[Comprehensive] Mrs. Holmes Daily

If there is a more cheating guy than Le Shiwei in the world, it must be Ludwig's dead cheap daddy, Professor Van-Ludwig.

"Fuck, is this a password for a nine-year-old girl? Cattelan number?"

After getting a positive answer from Sherlock, Ludwig was out of anger:

"Look at how perverted the Cattelan number is... n-digit binary? C? Combinatorics? Triangulation of convex polygons? Sorry, don't say nine years old, I still don't know how to prove the Cattelan number at the age of 17."

Sherlock reminded lightly: "Yes... just turning eighteen is eighteen."

"I have postponed my birthday to NO.14 in July (Note: France's birthday). I don't want to die but live together, which represents my deep love for the French Fifth Republic... Don't you know?"

Ludwig said confidently:

"So I'm 17 again."

Sherlock: "..."

Cattelan numbers, an extension of Euler's problem.

1, 2, 5, 14, 42, 132.

Those two ordinary signs—chats dessert, alan candy, the French chat is replaced by the English cat, and then connected with alan, is the name of the classic recursive sequence prover——

catalan.

Cattelan.

Is there anyone in the world who has learned mathematics for so many years but still doesn't know Cattelan numbers?

Of course there are.

Like Miss Ludwig Double.

Sherlock: "Actually, most people know that Cattelan numbers are no less famous than Fibonacci numbers, and its recursion has been applied in many convex polygon ciphers."

"So I will never tell you that I only knew it was a row of numbers when I was reviewing A-level math three days ago."

Ludwig let out a "hehe":

"I always thought Cattelan and Atlantis were the same thing."

Sherlock: "...I'm sorry I overestimated you."

Fountain, Hugo, Frog, Prince.

--password.

Sherlock frowned:

"There are so many ways to create codes in the world, such as replacement, disorder, wheels, and all kinds of ancient code systems—why do you have to get involved with fairy tales?"

"In order for me to understand, sir, I now know why you must drag me to France this time."

——Because these are not Sherlock's areas, if he doesn't bring her here, it means that he has to find the one that meets the requirements from thousands of search keywords.

Of course he can figure it out.

It's just too time consuming.

Ludwig looked around for the shadow of the taxi:

"There are no taxis here, we are going to take a taxi at Charles de Gaulle...but where are we going next?"

"The method is used for the first time, and it is habitually used for the second time. The person who cracks the code is like this, and the person who writes the code is also like this."

Sherlock strode ahead of her, and Ludwig had to trot to keep up.

His gray eyes gazed into the black cave at the end of the road, and he said gravely:

"The place we're going to go to next is - pidou."

Center Pompidou.

Compared with Americans and Asians, Europeans prefer to rest time relatively.

One of the most obvious manifestations of this difference is that they did not see a taxi on the streets of Paris late at night.

The French are lazy.

The two stood at Place de Gaulle, and Ludwig never let go of his outstretched hand.

15 minutes.

Ludwig frowned: "It's unscientific. I got a taxi here at four o'clock in the morning several times."

How many times?Four in the morning?

Sherlock glanced at a few rather large bars not far away with a rather indifferent expression, but did not speak.

——The past life of his little girlfriend was indeed quite exciting.

At this moment, a black car slowly stopped beside Ludwig's outstretched hand.

Ludwig opened the car door without looking at it: "Look, I said I can get a taxi..."

Sherlock didn't stop her.

He just commented objectively like a teacher teaching a reckless student:

"Oh, Vichy, if you want to hijack a private car, you can't just get in the car casually. A gun and the owner's weakness, you must have at least one of the two as a condition of exchange..."

Before he could finish speaking, the windows of the black Land Rover slowly rolled down.

In the car, the tone of the young platinum blonde boy was unbelievable and irrepressible surprise:

"wigi, why are you here?"

Sherlock paused for a moment.

Immediately afterwards, he turned his head to look at Ludwig, and repeated lightly: "...wigi?"

Ludwig, ludwig, Sherlock started calling her wig, Vig from the second time they met—no matter what reason and psychology he had at the time, it was an exclusive nickname anyway.

But this boy who just got out of school and likes baseball, football and drama, and who obviously has a cerebral cortex as sparse as a bird calls her...wigi.

Vicky.

Nickname in Nickname.

……

Sherlock sat in the back seat of the car, his fingers flicking with dizzying speed on his small phone.

And now the other two who are sitting in the same car with him are talking about old times.

...oh, catch up on old times.

"I actually saw you at Place Charles de Gaulle at four o'clock in the morning... It was like a dream."

The young boy glanced back at Ludwig with a gentle smile on his face:

"You haven't come to class. I found out about your exam room. After the exam, I immediately went to the door of your exam room to find you...but you have already left."

... On the day of the graduation exam, she did leave the exam room early.

The reason is that 15 minutes before the end of the exam, she finished writing the last word, and accidentally looked up at the clock, only to find that Mr. Holmes was standing by her window with his hands in his pockets, his expression...extremely impatient.

...Is this trying to scare my father to death?

This guy didn't come to wait for her.

This girl was tired of waiting outside, and came to urge her to leave the exam room after the exam.

Ludwig thought about the boy's name quickly in his heart, and said:

"Sorry, I left early that day."

"It's okay, just because I missed that time, God let us meet again today."

The boy smiled and said softly:

"But Vicky...it's been a really long time since we saw each other."

...Of course it's been a long time, so she can't remember his name at all.

How can I say hello without a name, please tell me!

"The last time you came to class was two months ago... Today is our class's graduation party, which is near here. It just ended. I sent you an email, don't you know?"

Ludwig smiled awkwardly: "Really? I haven't checked my e-mail for a long time."

"You're too much of a loner, Vicky."

The boy is holding the steering wheel with one hand and wearing a Vacheron Constantin watch on his wrist.

In the dim light, the broken diamonds on the dial shine with a low-key light.

"There are always people who want to help you, accompany you, and even admire you...but they can't find the slightest gap or way."

……

Sherlock sat in the spacious and comfortable back seat, and calmly called up a document from his mobile phone.

...oh, catch up on old times.

This is simply one of the most boring inventions of human beings in the normal world.

……

The car passed the buffer belt, and Sherlock and Ludwig also swayed with the bumpy body.

The boy's tone didn't mean to blame:

"I asked all our teachers, none of them have your contact information, and you only filled in an email address in the school file..."

Ludwig couldn't help frowning:

"You went to the school's file form to find my contact information?"

"Sorry, I know it's a bit of an invasion of privacy...but I couldn't help it."

The platinum-blond boy said quietly:

"I've been looking for you, Vicky, I've been looking for you for two months..."

Sherlock suddenly frowned at the phone:

"Vichy, there is a little problem here."

Just as Ludwig was about to reply, Sherlock drew his attention:

"what is the problem?"

"Your father's ashtray."

Sherlock put the phone in her hand, with a serious tone:

"I didn't pay attention at first, but it just occurred to me that your father had a habit of smoking - he smoked local homemade cigarettes in Egypt."

Ludwig looked at the picture on the phone screen, which was taken by Sherlock, the ashtray her father put in the low table drawer.

He just mentioned it to her 10 minutes ago.

... But what's wrong with the ashtray?She's been watching it for ten years, it's just an ashtray.

Ludwig: "So?"

"Oh, Vichy, I've put the question before you."

Sherlock glanced at her:

"Egyptian cigarettes are very irritating, which means that your father is not a small smoker, but this ashtray has not been used at all."

"Because he likes this ashtray. He has always collected rather than used his precious things. Of course, this is just my guess, because my father also has an inexpensive pen hidden in the drawer gift box, which is also brand new."

Not expensive, excluding the situation that you are not willing to use because the price is too high.

Putting it in a gift box means that he treasured this pen because of the gift giver.

Ludwig returned the phone to Sherlock, his eyes seemed to say——

"Is this something worth mentioning to me specifically?"

Sherlock: "..."

Ludwig turned to the platinum-haired boy: "Sorry, you go on."

The boy smiled, did not continue the topic just now, and asked casually:

"Why did you come to Hugo Avenue at four in the morning? I heard your father, is something wrong?"

Ludwig keenly noticed that he said "you" and completely ignored Sherlock Holmes, who had a strong sense of presence.

"Let's take care of a little personal business."

She puts a lot of emphasis on "we."

Even though Holmes doesn't need other people to emphasize his presence.

There was no other reason for Ludwig to do this, but he just didn't want to be rehabilitated - having a boyfriend with an amazing memory and who liked to haggle to emphasize her responsibilities was sometimes a very troublesome thing.

"Really? So you're still living in France?"

"No, I live in London Bay, England now..."

Before the pronunciation of "street" was spoken, Sherlock suddenly spoke again, which happened to interrupt her:

"We have arrived."

Without waiting for the young driver to stop, Sherlock had already opened the car door and jumped out - pulling Ludwig by the way.

His black overcoat arched in the wind, like every time he jumped out of the taxi before it came to a stop.

"Vicky!"

The boy behind him stopped her, and Ludwig turned around.

The platinum-haired boy slowly drove the car to her side, took out a small box from the pocket of the gray windbreaker, and handed it over.

"I thought you would come today, so I prepared a belated birthday present for you - I was going to confess to you today."

He said softly:

"I was disappointed that you didn't come...but God couldn't bear to see his people so lost, so I saw you again."

"Thank you."

Ludwig slowly reached out and took the small box:

"But I already have a relationship, so... I'm sorry."

Sherlock stood three paces away from her, presumably waiting for her to finish things off.

The boy glanced in Sherlock's direction and smiled again, his brilliant platinum hair shining in the light.

"Having a relationship partner is not a problem."

The tone is firm, with the disdain unique to young people.

He took Ludwig's hand and kissed it lightly, raised his head, and smiled slightly:

"Vicky, you, of course, can't just have one boyfriend - if he's the current one, then I'll be the next one."

Ludwig: "..."

Boy, do you know that Sherlock Holmes is standing two meters away from you?

I have seen the compass of your death turn.

"I know you forgot my name... This is the second time you forgot my name, I hope you can remember it when we meet next time."

He started the engine again:

"My name is Cervantes."

"...Thank you for sending us off, and have a good journey, Cervantes."

Cervantes waved to her, made a phone call to her, and said coolly when the car passed by her:

"When you break up, remember to call me."

Ludwig: "..."

Young Cervantes, please go all the way.

Ludwig walked up to Sherlock: "Let's go, sir."

Sherlock gave her a cold look: "Why don't you open the present and have a look, Vicky?"

"...Vicky was the nickname given to me by the little boys in my class. I was asleep at the time, and they took it as my acquiescence."

Ludwig unwrapped layers of wrapping paper:

"Senior, don't be naive than your younger brother, okay?"

Sherlock: "..."

The gift box was opened, and inside was a beautifully packaged, slender metal hair clip with tiny crystals on one end.

—Accidentally in line with her taste.

Sherlock leaned over to take a look, and commented lightly:

"Barely medium in firmness and purity."

Ludwig pinned it to the pocket of his black silk trousers:

"Another good thing, don't you think this hairpin is very similar to the tool you used to teach me how to pick a lock last time?"

Sherlock glanced at her pocket:

"This one is too curved, you can use it when you become more proficient in lockpicking."

Ludwig raised his head and stared at Sherlock's face for a long time, as if horns suddenly grew on his head:

"Why are you so kind and generous today?"

After provocation by Cervantes?It's not like Sherlock at all.

Sherlock was noncommittal: "Why not?"

He pulled a pink French driver's license from his pocket.

Then—throw it lightly into the trash can on the side.

"When he is about to lose his driver's license for driving without a license, we should be more tolerant."

Ludwig: "..."

She stared at the abandoned driver's license with wide eyes:

"When did you steal his..."

Ludwig suddenly realized... When the car passed the buffer zone, the small bumps could be explained by her inability to sit still. How could Sherlock not sit still?

With his hands in his pockets, Sherlock glanced at her calmly from the side:

"It's a real puzzle... when?"

Ludwig: "..."

Half a minute later, the two were walking on Boulevard Beaubourg on the right bank of the Seine, facing the breeze at four o'clock in the morning, laughing sullenly.

Boulevard Beaubourg on the right bank of the Seine, Georges Pompidou National Center for Art and Culture.

The waves formed by the stepped promenade roll on the wall of the main building of the Pompidou Center. This huge building covering an area of ​​7500 square meters is like a mechanical factory made of pipes and iron frames.

What Sherlock said earlier——

"The method is used for the first time, and it is habitually used for the second time. The person who cracks the code is like this, and the person who writes the code is also like this."

Just like the riddle of Fountain and Fantine, after cracking Professor Ludwig's code for the first time, the second time, you are already familiar with it.

Pompidou, pompidou.

The French word for apple is also - d'or.

Standing in front of this cultural "refinery" named after French President Pompidou, Ludwig said blankly:

"So, sir, how do we find a 'rat' among a bunch of museums and libraries?"