[Comprehensive] Mrs. Holmes Daily

As long as life goes on, the explosions in London will never stop.

But worse than the explosion, Sherlock's violin hasn't stopped for even a second from last night to today.

Ludwig resisted the urge to kick the door open, opened it calmly, and stood with arms folded at the door of his room on Baker Street:

"Has your brain circuit become circular today? Sir, you have played this rondo back and forth 130 times...and you will always be in this movement. The rondo also needs a theme to echo."

"140."

"...what?"

Sherlock said lightly:

"140 is your upper limit... Whenever the number of times I repeat the movement is close to 140, I can always successfully force you out of the room."

"..."

Ludwig looked up at the goal post:

"Very well, I have been forced out by you now, please stop your messy music, otherwise I don't need you to feed me medicine, because I will directly suffer from a nervous breakdown."

"It's not a mess of music."

Sherlock sat on the sofa, torturing his violin back and forth, with a serious expression like a marble statue:

"It's my newly invented rondo format that helps you get some sort of inspiration out of it."

"...so considerate, sweetheart, I thank you."

"You're welcome."

"..."

Ludwig held on to the door frame, feeling weak:

"Sir, I'm reviewing my homework. I will take the graduation exam tomorrow and the entrance exam the day after tomorrow. The goal is still Cambridge, which you just changed... Either you dissect your brain and replace it with me, or stop your violin."

Sherlock's tune moved up a bit—he changed from C major to G major, repeating that never-weary movement for the third time in the 130th.

"You need inspiration."

He said blankly:

"Desperately needed."

"No, I don't need it. I just want to memorize the book on logic."

"Not logic inspiration, but culinary inspiration...you don't even cook for me now."

His tone is getting brighter and brighter:

"For three whole days...I have ordered takeaway for three whole days."

"..."

Sherlock didn't hear her speak for a long time, and decided to be considerate of her weak perception of music and give her a clearer direction:

"And the inspiration that this melody can provide you is - I want to eat your French crepes and cherry cakes."

"...I can only hear that you are too naive, do you know what brushing the night is?"

Ludwig shook his finger:

"And don't take credit, I ordered the takeaway, you just sat there and waited for me to bring the plate to you, that's all."

She puts a lot of emphasis on "just".

"That's because my mobile phone has an important mission. On average, 320 seven lives in London are saved by it every year. I can't waste its talent on ordering takeaway."

Sherlock finally raised his eyes and glanced at her faintly.

Then he saw that his little girlfriend was only wearing a large white shirt, her legs were bare, her face was stained with ink, and her long hair was disheveled on her head...and a pencil was sticking out of it.

Sherlock: "..."

...This situation was a bit unexpected for him.

Ludwig stepped on the soft carpet with bare feet, took out the coffee she ground last night from the refrigerator, took a big gulp, and poured some into the cup.

Sherlock said lightly:

"...And you don't pay attention to your appearance in front of me now, you will always take care of yourself before you go to see the cafe owner."

Ludwig walked to the bar and filled the cup with some hot water:

"I'll make a correction—not now, I've never paid attention to my appearance in front of you."

Sherlock's eyes followed her walking figure, like a cat catching a ball of yarn:

"You even spent 1 minutes and 32 seconds doing makeup when you went to officiate at his funeral."

Ludwig "snapped" the coffee on the tea table in front of Sherlock:

"If I were to officiate at your funeral, it would take ten minutes and thirty-three seconds to make up."

She poured out two candies from her pencil-marked hand:

"I poured you the coffee, obviously I've already made you something to eat today - so lunch is on your own."

"..."

Sherlock looked at the cup inscrutably - it looked like coffee and it smelled like liquid coffee.

"You let me... drink this?"

Overnight cold coffee...with hot water?

"Don't show this expression, your life is too old-fashioned, black suit, white shirt, black coffee... black and white, always the same."

Ludwig straightened up, opened his hands, and embraced the world:

"Dreams have no end, struggles have no end, and life needs more possibilities."

"...You can't treat me like this, Vichy."

"Of course I can."

Ludwig walked to the door of the room.

The moment the door was closed, he rubbed his foot against the carpet again, then frowned:

"Has the carpet been cleaned for three days?"

She turned her head and said plainly to Sherlock:

"Please remember to take the rugs to the dry cleaner when you go out, and remember to bring the rugs back when you come home..."

She smiled slightly:

"Don't be polite to me, you are not a guest."

"..."

Sherlock looked at the closed door again in disbelief, and the violin in his hand finally stopped.

She was telling him to... clean the carpet?

Oh, has Pluto escaped the Moon's gravitational system today?

but.

Sherlock frowned... She was back in her room again.His little girlfriend has locked herself in her room and read books for three days, eating only bread, water, and coffee.

Based on her emotional out-of-control performance at the funeral, he did not rule out that her current behavior is post-traumatic stress disorder. If it is not resolved for a long time, it will cause more serious chronic precipitation.

and so……

Sherlock glanced at the closed door, and the strings of the violin played a melodious tune.

Maybe he still needs to practice this movement for a while, starting from the 130th fourth time.

Ludwig closed the door, and as expected, Sherlock's "Cherry Cake Rondo" came from behind him.

She picked up a book from the ground, tore off half a page, and stuffed it into her ear.

If she knew what Sherlock was thinking right now, she would definitely smear the little cherry cake on his face—is staying in the room for three days PTSD?Do you know what it means to cram before an exam?

If Sherlock saw that she didn't go downstairs for a month in her previous life and only ate instant noodles and practiced the piano, she would probably be dragged directly to a mental hospital.

The pages were torn out by her all over the floor... In the pre-examination mode, memorize one page and throw one away, so as to ensure that she can memorize each page as quickly as possible.

...But she dared to say that compared to the dire straits before the end of the semester, her current life can be described as neat and orderly.

She stepped on the works of Vladimir, Augustus, and Pushkin, passed by the porch cabinet on one side, did not stop, and plunged into the sea of ​​books again.

The whole room, only there is tidy, and it is so clean that there is not even a speck of dust.

The cabinet was newly bought by her, painted in a Mediterranean style, very beautiful and expensive.

She is rich now, at least out of the proletariat.

There is a small porcelain plate on the cabinet, which is also painted, and there are two rings on it.

One was silver, with a knot inlaid with black stones... the knot was not accurate, it was more like a cartoon little black man with two fingerless arms hanging at his sides.

It was An He's last birthday present to her. There were two boxes, one containing the deed and the other containing the ring.

After being late for so many days, it was finally taken apart by her.

The other one is gray, and the whole ring is in the shape of an orchid, with slender orchids hovering around the slender fingers, and tiny flowers blooming from the top.

That's not An He's gift.

That is Anhe.

……

three days ago.

Before leaving the funeral home, Ludwig found Joe Alice and successfully persuaded Sherlock to wait in the corridor.

They sat in Joe's separate office, dimly lit, on opposite sides of a table.

Ludwig spoke first:

"You said, you can see the dead?"

Joe tilted his head:

"You don't believe that I can really see dead people, why ask?"

...she really didn't believe it.

Just like Sherlock does not believe that she came back from the dead, people need reasonable evidence to believe in something, otherwise it is easy to lose self-judgment and let the "id" or "superego" cover the "ego".

But she asked it on purpose...how could she explain the way she pushed Sherlock away if she didn't ask something strange?

……

Ludwig stood up, took out the pen in the breast pocket of Ms. Qiao's suit, and took out a napkin from the paper drawer on the table.

She had tissues herself, but she dared not use them.If a pack of paper suddenly decreases too much, Sherlock will definitely be suspicious.

There was a special note on the table for writing, but she didn't dare to use it, because writing on ordinary paper would make noise.

She wrote a line of words on the paper, her mouth did not stop:

"A dead horse is treated as a living horse doctor."

She pushed the tissue with the nice words to Joe.

Joe glanced at it, and it read:

——"My daily life may be monitored, and I can only use handwriting. Please communicate with me with pen and paper, and maintain a normal dialogue during the period."

She was being watched, unquestionably watched.

This is the fact she discovered this morning - Sherlock had been drawing graphs and analysis of the entire Greek text on the table all night.

Because of Atum's presence, and preventing her from self-harming when she's "mentally unstable," she knows Sherlock will take the necessary steps to keep her safe.

But what she didn't know was...these surveillance methods are so thorough.

Because he wrote the whole article in Greek, he was not worried about what she would see—she did not understand Greek at all, but this did not prevent her from memorizing the appearance of key words, and then using the Internet to search.

That was her psychoanalytic model.

It was the first time she saw Sherlock write all the analysis results next to the data so carefully, so she could see it clearly.

Tendency to self-harm, aggressive performance, hallucinations... The data of these indicators all come from her daily reactions and conversations.

...... sh.

Joe picked up his pen and said, "I can't see him. This man lost his soul when he died...I don't know where his soul went."

She pushed the tissue over:

- "What do you want to tell me?"

Ludwig said lightly: "Why can't you see him, where did he go?"

it says on the tissue

——"Do you remember, you owe me something?"

In the mortuary, she convinces Mr. Thomas to accept the burning, so Joe promises to do her a favor.

It was just an unintentional act at first, but I didn't expect that one day she would really ask an undertaker for something.

Joe: "I don't know where he went. It's the first time I've seen this kind of situation."

And on the paper it says:

——"Remember, what do you want me to do for you?"

Ludwig took the tissue she handed over and said, "Forget it, I saw that your funeral home has the service of turning ashes into rings, and it seems to be very popular now...you can help me make his ashes into a ring." ?"

What was written on the paper was:

——"I need two identical rings, but it's not convenient for me to pay for two copies. I need you to allow me to pay on credit."

Because if you paid for two copies, Sherlock would definitely find out.

"Yes, and we have a discount right now."

Joe pushed the tissue over, and Ludwig saw it read:

——“Two rings made from one jar of ashes?”

Ludwig: "No need for a discount, it's too rough, I'll draw a good picture for you."

——"No, one jar of ashes, one ring, and any ashes for the other, as long as they are exactly the same."

Joe glanced at her: "It's okay, it's just a little more expensive."

It has been densely written on half of the paper towel:

— “Finally, is what you are going to do illegal?”

Ludwig paused, and said, "Thank you, please include the expenses in the funeral expenses."

While writing on the paper:

——"It's not illegal, it's just in case."

Yes, she just wanted to be safe.

But she'd rather never have to use it "just in case".

Joe put away the paper towel and threw it into the pool beside it. The remaining water in the pool slowly soaked the paper towel, and the black writing on it quickly blurred into one piece.

Two days later she delivered the ring herself, and Jo-Alice was a marvel, because the difference between the two rings was almost indistinguishable to the naked eye.

Even the same batch of goods will be slightly different.

But these two handmade products are exactly the same even in the subtle lines at the corners.

Strikingly similar.

It's not at all like an imitation level that an ordinary funeral home can achieve.

At 05:30 in the evening, Sherlock knocked on Ludwig's door.

Of course, the action of "knocking" was just his formal respect and politeness, and Ludwig was used to it, so she didn't pay any attention to his knocking on the door.

Sure enough, after three knocks, the locked door opened automatically.

The person standing at the door did not speak for a while.

……

There was a mess of paper balls on the ground, the shoes were thrown in the closet, the wastebasket was dumped on the bed, and a dying insect was pressed under the bread - judging by the number of legs, this should be an arthropod among invertebrates.

To be precise, it should belong to the phylum Crustacea and the suborder Ugrozoidae.

... well, that's not the point.

And the coffee mixed with the ink, left drop by drop from the desk.

… Now he knew why she was reading on the ground.

"I know my situation is a little messy...but you have to believe it's normal, I've been through much messier situations than this."

Without looking up, Ludwig quickly drew a line with a pencil on the last line of the page, then tore off the page, crumpled it up and threw it aside.

...now he knew where the balls of paper came from.

"No, chaos is what Mycroft used to describe my lab, where you..."

Sherlock stared at the mouse woman who was still struggling under the bread, as if looking for an adjective.

But searching is clearly futile.

"...You are here, chaos is not enough to describe... Oh, are you trying to break the usual position rules and create a new order?"

He was referring to her behavior of tucking the wastebasket over the bed.

"..."

Ludwig frowned:

"What the hell are you doing here, sir? If you have nothing else to do..."

"Of course there is something."

Sherlock said quickly:

"Although this incident is a bit hard to say... To be honest, I never thought that one day I would behave like this, but you don't have to be too moved by it. According to the statistics of the Q&A in the couple community, this is just based on Normal communication over our relationship..."

Ludwig pressed his temple and interrupted him:

"I'll give you another chance. Please describe exactly what you want to do within three words—otherwise, let me review."

"I just came to call you..."

Sherlock pursed his lips, as if he was really saying something unspeakable:

"……have dinner."

"..."