[Comprehensive] Mrs. Holmes Daily

Ludwig stood up from the drawer, holding An He's ashes in his palm.

She walked to the cabinet with the Mediterranean navigation chart, stared at the fake on the cabinet for a few seconds, and finally stretched out her hand.

The fake ones were taken down.

Really get put on.

A train is going to a distant place, there may be no passengers, no crew members...but there must be a train conductor who sounds the first whistle when the train starts.

She wanted to leave, but she firmly believed that she was not neurotic, but she didn't want to be forced to take medicine like a person who lost her sound personality... But, she was still sinking in the lie she made for herself, unable to get out.

But now, her illness is cured, and her dream has woken up.

Then this ring...

Ludwig stood in front of the window, throwing his hand lightly.

The identical counterfeit ring in her hand slipped out of her palm following her movements, and flew towards the middle of the road along a beautiful parabola.

A small delivery truck drove by the park's center road, and the ring clanged on its red tin.

The driver didn't notice, the truck roared, carrying the last key for her to return to a normal life, and went to a place she didn't know.

I don't know where I went anymore.

……

Sherlock is so smart.Sometimes this cleverness is creepy.

She often felt that Sherlock already knew all that she thought she was protecting.

If he didn't say anything, it might be because the time has not come, or it might be because of his politeness.

But she made too much of a move today, even if Sherlock didn't know it before, he should know it today... Yes, she wanted to leave forever.

——Hey, as soon as she threw the ring and broke her back, she began to regret how she broke it.

Ludwig picked up her clothes that were scattered on the floor, and was about to take off the sheets, so that they could be sent to the dry cleaners together, but suddenly found...the sheets were different.

The pattern is still white apricot flowers, there is nothing wrong with it, the black ink marks she accidentally scratched with a pen on the binding of the bed sheet are still there, and the creases on the bed sheet are also completely consistent.

Sherlock's conscience took her sheets to dry cleaning?

No, it's better to believe that Sherlock and Mycroft are together... Oh, that's not okay, Mycroft is getting married, and the bride is only 1.6 meters tall, so it can't be Sherlock.

There must be something wrong with this sheet, though.

Ludwig unwrapped the inner layer of the sheet.

One corner of the sheet had somehow unraveled, so she needed two stitches.

She looked carefully along the stitches... She had a good memory, and she was almost sure that this layer of stitches was exactly the same as the one she had sewed before, even the angle of each stitch was imitated.

That's right... imitation.

Stitches can be imitated, but there is no way to make them exactly the same as the last robbery.

Ludwig narrowed her eyes...someone stole her sheets.

……

Across the wall, Sherlock was sitting on the sofa in the temporary office of Scotland Yard and the emergency meeting room of the British government, with his feet resting on the coffee table, but he did not damage his aristocratic image in the slightest.

He stared at the ring silently.

Suddenly, with a twist of his finger, the ring disappeared from his fingertip as if by magic.

It was a little trick he practiced for his proposal, recommended by Mrs. Hudson.

……

Her vows are the strongest shackles in the world.

And he had to put the shackles around her own neck and take the key.

He turned his fingers deftly again, and the ring reappeared on his fingertips.

because……

His Miss Ludwig really likes to run around too much.

……

Just as he was looking at the ring in thought, there was a slight sound of a chain coming from Ludwig's door... She locked it, opened the drawer, and closed it again.

She thought he couldn't hear these voices.

He couldn't hear it either.

But it's just that he can't hear it with his ears, he can hear everything on the coffee table under his feet.

Sherlock tapped the ring with his index finger.

His shoes were placed on the coffee table, and there was a subtle vibration coming from under his feet.

Solid-state sound transmission is several times more sensitive than air-borne sound transmission.

Just a piece of brass pipe that runs from her room to the end table and Mrs. Hodson's insulation will provide high fidelity for solid-state sound--he spent all day sawing violin wood to get Mrs. Hodson to do the insulation .

Different materials and different tones will have different amplitudes and frequencies, and this involves complex calculation formulas.

As long as he mastered the rules, he could hear everything.

……

When Ludwig opened the door, he saw Sherlock calmly put a gadget in his hand back into his pants pocket.

She didn't care either, she leaned against the door and said:

"Sir, do you know where my sheets have gone?"

Sherlock looked at the phone and said casually:

"Obviously your sheets are still on the bed."

"No, that's not my bed sheet."

Ludwig crossed his arms and leaned to one side:

"Someone stole it and replaced it with an identical one."

"Stole it?"

Sherlock frowned:

"Who?"

"you."

Look at his innocent expression...why doesn't her husband challenge Oscar?

"You replaced it."

Sherlock's tone was still casual:

"why me?"

"Because it's the first time you do. Love using sheets, and you have a penchant for collecting memorabilia."

Ludwig smiled:

"Don't forget, your drawers are full of mementos from every case you've taken."

"Oh, Vichy, I'm not talking about probabilities, I'm talking about evidence."

Sherlock raised his head and smiled at her:

"If we talk about possibility, then it is possible for everyone who has been in this room, me, Lestrade, Mycroft, Donovans, Anxi..."

Ludwig: "...Did Britain move its summit room here while I slept? And who is Donovans?"

"Oh, is your memory fading? Vichy, Donovans was still there when you recklessly broke into the underground casino."

Ludwig: "..."

That's Donovan, sir.

Sherlock had probably got the name of poor Miss Donovan out of his mind.

Or never remember.

While continuing to look at the phone, Sherlock analyzed the case as he usually does:

"Of course, it doesn't rule out that you have collected this bed sheet but want to prove your innocence by framing me. After all, this is also the bed sheet you used when you had sex for the first time. Statistics show that women usually value virginity more than men. This is the influence of Christianity, sex is original sin, especially for women..."

"..."

Why does taking a bed sheet involve Christianity?

Ludwig covered his forehead and interrupted him firmly:

"Hand over the sheets."

It would be too embarrassing for such a bed sheet to be placed in someone else's hands.

"I can't do that because there is no real evidence that the sheets are with me and I haven't even left the door of Baker Street for two days."

He frowned, as if he was dissatisfied with her attitude of casually convicting:

"Oh, Vichy, be serious about the case. If you are in power in Great Britain, I can guarantee that the number of wronged prisons in British prisons will rise to more than half. Then the French media will take advantage of the vacancy to oppose our tariff agreement with human rights issues, and once the tariff changes, Spain will stop buying Russian oil and cause the oil price in the Middle East to rise..."

His fingers tapped on the coffee table:

"War is on the verge of breaking out."

Ludwig: "..."

She now believed that Mycroft and Sherlock were brothers.

She just wants her sheets back and there's a war in the Middle East over it... She's too cool to be friends with.

"Okay, okay, I don't want the sheets."

She cut Sherlock off before he could continue his rhetoric on the war, lifting her jaw like a queen:

"Since you are sincere, I allow you to collect it."

That expression was like saying——

"You fish-lipped human."

"..."

For the first time in his life, he was regarded as a stupid human being... no, it was Sherlock who was regarded as a human being for the first time in his life:

"Until you present solid evidence, I refuse to be convicted."

"I will not go beyond my means to seek evidence against Holmes."

Ludwig stood by the table, poured himself a glass of water, and handed another glass to Sherlock:

"I'm living a good life, why should I humiliate myself?"

Sherlock took the cup, his gaze comparable to gamma rays flicked across Ludwig's face.

—she was lying again.

She has never been afraid of comparing IQ with him, and she has endless tricks against him.

She is probably very unaccustomed to the fact that two people stay under the same roof, but the other has a higher IQ than herself, which can be seen from her faster and faster reading speed.

——People who are not willing to be left behind by nature grow up like wheat seedlings heading to the ears every day.

His little girlfriend will become more and more intelligent.

……

Sherlock held the cup and smiled:

"If you don't try, how do you know you can't find my flaws?"

Ludwig narrowed his eyes:

"Is this testing me?"

"It's not a test, it's just a logic exercise."

Logic exercise?

Ludwig suddenly smiled.

She came over slowly and sat on his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"So, I got the answer right, what's the reward?"

She bent down, one bare leg bent beside him, her long hair fell on his face, her delicate collarbone was exposed from her shirt, and there was a small depression in the middle.

Slender fingers slowly caressed the corner of his mouth.

Then it slipped down his shirt and down his waist.

Beautiful scenery.

She was teasing, no doubt about it.

"Reward, sir?"

"..."

When a woman is teasing you, she's looking for a reward...it's pretty clear what she wants.

Sherlock stared at her without moving.

Apart from the unpredictable eyes, Sherlock's meekness at the moment almost blinded Mycroft's dog eyes in front of the screen.

That's right, it's docile.

His aloof brother's current behavior is almost like saying - "Miss Ludwig, please do whatever you want."

But Sherlock obviously didn't intend to be so spineless.

He just acquiesced to Ludwig's invasion of his territory without any struggle, and lightly pursed his lips, saying:

"Rewards, you have the final say."

... Well, the meaning of this sentence is no different from "do whatever you want".

"Then I just said it?"

Ludwig raised his legs slightly, so that the whole person seemed to be sitting on Sherlock's waist.

The loose white shirt covered her body, and her voice was as soft as a whisper.

"When you asked me to "find your flaws", you have already exposed your flaws, because you have flaws to find flaws... Is this you deliberately reminding me to lower the difficulty for me?"

Her fingers moved on his chest, icy and cold, like a poisonous snake.

Sherlock stared at her:

"What if I say yes?"

"Then I can only express my gratitude."

She moved forward a little bit, and the curve covered by the white shirt lifted up a little bit with her movement...but it was only a little bit, and she didn't reveal anything.

Ludwig slowly leaned over and kissed the corner of his lips.

She leaned against his lips and said:

"Your weakness lies in the order in which you reported the names of the people who visited Baker Street... You put Lestrade before Mycroft, which is unusual."

She took Sherlock's hand and pressed it to her cheek...she was in complete control of the situation.

Of course, this is with Sherlock's acquiescence.

"Let me take a guess, the sheets need some chemical treatment because of the blood stains on them, you can't hide the sheets at home because I will find out, you usually dispose of dead bodies at Madam Molly-Amber, she has everything you need Medicine, and it happens to be Lestrade's colleague..."

She took Sherlock's hand and slowly slid it down to her neck.

She closed her eyes and raised her chin slowly.

So her fragile neck was completely exposed in front of him.

White, slender, graceful as a swan.

Her eyelashes trembled, and she leaned slightly on his body, looking extremely obedient under his fingers, enjoying his touch.

"Of course you didn't say the sheet was mine, you just sealed it up in the evidence bag and got Lestrade to take it to Lady Molly Amber... didn't you?"

His fingers slipped from her neck down her collarbone.

"...Basically correct."

In this case, incorrect also becomes correct.

Sherlock stared intently at her face, showing no sign of taking the initiative, although her movements were slow as torture - and he had to keep his cool under this torture.

Holmes abides by his promise, he "you have the final say", that is "you have the final say".

"So what reward do you want?"

Ludwig's hand stopped.

She suddenly bent her mouth.

That's not a lover's smile.

That was cunning, the little fox smiled after he succeeded in his trick.

A bad premonition rose in Sherlock's heart.

Sure enough, the next moment, his little girlfriend climbed off him without any hesitation, and the previous tender expression disappeared in an instant:

"So……"

She jumped off the sofa, her hair and shirt were slightly messed up, but her expression was frank, as if she wasn't the one who gave him a hand before.

Ludwig smiled innocently at him:

"Please don't be careless about booking dinner for this week."

Sherlock: "..."