[Comprehensive] Mrs. Holmes Daily

Sherlock was lazily lying on the bed, holding his mobile phone, with a casual posture.

Ludwig stood dumbfounded at the door of the bathroom, only wrapped around a bath towel, and his long black hair was wetly draped over his fair shoulders.

A gust of wind blew leisurely, and my arms were chilly.

After a while, she said calmly:

"Please go out, sir, this is my room."

Sherlock's eyes fell on her, paused for two seconds, and then moved away, without a sense of emotional fluctuation.

"It's my room too."

He turned his head and continued to look at his phone calmly:

"I've been living here for a long time."

Is this Sherlock's bedroom?

Ludwig paused for a moment: "...your mother arranged us in the same room?"

Sherlock didn't look at her, held the phone, and didn't move his fingers, as if he was browsing the web, but he didn't turn the page for a long time:

"What's wrong with us sharing a room?"

Ludwig silently leaned against the doorpost, holding his temple - as if there was nothing wrong, at least the relationship was fully established.

How to do?

She looked at the wall clock and said wittily, "It's not twelve o'clock yet, sir...I'm still a minor now."

Sherlock finally looked up and glanced at her:

"General minors don't play all the way from French bars to German bars, from German bars to Italian nightclubs, and from Italian nightclubs to Swiss pole dancing clubs."

If she remembers correctly, Sherlock has "inadvertently" mentioned the fact that she likes to go to bars and pubs many times. Although she didn't say it directly, Ludwig also understands it. This is...mind ?dissatisfied?blame?

Ludwig frowned.

She does like going to bars, but not for sex or to get drunk.

After traveling alone for a long time, the city, architecture, and food gradually become boring, and the journey becomes lengthy due to this boring.

See more scenery, almost everywhere.

The wonderful thing is the people.

She went to these dirty, abusive taverns, talked to the men there, talked to the women there, flirted with them occasionally, just out of curiosity—

When she smiled at a drunken woman, what was this woman thinking?

When she kissed the weeping cheek of a penitent man, what was this man thinking?

Of course, it's not just sex, people who are so drunk, whether it's happy or painful, will recognize her as a friend or a mother.

The more places she traveled, she also gradually discovered that why drunk people get drunk, why people who open rooms open rooms, and the motives behind these behaviors are not as simple as she imagined.

So, she was just looking at those people.

Look at them, carnival because of ignorance, arrogant because of depravity, and spend money because of poverty.

Also because of missing, and more alienated.

... But why did she explain it?

Chastity and integrity, initially, were just rules made by the patrilineal society to determine bloodlines and stabilize sovereignty, and had nothing to do with the virtues that the world calls.

Even if she was really as passionate as a dancer, it was before she knew him. Besides, she didn't hurt anyone, what to do, where to go, isn't it all her own business?

"You don't have to use this tone, sir, if you don't like my way of life, you can dislike me, and you can stay away from me, but you can't blame me-just like I don't like many of your ideas, but I I won't blame you."

She stared at her toes, the drops of water from her hair, dripping onto her red toenails:

"I don't think conservatism is a virtue... People who create virtue have never been those who abide by virtue. It is a lie to try to restrain others with their own worldview-I always thought that this is what you think too."

Sherlock Holmes will never be constrained by the rules made by the world. He has his own ideas and only accepts the rules he agrees with.

He attacked life without observation and thinking, but never believed that the people around him should change because of his thoughts.

This was also where she admired him the most when she was a child.

Sherlock watched her in silence for a while:

"Yes."

His voice was like taut violin strings, and there was no expression on his face.

Just, looking at her deeply, said in a low voice:

"This is indeed what I have always thought. It has always been like this in the past, now, and in the future. It will not be changed because of anything or...anyone."

Ludwig nodded.

A strand of black hair, because of her movement, slipped from her shoulders and hung on her chest.

"I'm glad we can reach a consensus, so let's solve the next problem - there is only one bed here, not even a sofa, so, will you sleep in another room, or me?"

Sherlock was half lying on the snow-white sheet, with a slender leg bent, and his black trousers were wrinkled at the bend.

He raised his eyebrows slightly:

"I seem to have just heard a woman say sternly that conservatism is not a virtue."

…Sleeping in the same bed with Sherlock Holmes is no longer a matter of being conservative or not.

The cheap boyfriend she comes with the book, everything she does today is challenging her mental capacity.

She tightened the towel and walked towards the bell at the door.

"Then, I will change."

"Old John has already fallen asleep, are you going to let a [-]-year-old old man get up again?"

"Are there no other servants?"

"A servant serves the guests...the one who serves you, of course, is the butler."

Sherlock's lazy voice sounded behind her:

"I advise you not to do this. If you refuse the room your mother prepared for you, you will be unable to do anything tomorrow, and you will be hugged and cried by your mother for 48 hours."

Ludwig stopped in his tracks.

She frowned: "how can it be so exaggerated?"

Sherlock smiled slightly:

"Trust me, this is definitely not an exaggeration - do you know how the second Chechen war broke out in [-]?"

"...I don't really want to know."

"At that time, my father refused to go to the North Pole with my mother to bask in the northern lights, and went alone to hunt penguins in the southern temperate zone. Because of this incident, my mother sat in Mycroft's office and cried for three days and three nights."

Ludwig: "..."

"Mycroft was crushed by his mother crying, and he directly said 'let them die' to the President of the Russian Federation government on the phone... As a result, the second Chechen war broke out three years earlier than he had planned. "

Ludwig: "..."

Sherlock said leisurely:

"Mycroft knew how to control his emotions before he learned to speak. That was the only time in his life that he lost control of his emotions. It was a black history that he absolutely didn't want to mention. A year of preparation was in vain... So, you absolutely Wouldn't want to go through it."

. . Mrs. Herras mighty.

Ludwig walked back silently.

But halfway through, he stopped again.

"No, it still doesn't work, let's change the room."

"why?"

"No reason."

Sherlock's cold gaze swept over her bare and thin shoulders, and her slender white legs under the obviously not long enough bath towel.

His eyes deepened a little.

He said in an unpredictable tone: "Are you worried... what will I do to you?"

Ludwig was expressionless: "Not worried at all."

Probably only Sherlock in the whole world doesn't know yet.

He has been sealed by the whole world as the first virgin of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland... In her eyes, Sherlock's holiness is comparable to that of Shakyamuni.

So, she wasn't worried at all.

"Then there is no obstacle."

He turned his head calmly, casually:

"Because I don't mind what you'll do to me."

"..."

Ludwig raised his head, looking at the ceiling with the duplex ceiling, and was speechless for a while at Shylock's words.

Although she knew that what Sherlock meant was probably nine out of ten—the difference in strength between us is too great, it is impossible for you to do anything to me, so I am not worried.

But... she will be mistaken, okay?Ask Sherlock what it means!

... Mom, London is getting more and more dangerous here, please take me back to Earth.

She ran through her hair irritably.

"It's not for this reason... You know, I have the habit of sleeping naked, right?"

After all, on Baker Street, Sherlock broke into her room more than once in the middle of the night, waved a secret letter, or a piece of arm, and excitedly told her his latest research results.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes:

"You mean every time I come into your room, you happen to be naked?"

...just not wearing clothes?

Your whole estate just happens to be naked!

Ludwig took a deep breath and reminded himself that he was wearing a bath towel now, so he couldn't kick it directly:

"I mean, I didn't bring pajamas, I only brought a coat. I can't sleep in pajamas, and I can't sleep in such a loose coat..."

She said expectantly, "So, or another room?"

Sherlock turned back disapprovingly:

"That's not a problem. Mom must have prepared pajamas for you. It should be in the closet on the right-the left is mine."

Ludwig pouted, reluctantly responded, and walked over to open the wardrobe door:

"Oh... what the hell."

With a bang, she closed the closet again.

"What's the matter? Don't you like the style? Although the style of the clothes has nothing to do with its essential function, if you really don't like it, you can ask the housekeeper to customize it tomorrow..."

Sherlock crawled across the bed, hugging the pillow with one hand, and opened the cupboard door with the other.

And then... he fell into a rare silence.

There is a whole wardrobe full of all kinds of pajamas.

But without exception...thin, transparent, short, lacking fabric.

Just looking at it is provocative.

"Humans have really stretched their imaginations to the limit...they can be bundled together? How did they come up with so many styles?"

Now that it has been discovered, Ludwig is no longer awkward, she stretched out her hand in admiration:

"It's so classic, it has to be photographed - phone, sir."

Sherlock didn't look at Ludwig who was wearing only a bath towel, but was studying sexy pajamas with men openly.

With a tense face, he took out his mobile phone from the left pocket of his trousers and handed it over.

Ludwig only glanced at it before throwing the phone back.

"I mean my phone."

--My cell phone.

That is, by default, she agreed to use the mobile phone that was unilaterally monitored by him.

That is, by default, she agreed to hand over all her privacy to him.

...This is her compromise?

If letting her get angry so innocuously in the car can easily get her to compromise, then maybe he can consider angering her a few more times.

Sherlock hooked his mouth and took out Ludwig's cell phone from his right pocket.

Ludwig waved his mobile phone: "Come on, Mr. Holmes, stand here and take a photo with this pair of cat ears full of fun."

Sherlock: "..."

Seeing Sherlock's expression of having eaten overnight food, she put down her phone, suppressed a smile, and stretched out her hand to pinch the fluffy cat's tail:

"What did you do to make your mother think you like belts? Speaking of which, there are several cats...you like this kind of tail?"

Sherlock looked at her with a subtle tone:

"...if you're going to try it on."

Ludwig immediately let go of the tail:

"Not going to...you can lend me a looser shirt."

Sherlock came out of the bathroom, and what he saw was that Ludwig was sitting on the bed, holding a copy of "Modern Poetry: Keats, Eliot, Pound and Auden" in one hand, and a book he had used for many years in the other. quill, making notes on book page.

The book has been flipped to the end, and her rosy fingertips lightly tap on the black typeface.

Sometimes, she frowned slightly, as if she was puzzled by a certain passage in the book, but she would relax it soon.

The white sleeves were rolled up to her elbows—his shirt, hanging loosely on her.

Ludwig finally couldn't ignore Sherlock's gaze.

She crossed out the wrong note she made before, and reminded aloud:

"Sir, how long are you going to keep this posture?"