[Comprehensive] Mrs. Holmes Daily

"Vichy?"

Sherlock got up from the bed with a soft sound like a gust of wind.

"is it you?"

Be careful, for fear that if the sound is louder, the soul will be scattered.

But Ludwig heard it anyway.

She turned her head slightly and smiled at him:

"it's me."

It was exactly the same pose as in his dream.

Under the gray sycamores and the blue honeysuckle, she stopped in an almost deserted silence, and she did the same, turning her head and smiling at him.

……

Death is irreversible, and a person cannot be resurrected after death.

So the woman in front of me is just a short dream...

It was a mist.

It was just an illusion caused by too strong desire in his mind... even though this illusion is so real.

Sherlock stared at her back without blinking.

The sun had already risen, and his little girlfriend withdrew her hand, turned around, and was looking at him with a smile, as calm as if she just came back from a vacation last night.

...That's right, the same eyebrows, the same look.

That was his Ludwig.

Even in his dream, her face can be clearly seen in every strand of hair and every eyelash, and every gesture of her hands carries a taste that he is familiar with in his bones.

She pressed her shoulder with some pain, and then walked in front of him.

Every morning when they were together, when she passed him, she would take a step back, turn her head sideways, and ask him——

"?"

……

At present, her pace is not fast, probably because his brain has taken into account that her muscles will become weak after excessive tension when constructing this dream.

When she passed by him, she suddenly seemed to remember something, and turned around and asked:

"Coffee, sir?"

Sherlock didn't answer.

Ludwig waited for a while, but didn't get an answer, so he nodded himself, and walked out:

"Okay, then drink milk."

……

—if this is a dream.

Just when she was about to pass by him, he suddenly grabbed her uninjured hand and pulled it down fiercely. Before Ludwig could cry out in surprise, he was hugged tightly by him fell on the bed.

"First……"

The flame-burned wound on her back rubbed against the cotton material, and she gasped in pain.

But Sherlock didn't give her a chance to cry out.

Because in the next second, a shower of kisses had already fallen on her face.

Her struggle was like that of an ant, her dodge was a futile dodge, and her hand pushed his chest like a mantis' arms.

It's so vulnerable.

With such a weak person, he only needs to use a little force to break her limbs... If he wants, she won't even have a chance to struggle.

But she slipped out of his hands and kicked him aside without hesitation, as cunning and ruthless as a fish.

She refuses his help.

She left him...and never came back.

Sherlock stared at the woman under him, and there was a storm in the lake with heavy eyes, just like the huge waves thousands of meters high in the sea, indicating a tsunami.

—if this is a dream.

With a sound of "tearing", he roughly tore open her clothes.

Ludwig's injured shoulder hurt terribly, struggling to get up from the bed, but Sherlock suppressed it effortlessly.

Her clothes were still on the side by him.

So her warm body, her delicate collarbone, her ups and downs, and... the scars on her body.

Everything that was once hidden was finally presented in front of him without any concealment.

scar.

The bruises from the collision, the burns from the flames... He stretched out his hand and slowly brushed the longest scar on her waist.

These wounds grew thorns in her body, which stabbed him badly in the eye.

—if this is a dream.

Ludwig's struggle seemed to stop for a moment.

But just when Sherlock let go of her hand and stroked her scar, Ludwig suddenly picked up a metal corner collection on the bedside table and threw it at his neck.

Sherlock didn't dodge, letting the book hit his neck, leaving a red scratch.

"I told you."

He looked at her slowly:

"If you want to attack, you must attack the most vulnerable place. Being merciful will only lead to a counterattack... But it is obvious, you forgot."

He reached out to caress the corner of her lips:

"But that's right...you never remember my words."

Just 1 minute before she abandoned him, he was still telling her that this may not be about her alone, and she does not have to hold on but not let go.

But she never remembered his words.

In other words, she never cared what he said.

She decides alone, takes risks alone, dies alone... none of this has anything to do with him, and he has never had a hand in her decisions.

...But what was the result?

If not for this dream.

If it wasn't for this dream... Would he still be able to see her again?

……

Ludwig felt chills from his staring eyes. When he didn't speak and his hands didn't exert force, he broke free from his restraints, turned over and crawled towards the side of the bed, trying to get out of this place .

But because of this action, she completely exposed her bare back to Sherlock's eyes.

——She suffered the explosion from behind.

The last fatal impact was also on the back.

……

Scarred and embarrassed.

Sherlock stared at the scars.

Slowly, slowly... the tsunami in his eyes finally couldn't resist his long-term depression, and burst out.

He grabbed Ludwig's waist and yanked back fiercely, and Ludwig was pulled back to the position under him.

He didn't take her injury into consideration this time.

The wound on Ludwig's back slammed into the rough sheet, almost as if it had been ripped away.

She couldn't help raising her neck because of the pain.

"Where do you want to go?"

Sherlock stroked her face gently:

"But sorry, this is my territory, so I won't let you go anywhere."

His dream, of course, is his territory.

At least in his dream, he can do whatever he wants... At least in his dream, she can't refuse him.

"Does it hurt?"

His slender and delicate fingers stroked from the corner of her lips all the way to her chin, and then her exquisitely shaped collarbone...but he didn't stop there.

His fingers slid deeper into the depths.

That was where the secret was, where she couldn't refuse him.

"So you know it hurts?"

He suddenly bit her neck hard:

"No, you don't know what pain is...otherwise you wouldn't have left me alone in the Louvre Square to die alone."

That's what hurts.

He never knew before that a person can turn your heart into a desert in just one second.

The wind blew over the sand dunes and the withered bushes, making my heart extremely cold and thirsty enough to smoke.

Not even a drop of water to quench thirst.

……

Ludwig raised her neck, trying to avoid his cruel kiss... She had already given up struggling, after a long struggle to survive, she really didn't have the strength to deal with her blackened boyfriend.

She turned her head slightly and watched the Japanese Ukiyo-e-like curtains being blown up by the wind. Pine branches and waves were printed on the curtains. When the wind blew, the curtains undulated, and the waves seemed to surge.

"So you plan to rape me to get your justice back?"

"Strong. Violent?"

Sherlock emerged from the long kiss, glanced at her lightly, and said in a calm tone that did not match his current actions:

"It's okay... because I don't mind if you come back after the rape."

afterwards?

No, there is no afterthought.

From the moment she stopped breathing, he had lost all her "after".

Now she is just his dream.

He could wake up at any time, and she could disappear at any time.

It may be 1 minute later, or it may be the next second.

What a fragile relationship... After she died, he realized that he hadn't left even a single trace of her vitality.

What can be left behind in a short time of communication?

Even if she was still alive, she would forget about such a brief encounter in a blink of an eye... Completely, thoroughly.

What she could remember, lingered in her heart, and the person who left the deepest impression was still only the owner of the coffee shop who died in front of her eyes.

--not him.

It will never be him.

The emptiness brought about by this cognition made him unbearable.

So he always has to leave something behind.

Even in a dream, even in my own head...and how sad it is.

Ludwig was lying on his back on the bed, his long black hair tangling with the flowers on the quilt.

Her snow-white body full of scars was laid out on the light white apricot blossom brocade, as if carrying some kind of irresistible temptation for him, which made him unable to restrain her kiss.

kiss.

There were too few kisses between them.

And he seems determined to make it all up today.

He took her uninjured hand, dragged it to the top of her head, from the inside of her wrist, along the delicate arm, lingered over the soft hollow at the end of her arm, and kissed her waist all the way.

Her waist is also thin and soft... He took a bite on it lightly, and then bent her legs.

Only her leg was unharmed.

He imitated what he did to her arm, held her ankle with one hand, and kissed from the inside of her ankle to the end of her slender legs.

But that's just the end of the legs.

And the end of man is very long.

So he didn't stop there.

……

Ludwig turned his head sideways, quietly looking at the sunlight that gradually brightened outside the window, and then gradually dimmed... It was a burst of clouds, which were blown away, and then came again, so the light and shadow falling on the bed also Changing indefinitely.

Sherlock suddenly turned her face away:

"look at me."

Ludwig just looked at him for two seconds, then turned his head sideways, and slowly closed his eyes.

In just a few seconds, she saw his eyes clearly - if possible, she never wanted to see such an expression on his face for the second time.

His eyes are the sea.

Today, the sea is broken.

But on the surface, her face is still calm, her eyes are still clear, without a trace of lust.

So Sherlock kissed her eyes.

As he kissed her butterfly-like eyelashes, he replaced his kiss with his fingers, repeating his previous actions.

The skill is unbelievably familiar.

However, no matter what he did, she still didn't open her eyes for him, nor did she respond in the slightest.

...even in dreams.

It seemed as if she was interacting with him, as if she accepted him completely, as if she never struggled... But if he really left her one day, she would just raise her eyes casually and smile at him.

Then...turn around and leave.

Then, never come back.

……

Dawn had come, the dream would pass, and he would wake soon.

...if it was a dream.

Sherlock grabbed her ankle, as if making up his mind, slowly folded her straight and slender legs to her side.

He leaned over and kissed the corner of her eye.

Then, bit by bit, bit by bit... his body sank.

His movements were extremely slow, but he couldn't refuse, as if he was feeling her soft body, her soft breath inch by inch... and under the layers of her fragrant breath, her hard heart was so indestructible.

Love, it's a scavenger hunt.

Emotionally, so is the body.

……

Ludwig raised his chin, as if it was in extreme pain, his fingers curled up because of the pain, and his nails were about to dig deep into his palm.

But he seemed to have expected her to do this long ago, and before she hurt himself, he had already inserted her finger between his fingers.

——Thus, the five fingers closely intersected.

"Open your eyes and look at me."

Ludwig turned his head, and Sherlock kissed the corner of her eyes:

"Vichy, open your eyes, look at me... look at me."

She buried half of her face in the pillow and remained silent, the corners of her eyes were already wet.

Sherlock didn't slow down because of the salty taste between his lips and teeth.

"My sanity is disappearing with you... When you die, it disappears."

He just held her fingers tightly and said softly:

"I've gone crazy...you know that?"

……

His tone was so calm.

It's like a person who has walked through the desert on foot, and then sees death with indifference.

...What hurt him so badly that this proud person had such a tone?

From last night, everything she experienced - pain, anxiety, fear, and... Guilt.

Finally came to my mind together.

Ludwig raised his face slightly, without looking for it, and easily touched Sherlock's lips kissing her.

— as if he had been waiting there all along.

As long as she turned her head a little bit, as long as she took that small step, she could find him, she could have him.

……

Sherlock was kissed by her, and there was a brief blank in his never-stop brain... This made his movements in her body pause for a moment.

The kiss was fleeting.

But she didn't leave after kissing her like she did when she kissed her for the first time. Instead, she bent her body, put her head on his shoulder, and said softly:

"sorry."