[Comprehensive] Mrs. Holmes Daily

The girl below had long black hair spread loosely on the crimson printed sofa cushions, her eyes slightly widened because of this sudden situation.

Her thin shoulders are just beside his palm, as long as he moves slightly, he can completely embrace her in his arms.

——"If the person who said these words to you is someone you like so much that you can't extricate yourself... you will really want to hold the person in front of you in your arms, crush them, and then kiss them hard...forever."

……Inextricable.

Beneath his calm gray eyes, in unfathomably deeper depths that no one has ever explored, there are dangerous ripples.

Ludwig froze for a long time before reacting slowly: "Huh?"

Don't blame her for being late.

Although she could throw Sherlock down on the sofa without any burden, she couldn't stand the wrong posture now.

At least she should be at the top and Sherlock at the bottom, so she can control the overall situation. This kind of posture of men on top and women on bottom cannot look directly...

He was too close, the penetrating and focused gaze, once in close contact, the originally intangible gaze seemed to turn into substance, pressing heavily on her chest, making her breathless.

And Sherlock's hand was still behind her back.

It should have been put there to protect her when she was torn off.

No, none of this matters...

Who can tell her, now... what's going on now?

Ludwig blinked and turned his head uncomfortably, but found that she had no room to move.

To the left... that's Sherlock's arm.

To the right... Forget it, Sherlock's face is bent there, what is she doing turning around?kiss it?

If she was facing a strange man at the moment, she might consider turning her face away, rubbing the tip of the nose that was as tall as a Greek sculpture, and giving him a gentle French kiss by the way.

Anyone is fine, but not Sherlock Holmes, not even thinking about that scene in your head.

...Because I can't think of it at all, just like she deeply admires Aristotle, one day, she is lucky enough to meet this god-like figure, and she doesn't dare to post a post like meeting ordinary Europeans face ceremony.

And now, not to mention the close kiss, she could even feel the tip of his cold nose gently rubbing against her cheek, and his warm breath blowing the fine hairs on her face one after another.

She had no choice but to raise her face:

"Shall we discuss it?"

She said cautiously:

"I don't care about you installing a wiretapping program on my phone... Correspondingly, you don't care about my harmless pranks anymore, okay?"

As she raised her face slightly, her fair, swan-like neck was revealed.

The delicate collarbone was also pulled, protruding from the collar of the plaid shirt.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes, eyes darkened.

His eyes were fixed on her chin, and his tone was soft: "The former one is reluctantly accepted, but the latter one, I don't accept."

"That's because you've always used me as a shield, and I just reciprocate occasionally..."

She struggled hard, but Sherlock's arm was like steel, motionless, and he didn't even use extra strength to struggle against her needle.

She tried her best to resist, to him, it was so small that it could be ignored

...How on earth did she throw Sherlock onto the sofa so easily?

Sherlock's arms were loosely wrapped around her, staring deeply into her eyes.

He said lightly: "You mean, I can do this more... How many times do you exchange courtesy?"

If what happened was a revolving lantern theater, Ludwig would definitely cut out all those scenes of her throwing Sherlock over her own strength, and start over.

... self-inflicted, can not live.

Probably at this moment, Sherlock felt too dangerous to her, and Ludwig felt that his IQ had dropped.

Because she suddenly stretched out a hand and pointed out the window: "Airplane!"

"Then this plane is likely to crash, because there is no airport nearby, and there is no square where you can make a forced landing—your delusional symptoms are getting worse."

His tone was light, but his eyes didn't look out of the window.

He only noticed the earrings on the small ear in front of him.

Even if one was lost, she still wore the dark green jadeite earrings on her ears.

Emeralds the size of rice grains were gathered into small circles and adorned on her ears, becoming the only color on that slightly pale complexion.

— This is her law.

Whenever she wears red nail polish, she will definitely wear this pair of dark green stud earrings.

A preference for strongly contrasting colors, meaning...

He narrowed his eyes.

Ludwig raised his face, with the soft sofa behind him, and Sherlock in front.

Something cold fell on his chin, it was Sherlock's curly black hair.

She blinked again and turned her head decisively.

But I saw red light dots flashing on the black lacquered glass.

With no time to react, she hugged Sherlock tightly with both hands, and fell to the side.

"gun!"

And Sherlock moved faster than her. When she tried to hug him, he had already hugged her with his backhand and rolled under the sofa.

"boom!"

There was the sound of glass shattering, and the bullet narrowly grazed Sherlock's hair, hitting the master light switch directly opposite the sofa.

The entire living room was suddenly plunged into darkness.

In the next second, the window burst open, and the shards of glass, like flowers blooming in the black night, slanted down from the night and exploded suddenly.

The shiny fragments fell on her side and fell on Sherlock.

She was held tightly in Sherlock's arms, with the cold floor behind her, but she didn't feel any pain from the collision.

Sherlock's hand rests behind her.

His body stood in front of her.

She was unharmed, and he...

She ignored the glass shards in Sherlock's hair, held his head, from the back of his head, stroked his back, and then his hard and broad chest:

"How are you, are you still alive? Are you okay? Are you injured?..."

The touch under the hand is dry, without the sticky feeling of blood.

She seemed to be exhausted, and let out a long breath:

"Fortunately, everything is fine."

Turning his head, he saw Sherlock, in the darkness, in a messy living room, his eyes were like shining gems, staring at her without blinking.

When Sherlock stares at you, his gaze becomes a water prison, with water pouring towards her from all directions.

It was so turbulent that she could only avoid it from a distance, so as not to drown in the lake of his eyes.

She moved uneasily, turned her face away: "Will anyone still shoot?"

"will not."

He maintains a pressing stance, like he's the bee and she's got sugar on her face.

"But... now, plug my ears."

what?

She was puzzled in her heart, but without any hesitation in her hands, she tightly covered Sherlock's ears.

At the same time, Sherlock held her tightly.

Then, there was... a huge explosion.

The whole world was shaking, the floorboards were crumbling and whining, about to break.

The dust from the ceiling fell down, she closed her eyes tightly, covered Sherlock's ears with her hands, and curled up in Sherlock's arms.

It may be just a few seconds, it may be a few minutes, or it may be a long hour.

She didn't realize until Sherlock started slapping her cheek that the blast had passed.

And the vibration finally gradually stopped.

There was a buzzing in the ears, like a thousand ducks talking loudly, Ludwig watched Sherlock's mouth open and close, but couldn't hear the sound.

"Vichy? Vichy? Can you hear me?"

He picked her up horizontally, walked through the collapsed door, and gently placed her on the only intact bed in her room in the entire living room.

"Can you hear me, Vichy?"

Ludwig struggled to distinguish the disorganized voices in his ears, trying to find Sherlock's voice from the disorganized noises.

His voice seemed to come from a distant valley, with echoes.

"Relax, this is only temporary ear nerve damage, look at me... look at me."

"..."

He put his hand on her face and frowned deeply.

No one has ever been able to shake his calm.

But at this moment, Ludwig actually saw a bit of uneasiness and... nervousness in his eyes?

"Look at me, Vichy? Can you hear me now?"

Ludwig grabbed his wrist:

"Stop shooting, I heard you."

She reached out and rubbed her ears, and said slowly, her voice was as thin as a mosquito:

"It's just that I still can't hear clearly...don't talk, let me slow down."

Sherlock let go of her hand and stared at her for a few seconds.

After confirming that she was indeed completely fine, he sat down on the bed next to her.

"Your reaction is too slow."

After a while, he said calmly, turned his back to Ludwig, and waved his hands in confusion:

"If you were on the battlefield, you would have died a thousand times just now."

Ludwig ignored him, lying on the bed, slowly calming down his heartbeat and breathing.

Then, as if she suddenly remembered something, she sat up from the bed.

"What are you going to do?"

"A gift from Erich."

She didn't know where her slippers were, she didn't have time to look for them, and she didn't have time to see Sherlock's expression, so she jumped out of bed with bare feet.

"I left it by the door without opening it... The door was blown up, where are the presents?"

Standing on tiptoe, she looked around over the dust and glass shards on the ground, until she saw that under the collapsed door, the packaging on the small box was intact, and she subconsciously let out a sigh of relief.

The door fell back against the cabinet, creating just enough space for Erich's gift to be kept safe.

But before she walked over to pick up the gift, she was hugged and thrown away mercilessly.

...That's right, it was thrown, she was thrown directly onto the soft quilt by Sherlock.

"Need I remind you how many species of anaerobic bacteria are in the shards of glass on the ground?"

Sherlock was sitting on the edge of the bed against the light, Ludwig could not see his face clearly, he could only hear him say in a deep voice:

"Even in deep human wounds, they can reproduce unscrupulously, produce toxins, and cause specific paroxysmal muscle spasm infections..."

"You could actually just say you've got tetanus...don't look at me that way, I said it, I'm not ignorant of medical knowledge, sir."

After confirming that the gift from Ai Ruixi was still there, she felt the joy of surviving after a catastrophe, and began to look at the already chaotic living room:

"How are you? . . . Oh dear, I forgot Mrs. Hudson."

Sherlock said sarcastically:

"She has been sent away a long time ago... If she knew that after you survived, the first thing she cared about was some cheap gifts from some insignificant passers-by, and she didn't even think about her, I'm afraid she wouldn't be there again. I'll make you some dessert."

"It's okay, you won't tell her."

Ludwig shrugged:

"So she won't know...you don't move, you have glass shards on your shoulders."

Sherlock turned and let her turn up the collar of his shirt, shake off the dust and glass he hadn't had time to shake off, and carefully loosen his curly black hair, checking for debris, and borrowed Looking at the light outside the window, help him straighten it out.

After Ludwig finished everything, Sherlock stood up, faced her, put on his coat, and said in a cold voice:

"I won't tell her? No, I have no obligation to help you cover up."

"You won't say it, it's not because of obligation."

Ludwig said affirmatively, showing a smile:

"It's because—you like Mrs. Hodson's desserts too, and it won't do you any good to tell her."

"Really?" He pursed his lips calmly.

"However, you just said that Mrs. Hudson had been sent away beforehand?"

Ludwig stretched out his feet, groping for shoes in the dark on the ground:

"Is this what you told Lestrade earlier? Is this what you told me about the religious fanatics lurking around us? You already knew there was going to be an attack tonight, didn't you... Oh, thank you."

Sherlock turned on the flashlight of his mobile phone, and while helping her illuminate the ground, he said in a reasonable tone:

"Of course I know - long-distance sniping needs to step on the spot in advance, and this level of circular fixed-point blasting will take at least a few days to prepare. They have come here three times in total, one point each time, and there is another person who is responsible for recording our whereabouts. ...so I knew about it a few days ago."

"...Then why are we still here today?"

He said strangely:

"Not here, how to lure them out? This is an underground terrorist network from the desert. A year ago, its power was limited to the Suez Canal area, but it rose in just one year. You can see their murder methods The way they did it - well planned, no cover up, whether the shooting was successful or not, they were going to blow up my room because..."

His eyes sparkle:

"Crime is their carnival, and bombs their fireworks...New game, Vichy."