[Comprehensive] Mrs. Holmes Daily

"The devil's three golden hairs?"

Sherlock frowned:

"The blond devil appeared in Belial in Judaism legends in Palestine. It held all the devils, the dead, and the valley of fire in Judaism. Ashma in Iranian mythology, although there is no specific document to indicate its hair color, but in It's blonde in one of the drawings. Then there's Hindu mythology..."

"..."

Ludwig interrupted him expressionlessly:

"You think too much."

Sherlock: "..."

""The Devil with Three Blonde Hair" is an extremely esoteric and difficult story, which is much more high-end than the religious figures you mentioned... And Belial's hair is black, thank you."

Belial, the demon of Palestine, has another identity in Christianity, that is, Satan, Satan!

Satan who brought Jesus to a high mountain, offered the glory of all nations, and bowed down to him only for Jesus!

This is absolutely basic love!

She was surprised that Satan, who deceived all living beings, must be black-haired without a doubt!It's not black hair and no aura!Can you imagine Satan confessing to Jesus with his yellow hair?

……

Sherlock was unmoved: "Golden."

Ludwig: "Black."

"Golden."

"Black."

"Oh, Vichy, Satan's archetype is an angel, and a black angel doesn't fit the Gospel of Matthew, and even though the book is boring, there's no denying that his hair is blond..."

Sherlock also wanted to cite his powerful brain index and list the arguments to support his conclusion.

But before he finished speaking, he felt the cold gaze from his girlfriend, as if saying:

"Satan's blond hair is highly incompatible with the little cherry cake. If his hair is blond, the little cherry cake in the recipe tomorrow——l.".

Sherlock: "..."

He paused, and closed his mouth wisely:

"Well, that's not the point."

He reluctantly said:

"Continue to discuss the case. You are a higher-end devil than the blond devils of all religions in the world, and your extremely esoteric story—what is it?"

"Actually, you should take a look at this book. It is implicitly full of provocations, murders, and dismemberment for no reason."

Ludwig smiled slightly:

"The world's most complete collection of semi-realistic detective stories - "Grimm's Fairy Tales."

Sherlock: "..."

Fairy tales are one of the most difficult literary genres in the world.

Ludwig once looked for fairy tales from all over the world to read, not to make up for his childhood, but to be extremely surprised by the content of the fairy tales.

She had forgotten whether she had read such an article in an Italian fairy tale or an Icelandic fairy tale - the son of infinite strength destroyed too many things in the house, so his father thought of a way and entrusted him to go to a place to do something, And that place is inhabited by demons.

This fairy tale tells us that the father may try to send his son to die in order to reduce financial losses.

...So, how dark the heart of a person who writes fairy tales must be.

"The story is actually very simple."

Ludwig patted the bed and said with a smile:

"Come on, little Xiali, lie down obediently and listen to Aunt Ludwig tell you a bedtime story."

"..."

Sherlock calmly took out his mobile phone, ready to rely on the Internet to support himself:

"It turns out that I shouldn't expect you to popularize fairy tales for me."

"Don't, sir, don't lie down until you lie down."

Ludwig immediately took his hand:

"The opportunity to tell Sherlock Holmes a fairy tale is too rare... This is probably a long-cherished wish that Mycroft has dreamed of all his life but will never be able to realize."

How could she give up!

Sherlock stared at her holding his hand: "..."

Ludwig was so excited that he didn't realize that he was shaking Mr. Holmes' finger:

"Did he put a camera in your room? Would he be so jealous that I told you a bedtime story?"

——I heard that Mycroft once suggested that Sherlock force-feed her in the way of a mental hospital?

Humph, then vomit blood.

Sherlock still looked at the hand he was holding, and his brain was struggling unprecedentedly.

—If both hands are held, it is obvious that he will not be able to use the third hand to type.

Then he can only listen to her so-called "bedtime stories."

But if you want to tell her to let go...

Sherlock lowered his eyes and said in a cold, reserved tone:

"If you insist on popularizing the knowledge of fairy tales yourself, please make sure that the discrepancy between your narrative and the original text does not exceed 5.00%—otherwise it will affect my judgment."

"Fairy tales are too simple and crude, usually with only one main line. Green is not Andersen, and there are not too many complicated images."

Ludwig waved his hand...and of course let go of Sherlock's hand.

Sherlock: "..."

Sure enough, people's next move is the most unpredictable.

It was an unnecessary sacrifice.

Thus, the first popularization of fairy tales in Mr. Holmes' life began under his erroneous judgment and huge sacrifice.

"...The king heard this prophecy and was afraid that the baby would marry his own daughter in the future, so he packed the baby in a wooden box and floated down the river..."

"This move is unreasonable."

Sherlock frowned:

"There was no ritual of putting people in boxes in the Middle Ages. He had a thousand ways to directly kill babies and dispose of corpses. Why did he choose the way with the highest failure rate?"

Ludwig: "...Don't worry so much about fairy tales, you will lose if you are serious, sir."

"If his actions were to evade responsibility or create an alibi, it would be acceptable, but it is obvious that if the king wants to create an alibi for killing a baby, he should not choose the river near here..."

Ludwig pressed his throbbing temple:

"Sir, fairy tales don't consider logic. If you want to analyze them one by one, you will be exhausted."

Sherlock frowned:

"I'm just raising reasonable doubts..."

Ludwig: "...are you still listening?"

"……listen."

And so the fairy tale continues.

"...13 years later, the king found out that the baby was not dead. He was very frightened and asked him to send a letter to the queen. The letter said that the queen should kill the messenger immediately. The robber forged the king's letter and asked the queen to marry the princess to a boy ...then, as the prophecy said, the boy married the princess at the age of 14."

Sherlock frowned again because of this absurd logic.

Seeing his frown, Ludwig immediately said before he opened his mouth:

"I know what you want to say. Indeed, the real king's letters have anti-counterfeiting marks and are difficult to produce. Moreover, it is puzzling that the queen did not recognize her husband's notes... You don't need to open your mouth."

Sherlock: "..."

"...the king was very angry when he found out, and he asked the boy to take off the devil's three golden hairs to admit the marriage. So the boy set off. He passed a city with a dry spring, and a city with a golden apple tree that did not grow leaves. After going through another lake, I finally reached hell, and with the help of the devil's grandmother, I took off the devil's three golden hairs."

Ludwig and Sherlock sat face to face on the bed, holding their knees together:

"Basically, the whole drama is over... Judging by your expression, I don't seem to need to ask you how you felt when you heard the fairy tale for the first time."

Sherlock was silent for a moment:

"It's really hard to describe, and I don't know what it means at all-what does this story want to express?"

"……In fact, I do not know."

Ludwig shrugged:

"I've never been able to grasp the point of Grimm's fairy tales, it's a combination of magical realism and stream of consciousness...otherwise why would I call it esoteric?"

Sherlock's slender legs stretched out beside Ludwig.

He assumed his classic thinking posture again, staring straight ahead:

"Your father wouldn't give a nine-year-old child too difficult a puzzle... What this fairy tale wants to express is its literal meaning. If my guess is correct, the city with the fountain means..."

"No, no, don't tell me—I'm not going to sit here and listen to your reasoning all night."

Ludwig interrupted him, jumping off the bed:

"I have an exam tomorrow."

Sherlock also clasped his hands under his chin, disapproving of her rejection:

"The reasoning just makes you sober, it kills two birds with one stone, Vichy, we need to go to France now..."

Going to France at one o'clock in the morning?

"..."

Ludwig:

"If you deliberately blocked what I said just now, then I don't mind repeating it again——I will have an exam tomorrow morning."

"I don't have a rain shield, and I know you have an exam tomorrow morning, but there is no conflict between the two."

Sherlock jumped up from the bed, and quickly took his coat from the coat rack on one side:

"The fastest way to travel from England to France is to take the night bus. It only takes two hours. Your first math test starts at [-]:[-] in the morning. We can stay in France until [-]:[-] and come back. There are nearly three hours in between... "

...Mr. Holmes has a girlfriend?

No, the one he raises is definitely a superwoman.

Ludwig yawned and interrupted his eloquent arrangement with a wave of his hand.

"Last night, I say, sir."

She smiled expressionlessly:

"Just stop daydreaming... I will never accompany you."

Sherlock: "..."

This is really an unsolvable logic problem——

When he was talking during the day, she said it was daytime, stop dreaming.

When he talked at night, she said it was night, stop daydreaming.

……

Sherlock stopped putting on his coat - because Ludwig was still wearing a bath towel and had no intention of changing at all.

He reluctantly compromised a step:

"Well, if you're really sleepy..."

Ludwig looked up.

She was also a little curious about this question - what would happen to him if she was really sleepy?

Sherlock's expression was very reluctant:

"I could wait until you've finished your coffee...but then we're 10 minutes too late to get to the truth, oh, Vichy, that's 10 minutes."

Ludwig: "..."

She was too sleepy to expect anything from Sherlock.

Sherlock's coat has been put on, and he arranges his collar deftly:

"Are you finally going to change your clothes?"

Ludwig walked towards the door and answered quickly: "No, I want to sleep."

Sherlock's fingers rested on the collar, and his eyes followed her all the way to the door in disbelief:

"You mean you won't come with me?"

"Ah."

Sherlock smiled:

"Oh, stop joking, I need you, Vichy."

Ludwig was turning the doorknob.

Hearing this, she turned around:

"you need me?"

Sherlock said without hesitation:

"of course."

Ludwig leaned against the door frame, crossed his arms, stared at him inscrutablely for a while, and suddenly smiled at him:

"But what to do? I don't need you."

Sherlock: "..."

Ludwig stretched his arms lazily, stretched lazily, and said lazily:

"I just need Hypnos now."

Her arms were bare outside the snow-white bath towel, slender and slender.

The warm yellow light in the living room came from behind her, smearing on her bare shoulders and arms, leaving a long shadow on the printed bed sheet.

She turned around and faced Sherlock sideways, with her fair fingers entwined with the black hair, her expression was heartless and innocent.

"I'm a generous girlfriend, you don't need to praise me."

With her long black hair touching her chin, she sighed leisurely:

"I give you the stage tonight, and give you everything... Please enjoy it to your heart's content, and I wish you a happy case solving, sir."

"..."