[Comprehensive] Mrs. Holmes Daily

The Ludwigs seem to prefer white, except for Ludwig himself.

When she walked through the pure white corridor and walked into her bedroom, the style of the room immediately changed—the wallpaper on the wall was Vincent Van Gogh's "Almond Blossom".

On the dark blue background, the warm white flowers stretch their teeth and claws, trying to fly out of the wall.

Little Ludwig's taste is very similar to hers, whether it's wallpaper or books, everything.

And this often creates an illusion that she doesn't want to admit.

Ludwig lifted the bed sheet printed with blue abstract patterns. The thick tatami mattresses were arranged one by one. She stretched her hand over, like taking a cake, and took out a piece that she had cut along the seam. Mattresses come.

There was a letter under the mattress, a letter from Uncle Camilla telling her to go to Mrs. Hudson.

And a gun... a small Smith & Wesson revolver.

This Smith & Wesson revolver is quite old, but it is well preserved. It has a [-]cm caliber and is equipped with three quick loaders. One loader is equipped with five bullets, and three of them have fifteen rounds. It is logically enough. up.

But to her, it was mysterious.

She is not the sharpshooter John Watson, she is amazing at a hundred paces, she is just a rotten house in a peaceful world, before she shoots, she had better learn how to load it.

After searching for a long time without finding the instruction manual, Ludwig decided to use her old method that has never changed—whether it will or not, just try it.

The handle of this revolver is purple, and it is obviously a female short gun. Nine out of ten it is the female gun used by Ludwig's mother Caroline.

Guns are banned in France, but according to her father’s memoirs, before giving birth to Ludwig, his dear wife, Caroline, had been doing research with him in Crete in the Mediterranean Sea. It is not surprising that a gun would be smuggled back to France.

After filling the magazine with bullets, she conveniently stuffed the gun into the waistband of her trousers behind her. The loose clothes fell down, covering the metal gun body nakedly.

——The Japanese kimono-style short coat is good for this. Whether it is hiding a gun for a crime or cheating in an exam and collecting books, it is a magic weapon when it is properly prepared. You must have one at home.

By the time she finishes these, 1 minute has passed.

She took out an exquisite and small flashlight from the drawer, which was a prop for her and Le Shiweiqiong when they were bored playing the game of catching ghosts.

As for the black light?

No, she didn't have any black lights in the house at all.

If there was one thing her time on Baker Street had taught her, it was how to lie completely under the covers.

After all, there is a humanoid polygraph accompanying him [-]/[-]. In order not to run around naked every day under the sight of Mr. Holmes comparable to gamma rays, he has to practice skills even if he has no skills.

Ludwig took one last glance at the window, opened the door, and stepped out into the darkness.

2 minutes later, on the Louvre Square.

He picked up his cell phone and wanted to locate her, but suddenly remembered that she didn't bring her cell phone.

When they went out today, she was held by his hand and ran to the street as soon as she finished dressing. She didn't find a chance to take her mobile phone at all.

Sherlock's brain was spinning rapidly, starting with the last action she made to him. Every word she said, every action she made, and even every expression she showed in the past few days seemed like The river flowed upstream, and the turbulent waves filled the dry riverbed.

It was the most high-definition part of all the pictures collected on the hard drive of his brain, and it was his separate revolving lantern theater.

It's so subtle, every time the corner of her mouth rises.

There must be something wrong.

Water and mead are ready-made drinks, and it takes several procedures to turn coffee beans into freshly ground coffee, not to mention the complicated procedures when the French use the press method to make coffee.

So, if she's afraid he's thirsty, she should normally list the easiest options first and put the coffee last.If she wants to cheer him up, coffee should also be a priority.

In any case, as a general rule of how people narrate, she shouldn't have put coffee in the middle.

He stared at the only window that was lit in the darkness, and strode forward with strides, the wind picked up his steps, and the hem of his black coat was lifted.

There was no one on the balcony, and the moonlight had nothing to rely on, so the slender red iris had to be caged.

What about her?

Is she making coffee in her room, or... wait, making coffee?

Sherlock looked up suddenly.

He found the crux of the problem.

She is making coffee?How could she make coffee?

The revolving lantern theater freezes until one day ago.

She is familiar with his coffee habit, and knows that caffeine is like nicotine, calming him in days without cases and puzzles.But when he was invited to her apartment as her boyfriend for lunch and to fix the lightbulb...

She handed him a bottle of water.

When Old John was terrified by the hostess' hospitality, she smiled and said, "How can I be polite? I didn't even pour you a cup of coffee."

Going back to when she first came to Baker Street, during that time, the conversation that must have happened between them every day was——

Her: "Drink milk?"

Him: "Coffee."

She insisted: "Drink the milk."

Him: "Coffee."

Her: "...Okay, coffee."

Him: "Two pieces of candy."

……

This was a victory he was accustomed to, but just because these trivial details had been integrated into his life, as natural as his every breath, he could not quickly substitute these details into solving the case.

He should have thought of it earlier.

She doesn't like drinking coffee at all, coffee is just a habit she acquired to accommodate him.

Therefore, she does not have a tea maker or press pot for making coffee at home, otherwise she would not entertain guests with only mineral water when they come to the house.

She lied.

And if you take coffee out of the three drinks she listed, you're left with...water and mead.

Her tricks are obvious.

But because the person he was facing was her, she interfered with his judgment so easily.

……

The doors of the old apartment buildings were locked from the inside.

It is an old copper keyhole. Because this kind of lock does not use any modern technology, its internal structure will be more complicated to increase security.

But that only held Sherlock back for a second.

In the next second, Sherlock pushed open the heavy door with a "squeak", and walked towards Ludwig's apartment in a posture that at least seemed quite calm.

Twenty seconds later, Sherlock stood at Ludwig's door, his eyes terrified.

—she took the key from under the insole.

The German anti-theft device she bought specially for the stalker is not that easy to deal with. Although he can open it, it will take a little time.

From the time she walked into the underground casino alone, he should have known that she would not just stay in his arms and wait to be rescued... despite all the hints he had made, despite the explicit invitations he had made.

But she still excluded him from her plan, leaving no gaps.

His vigilance was let down by her growing dependence on him, and his eyes were blinded by her complete and unreserved trust.

He forgot that her refusal would be like the trust she gave—completely, without reservation.

Unforgivable.

With a "click", Sherlock activated Germany's most rigorous civilian anti-theft system, with only one needle as the tool.

German door lock designers will cry.

At this point, another minute passed.

He pursed his lips tightly, the room was empty, only the mineral water bottle opened by her fell on the ground, the water gurgled out, leaving dark marks on the white plush carpet.

The wool on the rug was tottering here and there, and it looked like she was having some mental struggle here.

She should be lucky for her little struggle.

If she kicked him away without even thinking about it, it wasn't something her crude little tricks could cover.

Sherlock strode into her bedroom.

The tatami mattress that Ludwig had lifted was still piled up on the bed in a mess. Under the mattress was a letter and... traces of a gun.

gun?

She doesn't know how to use a gun at all, is she planning to use the gun as a chisel to make holes?

Sherlock put the letter on the bed into his pocket, his gray gem-like eyes were as indifferent as a frozen lake, but someone ignited a spark on the lake.

They are the same people.

Both are unwilling to be protected, both are used to traveling alone, and both are adventurers.

But it was precisely because she was too accustomed to solving problems alone that she would not think about what losing her meant to him.

If you lose her...

Sherlock slightly hooked the corners of his lips, his eyes were dark, and the frost condensed little by little, extinguishing the fire.

The Mole always thought he was careful enough to leave no trace when he smuggled his food back to his burrow.

But the fox can always take them all in one pot.

God favors mammals, so he gave them the largest cerebral cortex.

God favors Sherlock Holmes, so their synapses are much more than the average person.

Sherlock stood at the cave entrance, carefully identifying the footprints in the ashes.

His little girlfriend, Miss Ludwig, was wearing motorcycle boots today with diamond-shaped soles, which should stand out among the insulated boots worn by construction workers.

But Sherlock didn't find a single diamond pattern.

It seems that his little girlfriend is well versed in his attainments in the study of shoe prints, and wiped off the shoe prints very carefully.

but……

Sherlock silently followed the traces left by Ludwig—his Miss Mole obviously didn't realize that the footprints became more conspicuous after she deliberately erased them.

It seemed she was walking in a hurry.

Too anxious to think about the problem.

The cave leads to countless criss-crossing tunnels-water pipe channels, gas channels, underground water channels, heating pipes, and drainage channels for underground parking garages and underground shopping malls.

The huge underground network left behind by the ground city construction is not much simpler than the Cretan labyrinth.

A hole accidentally opened by construction workers has become a stage for a huge religious conspiracy. The dead and the living wear masks and appear on the stage in turn.

The sound of dripping water in the sewer came from not far away, and the only light in the tunnel was the faint light of the flashlight that came with his mobile phone.

It was pitch black ahead, and the rancid smell came from deeper underground, but he didn't seem to notice it, and the corner of the cashmere coat brushed against the moss-covered water pipe.

The further you go in, the quieter the wind becomes.

The intercommunicating tunnel will be windy.

If the sound of the wind becomes quieter, it can only mean...she has walked into a dead end.

She's at a dead end.

Ludwig turned on the flashlight and found that he had walked into a dead end. There were huge iron pans on three sides, and the eight feet were firmly clasped to the black mottled pan sitting on the wall. It looked like it had been around for some years.

This should be the flood gate under the Louvre Museum. If the Seine River surges one day, in order to protect the cultural relics in the Louvre Museum, they will open this gate and drain the flood water from the huge sewer.

She was following her memory...was the memory wrong, or was the movie itself wrong?

The light of the flashlight swayed overhead, and Ludwig pressed his fingers on the furry and greasy surface of the iron plate. The stone above his head was dripping water drop by drop, and the cold and turbid water dripped across her long hair.

Ludwig silently reached out and shook his hair.

Hope this isn't the restroom of the Louvre...

She leaned on the gate, and the smell of rust came to her face, but the corrosion on the card wheel was not very serious. Judging by the color, the material should be aluminum.

Aluminum reacts with oxygen in the air to form a dense oxide film, which slows down its corrosion.

Now Miss Ludwig Double has two options to choose from.

One is to stay in the dark underground, give it a try, and see if you can find a way to open the gate.

The other is to go back the same way, and then be caught by her boyfriend, who will be taken back and beaten... This is definitely going to be taken back and beaten, no matter how good her reasons are.

... Forget it, let's give it a go.

Sherlock with a cold face was scary enough, she couldn't imagine Sherlock with a dark face.

Ludwig changed his hand to hold the flashlight, and was about to find clues on the other iron plate, when suddenly there was a rustling sound from the bottom of his feet.

Then she saw a big mouse coming out of nowhere, moving slowly, looking left and right on the stone for a while, and then slowly walking towards her, with its tiny paws on the ground. The stud buckles on her vamps.

Finally, it sat majestically on the top of her black biker boots.

Ludwig: "..."

She raised her flashlight and shone it on the big mouse.

This mouse guessed that it often went to the ground to steal food, and after dealing with people for a long time, it was not afraid of light at all.

One person and one mouse stared at each other for two seconds in the dark.

Big Mouse: "Squeak."

Ludwig: "..."

She supported her forehead: "It's useless for you to stare at me. I'm not Disney. If you look at me, I can't turn you into Mickey Mouse."

This time the mouse was reserved and kept silent.

"Hey, I said."

Ludwig shook the shoe upper, trying to shake it off:

"You're a bit outrageously fat, you know that?"

The big mouse's paws tightly clasped her shoelaces, and its long beard trembled slightly. It seemed that it had never seen anyone underground, and it regarded her as some kind of movable doll on the ground.

...that's so underestimated.

Ludwig grabbed its beard and pulled it out, and she pulled out two beards.

The big mouse exploded instantly, baring its teeth.

Fortunately, it is fat enough and slow enough.

Ludwig withdrew his hand all of a sudden, and when the claws were loosened, he raised his feet and shook them vigorously.

The big mouse finally couldn't catch it, and it fell from her feet with a "click".

Then, Ludwig saw again, after being pulled by his beard and fell once, the fat mouse still crawled unhurriedly to the bottom of the sluice gate, got in unhurriedly, and disappeared .

...to get in?

Shouldn't flood gates be sealed?How did it get in?

There are tricks.

Ludwig grabbed her hair and immediately lay down, the rough stone rubbed against her cheek, she couldn't care less.

The bright light of the flashlight shines on the gap at the bottom of the left disc. The gap is not big, but a magical animal like a mouse can always come out of all kinds of unimaginable places, no matter how fat it is.

Facts in the biological world have proved that ability has nothing to do with fat or thin, so why can't fat people stand in the foreground.

The disc was covered with a thick layer of moss, which was slippery to the touch.

Ludwig tossed his hair back, bit the flashlight, took a sharp stone, and began to clean up the dirt and microorganisms that had settled on the disc.

As the old traces of these years gradually peeled off, a line of "zero" hidden in the rust color gradually appeared.

Ludwig opened his mouth, and the flashlight fell to the ground with a "snap", and it was still firmly on.

This is... a combination disk?

Do you still need to think about the password disk with ten digits?

Ludwig reached out to press the code on it, but found that her fingers were too thick and her nails were too thick compared to the small turntable handle, and it was impossible to turn the gear to the number she wanted.

The so-called handle is just a small protrusion less than a millimeter, the person who set the combination disk is simply crazy.

But how could such a small matter be difficult for her.

She plucked a hair from her head, hooked the hair to the protrusion on the gear, and slowly adjusted all ten small gears to the number she needed.

The cipher of the Frog Prince, Cattelan Number.

1, 2, 5, 1, 4, 4, 2, 1, 3, 2.

She held the handle on the iron disc, kicked her foot against the wall, and slowly pulled the heavy big guy with the strength she had squeezed out of the birth canal.

There was no sound at all, obviously the material used inside is not cheap metal like iron.

A long, darker and more eerie corridor was revealed in front of her eyes.

Also revealed is a mouse.

The big mouse that just got in was squatting in the middle of the passage, watching the door that had been dusty for ten years quietly open, and there was a woman with disheveled hair standing at the door.

A mouse has a small, pathetic cerebral cortex, which is obviously a bit beyond its cognition.

In the next second, the big mouse displayed its unprecedented agility, flew out from Ludwig's feet with a "swish", and disappeared into the dark tunnel.

Miss Ludwig the Mole: "..."

She seems to be disgusted by mice?

The other end of the tunnel.

Not far from Ludwig, Sherlock stopped at a fork in the road.

—the footprints disappeared.

It seems that his little girlfriend has discovered the repetitive mistakes she made, and no longer directly steps on the sand and stones that are easy to leave marks, but chooses to step on gravel.

In order to get rid of him, she really took great pains and did everything she could.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes coldly.

But it doesn't matter.

As long as things are done, there will be reactions, and as long as the road has been passed, traces will be left.

And at this moment, he saw a small black dot running out from the depths of a tunnel, staggering, panicking and panicking.

Under the faint light of the phone, Sherlock raised his eyebrows in surprise.

This is...a mouse?