, and he looked extremely sleepy:

"I'm just going to sleep...just wake me up when you come back."

"Ah."

She stretched out her hand to tuck his quilt and said softly:

"I'll wake you up when I get back."

……

As she turned around, An He opened her eyes.

He looked at her back, watched her do the most common movements lightly - squatting down, straightening his shoes, standing up, closing the curtains... poured him another glass of water, Put it on the bedside where his hands can reach... Her slender fingers brushed over the lilies that were about to wither.

She still likes to wear shirts, and likes all green and colorful things. She still has obsessive-compulsive disorder, and she must pick out all round things one by one.

She is still so thin... From childhood to adulthood, no matter how much he raised her, she couldn't get fat.

This is his life and dream... This is his little girl.

His Vichy... Li Weixi.

……

Li Weixi walked out of the room lightly.

An He seemed to be asleep, lying on the bed with her eyes closed, her long black eyelashes hanging down, quietly.

The white curtains of the hospital undulate thinly, so thin that there is no sound at all.

She took one last look at An He.

Then, slowly, the door was closed.