[Comprehensive] Mrs. Holmes Daily

Ludwig woke up in the dark, unable to tell where he was for a moment.

It's like walking through a tunnel with no end in sight, through a long and complicated sea of ​​dreams.

Suddenly surfaced, I don't know what night it is.

……

The courtyard of her house is still an old-fashioned courtyard, which is very large. The blood has withered for half a century, and most of the rooms are empty.

In the dream, the courtyard was filled with mist, and hydrangeas in early summer and camellias in winter bloomed at the same time.

She stood at the door of Grandpa's study, which was empty and empty.

She watched herself, walking down the long hallway, opening and closing the old-fashioned old doors one by one.

Inside every door, there is nothing.

But she started from the other end of the corridor again and again, opening and closing the door... After all the doors were opened, she went to the beginning again, and started again and again.

... What is she doing, what is she looking for?

... what am I doing, what am I looking for?

In a trance, she heard someone calling behind her, and above her head, the hydrangeas began to rain, and tiny drops of water flowed down from the purple or pink flower centers, and fell to her feet, gradually forming a small pool.

The call became louder and louder, and she suddenly turned around.

That's Le Shiwei... Le Shiwei?

No, that shouldn't be Le Shiwei, Le Shiwei will never have such a cool posture, nor will he have the romantic freehand brushwork like white snow on the high mountains in the distance.

Le Shiwei stood in front of her, indistinctly, shrouded in a hazy halo, unreal, as if it would disappear when the wind blows.

He smiled slightly:

"Under all these seemingly chaotic appearances, there are harsh rules hidden..."

His voice is low, like the tone of a string being pulled slowly, inexplicably familiar:

"If you come across it, then, remember—never touch it."

……

She woke up from the dream, only the light was still shining through the crack of the door, outside the curtains, it was already dark.

With her eyes open, she looked at the dark ceiling where Mrs. Hudson had wallpapered roses.

Thus, on the wall in the darkness, dark red flowers were half-opened and half-closed, the calyx was twisted to one side, and there were slender and enchanting corners of the eyes, and each flower was like red eyes.

——No, this dream is wrong.

Her thinking gradually became clear, but she felt that she was still in the deep fog in the courtyard.

In the dream, she stood at the door of Grandpa's study, watching herself push away those rooms beside the corridor.

——Why, she sees herself?

In her real home, that location is separated from the courtyard by a small building. From where she stands, the promenade should not be visible at all.

But in the dream, the small building disappeared completely, leaving only a hydrangea as tall as a person, blooming enthusiastically in spring or winter.

...it was just a dream.

She shook her head, shook off the weird feeling, climbed off the bed, barefoot, and pushed open the door of the room.

Outside the door, under the bright light, Sherlock was curling up in an armchair, reassembling some small parts on a black mobile phone.

His fingers were so dexterous that Ludwig couldn't even see how they moved.

The sweet aroma of toast and stale butter wafted in the room. It should be Mrs. Hudson's new dessert researched in the afternoon, and it was delivered just for Sherlock's picky mouth to help her taste it.

"Eleven hours and 37 minutes."

He heard the sound of the door opening, but did not lift his head:

"Subtract the arithmetic mean of the time spent in bed before going to bed and after waking up, and the light sleep time, and the remaining deep sleep time is at least eight and a half hours, which does not meet your usual sleep habits..."

He raised his head and frowned: "Did you have a nightmare?"

Ludwig Meiyu replied, rubbing his temples, his voice was still erratic: "Have you eaten yet?"

Hearing the familiar, Sherlock-style analysis, she finally woke up completely from that wet dreamland full of big hydrangeas.

But, why do I feel my head hurts more...

Well, she didn't want to know at all how Sherlock came up with "the arithmetic mean of the time she spends in bed each day before going to bed and after waking up".

As a roommate of Sherlock Holmes, she was already mentally prepared to be statistically analyzed by Sherlock 24 hours a day.

Sherlock is unimpressed by the question of eating, but is uncharacteristically obsessed with her nightmare:

"Of course I didn't eat... Did you have a nightmare? What kind of nightmare? I can help you with dream image analysis..."

He paused, his eyes resting on her bare feet.

The toes are white and very soft.

The nails were cleanly clipped and painted with bright, dazzling red nail polish.

He looked at those feet stepping directly on the cold dark red wooden floor, and said lightly:

"You have no shoes on."

"Oh."

Ludwig put on his slippers nonchalantly.

"In the evening...no, what's for supper?"

Standing by the sink, she took out a rag to dry the water on the sink, and took out cumin powder from several small enamel jars of different colors in the cabinet.

Behind her, Sherlock watched her movements without blinking:

"You were going to make dinner, but you wiped off the water on the pool ahead of time. This is a subconscious action. Your fingers paused on the purple bottle. This is a delayed reaction from the dream..."

He narrowed his eyes:

"You dreamed of water... floods? Rivers? No, rain, purple images... Eggplants? Buns? Flowers? Oh, Vichy."

He jumped down from the armchair, walked behind Ludwig, put his hand on her shoulder, and patted her tense shoulder lightly:

"Relax, you are deliberately misleading me with wrong information, don't resist me, because only from the true reflection of your body can I read your mind."

Then, he frowned deeply and said affirmatively:

"Flowers on rainy days, houses, long corridors or passages...The passage is a symbol of the matrix and return. People return to the matrix when they are extremely confused and insecure-what did the cafe owner tell you?"

Ludwig almost put the bowl in his hand on his head.

Relax, relax and be his guinea pig?

It hurts to be so impulsive just after waking up, calm, calm.

When she turned around, she met Sherlock's penetrating eyes, which seemed to see through everything.

Ludwig immediately lowered his eyes to avoid eye contact with him, and then touched a plate from behind to block his face:

"You mean, let me give up resistance, obediently expose my brain, and then let you come in swaggeringly? Sir, you are too real."

She took down the plate with clear eyes:

"Please look for the test subjects on the street. You stand at the crossroads and smile. I guarantee that there will be a large number of people lining up to find you...but I will never."

Sherlock's hand, as she turned, slipped from her shoulder.

"This is not an experiment."

He watched her slip past him with the coffee pot, pouring the coffee beans into the filter bag.

"what is that?"

He stared at her face and was silent for a while:

"I can't explain it to you now...it's not yet time."

"Then I hope it never gets to that time."

He was leaning against the kitchen, with a leisurely and casual posture, behind him was a small dark red bar, and the plates painted with blue branches were neatly displayed.

There are three small lamps hanging from the dome hanging from high to low.

The milky white light, like milk, sprinkled evenly on the man's curly black hair.

Ludwig turned around and saw this scene.

The man in the white shirt was so neat that he was only short of wearing a bow tie. It complemented the homely atmosphere, and it was surprisingly harmonious.

She froze for a moment, then turned her head: "You are affecting me by standing here, can't you move a position? Or do you want to continue your psychoanalysis?"

"I thought that in your world, the ability to accurately guess people's hearts is called 'understanding'... Please add two-fifths of the coffee beans, thank you."

Ludwig paused, poured out some coffee beans that had been put into the coffee pot, and said sarcastically:

"...Then you are really the most understanding person in the world, not one of them."

Sherlock pursed his lips and did not speak any more. He took out a mobile phone from his trousers pocket, stretched out his hand, and the black mobile phone slipped from his pale and slender fingers into Ludwig's pocket:

Ludwig turned on the coffee pot switch: "Why did you leave your mobile phone with me?"

"It's your mobile phone—the butler sent it over eleven hours ago. I have modified it. Its signal transmission system can directly contact the security firewall of Holmes's house and trigger an alarm. Moreover, its signal does not pass through any communication company. The company just borrowed their signal towers as an information transfer station..."

He smiled slightly:

"...This means that your communication records will not be recorded by any agency, nor will it be monitored by any government."

Ludwig glanced at him knowingly: "The program you changed?"

He raised the corner of his mouth: "Of course."

"Oh."

He looked at Ludwig's indifferent reaction, curled his lips:

"This is not the response I deserved after working for an hour..."

Ludwig put two spoonfuls of sugar in the two cups, the first cup was put casually, and the second cup, she took out a measuring spoon with a scale.

Sherlock has high requirements for the amount of all seasonings. If the amount of sugar exceeds his allowable range, he will take a sip, put the coffee cup aside calmly, and never touch it again.

But more often, he puts down his coffee cup and calls out to her in a drawn-out tone: "Oh, Vichy, there's more sugar...thanks."

……

Not wanting to bother again, she carefully measured the volume of sugar with her eyes:

"Because I don't care about these functions. Compared with these, I care more about...Why do I have the same phone as you? Even the color is the same, how to distinguish?"

"Obviously they are different. There is a [-]mm scratch on the side of my phone, which was accidentally scratched by a stone on the ground while dodging bullets in Greenland a year ago."

Greenland...who is so bored to go to a gunfight in such a cold place?Can the gun fire?

Ludwig: "Scratches of [-] millimeters... Do you think I'm the pocket magnifying glass you carry around in your pocket?"

Sherlock's tone was light: "This is one of your many shortcomings - it's too big to carry around."

It's a good thing that she isn't small enough to fit in a pocket, otherwise would she be able to carry it around at his disposal?Mr. Holmes is so naive.

Sherlock continued: "According to the length of your fingers, I set the S key as my shortcut key. In case of emergency, just press this key to contact me directly."

Ludwig took the phone out of his pocket and pressed it.

Sherlock's pocket vibrated immediately, before he moved, Ludwig's phone had already indicated that it was connected.

He took it out and looked at it blankly: "I apply to hang up."

"So, as long as I press this button to call you, you can connect directly without pressing the answer button?"

Sherlock turned to look at the rows of plates:

"Not only that, in view of some dangerous situations, if I don't have time to answer, the system will automatically record all the sounds around you after it is automatically connected - the sound of wind, water flow, dog barking, people's conversations, and signal failure. The noise when it stabilizes—all of these are important clues.”

"There is no recording interface on my phone... So this is your unilateral recording of my voice? Even though I took the initiative to ask you to record it, it still feels weird."

Ludwig frowned:

"Besides, why did I call you? I think it's safer to call Scotland Yard directly. After all, they can dispatch staff directly."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes dangerously: "You think they'll move faster than me?"

"I didn't mean to question your ability. It's just that every small town in England has a police station, but not every small town has a Sherlock."

"Even so, I'm faster than them."

Ludwig didn't want to argue with him: "...is this all function?"

Sherlock said casually:

"That's it...mostly, and a few trivial features that are too time-consuming to talk about."

She stopped what she was doing.

Squinting his eyes, he stared at him for two seconds, then took the phone from Sherlock's hand.

"Although your expression is flawless, I don't believe you."