[Comprehensive] Mrs. Holmes Daily

London, seven thirty in the morning.

From the east coast of the ocean, the sun begins to visit this ancient European continent.

The Egyptian sun god Amon-Ra and the three Greek and Roman sun gods walked across the sky at the same time, but unfortunately crashed into a car, and they were thrown off their feet.

So today, London is overcast.

It doesn't matter, what matters is - Buckingham Palace is back to work.

Mycroft walked into his office and didn't sleep the whole morning as Anthea had imagined. Although the dose had been achieved, it was obvious that the Holmes family was full of energy and very human.

Anthea walked in right after him, holding a computer and continuing to deal with her urgent mission—the boss' brother sleeping in a corner of the office.

I usually feel cold, looking at you is like looking at the boss brother of a goldfish. When facing his little girlfriend, he definitely experienced a complete metamorphosis. Now, the daily life on Baker Street is simply sweet and blinding.

So it's a very dangerous job.

Anthea thought calmly——

Isn't the boss afraid that she will fall in love with Sherlock and then stretch out the claws of sibling love?

Mycroft sat at his desk as usual, and randomly took out a copy from the pile of documents:

"Don't be stupid, Anderson, even if you take off your clothes and do a pole dance in front of Sherlock, he won't be interested in you... I have sent at least a dozen women above F to seduce him, but Without exception, they returned home without a feather.”

Without looking at Anthea, he added:

"Let's not talk about you, Anderson, he's not interested in men."

Anthea was silent for a while: "...I am a woman, boss." And I have worked with you for three years.

Mycroft didn't even look at her, but said flatly:

"is it?"

"No no no, of course not."

Anthea immediately changed her position wittily, and found a perfect step for the boss's rare selective amnesia in terms of names and genders.

She said seriously:

"Ever since I had sex reassignment surgery, I often see myself as a woman."

……

"Gender does require adaptation."

Mycroft opened the chair and sat down, took out his unique pen from his jacket pocket, and lazily wrote a sentence on the document——

All wedding procedures are prepared according to royal standards.

"Is Sherlock awake?"

"The Baker Street automatic blocking device is activated and I'm trying to crack the code."

Anthea tapped her fingers quickly on the keyboard.

She suddenly frowned:

"Boss, I can't find the video from last night."

"It's not surprising."

He pondered for a while, and added another sentence - the wedding dress was custom-made from France.

"The combined IQ of all of you can't compare to Sherlock's anti-reconnaissance ability. It's normal to be blocked by his prior procedures."

"No, boss, it's not a unilateral program blocking... Our monitors are always on. If Baker Street activates the anti-reconnaissance program, it will be displayed on our side."

Anthea's hand touched her BlackBerry phone subconsciously:

"But there's nothing here... It's as if someone turned off the monitor on our side last night."

"Impossible, at least last night, no one in the world can crack my office security measures."

Because Sherlock fell asleep last night.

"Don't make a fuss, this is probably a new game invented by my dear brother."

Mycroft went on to write the list of wedding items:

"Is the video from this morning still there?"

"exist."

The pen in Mycroft's hand paused invisibly—the evening video was blocked by Sherlock, but the morning video is still there?

Did he turn off the anti-spy software again after waking up in the morning?Oh, it's not his brother's style.

"Since when?"

"Ten past six in the morning."

Mycroft wrote:

"open to take a look."

"Yes."

Anthea turned on the video at [-]:[-] this morning.

In her original prediction, at most she thought that what she would see would still be the picture of Mr. Holmes sleeping with Miss Ludwig's corpse in his arms.

but……

"Bo...boss."

Anthea stared at the video on the computer, her mouth unable to close in shock.

Mycroft said flatly:

"Anderson, if you have to wait for me to ask you every time you report something, then I'm afraid I'll have to fire you."

"Oh my god."

Anthea didn't seem to notice what Mycroft said at all, she still stared at the computer:

"Mr. Holmes is sleeping with . . . Lu, Miss Ludwig."

Her exact phrase was "sleep with".

The expression has multiple meanings, ranging from simply "sleeping with someone" to...you get the idea.

So Mycroft simply thought about how the bride would appear at the wedding... Although it was impossible for the bride to appear, he always pursued perfection.

"Obviously, the two of them slept together last night... Sherlock fell asleep with her body in his arms."

"No, boss."

Anthea murmured sleepwalkingly:

"Mr. Holmes, you are raping Ludwig..."

——"呵啦".

Mycroft's solid gold nib pokes a hole in acid-free paper that lasts 200 years.

He raised his head expressionlessly:

"...to rape a corpse?"

"... rape people."

Anthea said in a daze:

"At least... this corpse can move."

Mycroft walked quickly to Anthea's side and pulled the computer out of her hand.

But he only glanced at it, and quickly closed the computer.

Then he turned his head and said to Anthea in a soft tone:

"Where did you see it?"

Anthea is still in a trance:

"Mr. Holmes tore off Miss Ludwig's clothes."

"Currently?"

"No, just finished tearing it up."

"very good."

Mycroft tapped the table with his fingers, his eyes were unprecedentedly dignified:

"Immediately notify all the scientific researchers in the laboratory to gather for a meeting, and help me arrange a time to go to Baker Street. In addition..."

He strode out of the office and picked up his long black umbrella:

"...remember to scoop out your eyeballs and put them in a box on my desk before you leave work."

Mycroft didn't stop:

"A friendly reminder, don't tell anyone that I've seen this video... Otherwise, I'm afraid I'll have to accept your tongue, Mr. Anderson."

Anthea who was instantly pulled back from the trance state to the normal cruel world:

"..."

Well, none of the above matters.

The most important thing is... Regardless of whether the sun shines on the earth or not, the biological clock of the ancient European continent has also awakened.

In other words... the dream woke up.

221b Baker Street.

After waking up from the dream, Mr. Sherlock Holmes was lying on a printed sheet that did not match his temperament, with his head half supported, looking at his peacefully sleeping little girlfriend without blinking.

She had slept for a full ten hours, so he also waited here in this posture for a full ten hours—no experiments, no cases to think about, and he waited for her to wake up with great patience.

She is only obedient when she is asleep.

Once she wakes up, she will be full of all kinds of "own ideas".

Sherlock didn't look at his watch, but he knew exactly... 3 minutes were up.

He gently put his finger under her nose to make sure she was still breathing, every 3 minutes.

——After experiencing her death, as long as he didn't hear her voice or confirm her breath for a few minutes, he would fall into an uncontrollable panic.

The sun rose, was covered by clouds, and now it has set.

it's already night

No matter how long the dream is, it's time to wake up.

But she hasn't disappeared yet, she's still breathing, her eyelashes are still fluttering uncomfortably in her sleep...she's alive, there's no doubt about it.

How is this going?

She was obviously dead, but she came back to life in the sunshine.

The screen of the phone turned on, but there was no sound - for the first time in his life, he turned the phone to silent.

The text was from Mycroft, who was visibly exasperated, though his words were still elegant and polite:

"Sincerely visiting, maybe you should open the door for me, Sherlock. mh"

Sherlock frowned, clearly disliking Mycroft's interrupting text messages at this moment:

"Please do as you please. sh" If he can open the 23 small traps he set up.

When he found himself waking up without his little girlfriend evaporating in the sun like morning dew, he realized that he needed a little protection in case his overly political brother His little girlfriend was locked up as the latest biochemical weapon.

Mycroft always managed to open his trap eventually, but at least not now.

His movement was extremely slight, but Ludwig was still awakened.

She habitually stretched out her arms, trying to reach the alarm clock on the side to check the time, but forgot that a bone was broken in her shoulder.

Sherlock grabs her wrist just in time, before she hurts himself with the movement:

"It's 25:[-] in the afternoon, according to your habit, it's not accurate to the second... What else do you want?"

Ludwig withdrew his hand, only feeling pain all over his body.

"How long have I slept?"

"Ten hours and five minutes."

Ten hours and five minutes.

It is now 25:[-] in the afternoon, minus the ten hours and five minutes she slept soundly... In other words, she didn't go to sleep until around eight o'clock this morning...

In other words, Sherlock tossed her for two hours...

two hours...

two hours...

No wonder she slept for so long, but her mental state was much worse than when she woke up in the morning, and her whole body was in pain.

"You're a rapist, sir."

Ludwig closed his eyes, not wanting to open them at all:

"Get out of my bed, I don't want to be with you."

"With all due respect, only the beginning can be called 'rape.rape', and the latter... at most it can be called 'he.rape'."

Sherlock said calmly, his eyes still staring at her for a moment, as if she would disappear in the next second:

"How do you feel now? Headache? Chest tightness? Where else do you feel unwell? Would you like some water?"

"..."

Ludwig was silent for a while:

"You're possessed again...so it's different after sleeping, huh?"

Sherlock: "..."

"I don't feel well anywhere."

Her eyes are closed, and her voice is a little weak and hoarse - the sequelae of lung choking:

"And rape? I didn't ask you to play those tricks, but you actually tied my hands with a shirt behind you... Do you think you are playing "The Fauvism"? Don't quibble, you are rape."

"..."

Well, he did go too far behind.

When his little girlfriend voluntarily climbed onto his neck and kissed him, he completely lost his mind because of her response.

Then, it got out of hand.

……

Carefully avoiding the wounds on her body, Sherlock held her in his arms:

"Just make it my fault."

Ludwig did not refuse:

"It was your fault."

"..."

He reluctantly said:

"Just pretend it was my fault."

"So we're even."

Sherlock frowned: "Equal?"

"I lied to you, but you became a rapist... We are even, and you are not allowed to use me to abandon you as a condition to ask me to promise you anything."

Sherlock hugged her, was silent for a long time, and then said softly:

"It's not even, Vichy."

He tightened his arms:

"I acted violently because I thought you were dead... I thought I was dreaming, and the you in the dream would not be injured, nor would you die a second time."

"die?"

Ludwig raised his eyes, as if he couldn't understand Sherlock's words:

"I am dead?"

"Of course, your heart stopped beating, and your brain waves disappeared."

Sherlock looked into her eyes...she was a small ball in his arms, and seemed to fall apart when squeezed:

"You do not know?"

Her heart stopped beating?

No wonder he was so out of control.

"I don't know, I have no memory, my last memory is the part when I shot at you."

Ludwig thought for a while, and found that Sherlock didn't respond to her, so he raised his face:

"gentlemen?"

Sherlock was staring at her with calm eyes, but... the feeling of being out of control and frightening her reappeared.

She had felt the same way when she was arguing with Sherlock about peace.

"If you dare to point your gun at me next time, no matter what your reason or purpose is."

Sherlock said quietly:

"Then I can only promise you...the consequences will be much more serious than today."

"...I will pay attention."

In the face of the obvious danger, Ludwig expressed his sensibility:

"There will be nothing in the back. When I wake up again, I find myself standing by the window, and the sun is rising..."

Sherlock freed a hand in the half-blind light and turned on the desk lamp:

"How did you wake up?"

"I feel the sun on my eyes."

"Where's the ring?"

"Isn't that what you put on me?"

Ludwig raised his hand.

Even with the charred fingertips, the hand was still fine and slender in the light—except for the ugly, black stone ring that was obtrusive.

"I woke up and it was on my finger."

Sherlock stared at the ring without saying a word.

He turned around in his mind all kinds of ways to get her to take off the ring, but he rejected them without exception.

—he dared not let her take off the ring.

Because he is afraid.

What is happening now has far exceeded his cognition... The physiological limit of a person can really wake up to life a few hours after death?

"How long have I been dead?"

Sherlock hugged her waist and whispered:

"Not long... just a few minutes."

"A few minutes? That's not easy."

Ludwig closed his eyes in his arms and smiled:

"No matter what happened before...now, please call me a miracle."

Sherlock stared at her for a long time in the dim light before gently hugging her tightly:

"Well...you are a miracle."