[Comprehensive] Mrs. Holmes Daily

Yatum spread his hands, and the bones made a rattling sound as they stretched:

"Because once a person starts to be stupid, he will stay stupid forever... You were originally rational, but when you heard this woman walked into my casino, you started to become stupid."

He walked up to Ludwig and smiled, but there was no smile in his eyes:

"Look, two hours from Liverpool to London and your boyfriend turns it into half an hour... My driver is sure to ask me for a raise because he's been flying all day."

Atum reached out and touched the brim of his hat, and gave a curtain call to Sherlock, with an elegant gesture:

"French homage to your French love! You didn't even realize that the driver was mine, and you got into a taxi recklessly-this is the same calm and meticulous style when you smashed my plan in Greece Not even close."

Ludwig stood aside, her right hand was still hurting, but she felt her headache was getting worse.

——Reckless, not calm, these are definitely not words used to describe Sherlock.

Now, it turned out to be because of her, these words were all poured onto him.

Sherlock took out the phone from his pocket, looked at it, and frowned: "You cut off the signal."

"In order to welcome you, of course I have to make thorough preparations to ensure nothing goes wrong."

"That's a little troublesome."

He took back the phone and said to Ludwig:

"Without a signal, I can't tell my mother to have dinner later... We can rush back for dinner in about four or 10 minutes, and the fresh cherry sauce will oxidize within half an hour, and the taste will be greatly reduced."

Ludwig looked at the men and women at the gaming table staring at them like wolves, and gave a dry laugh:

"……yes."

"Mom must celebrate your birthday. I went to buy food in the morning. Old John's wife made fondant cake for you. Father and Mycroft were also there, but you didn't come back at noon and the phone was turned off, so she planned to Again."

Sherlock stated like a running account, extremely objective, but Ludwig felt his throat was blocked by something, and wanted to smile, but couldn't make any expression.

They gave her a birthday, they made her a cake...and she let everyone dove.

Mrs. Herras, such an elegant person, buys food for her.

She only mentioned fondant cake once, and Old John and his wife made it for her... Old John is [-] years old this year, so how old is his wife?

……

Atum snuffed out the cigarette on the wooden chair, leaving a small black hole.

He sighed with infinite regret:

"I'm not surprised now why you didn't realize the driver was mine - you wasted all your time on the taste of the cherry sauce, I can't believe I lost a car to this nonsense A rare opponent..."

He touched his pocket, and as if by magic, a large handful of confetti popped out of his pocket—prelude to the party.

"Losing the edge of sanity, you're as useless as a street rat...Baby, game over, I've lost interest in you."

The colored paper slipped past his eyes and fell lightly to the ground.

A beautiful woman quietly appeared behind Ludwig, wearing slender high heels, crystal nails inlaid with gemstones, accurately clasping the arteries in her neck.

And a silver knife appeared from the ribbon, and pressed against Sherlock's throat.

Ludwig ignored the cold fingers on her neck. She stared closely at the sharp knife on Sherlock's chin, trying to quietly take out the phone from her pocket, but after trying twice, the phone fell out of her hand. slipped.

"Baby, if you move a little bit, I guarantee that your girlfriend's pretty face will be brighter than fireworks."

Atum was like a cat playing with a mouse, the tip of the knife slowly slid across Sherlock's neck, leaving a small, bright red mark.

Sherlock stood there without a word, his hands in his pockets, a slight sarcasm in his eyes, dismissive of Atum's mischief.

She watched helplessly as the knife pierced Sherlock's pale skin little by little, piercing into the blue blood vessels.

Then, when a drop of bright red blood spilled out, the tip of the knife stopped two millimeters below Sherlock's skin.

Ludwig only felt a long breath in his heart, which slowly spread out, and the lead weight hanging in his heart suddenly fell to the bottom.

Only then did she realize that her palms were covered with sweat and her hands were shaking all the time.

That knife was the one that cut off the black man's eyes before, and it was taken back by Atum at some point, and it was still stained with blood that hadn't dried out... Now it was stained with Sherlock's blood.

She remembered that when she shared breakfast with Sherlock in the morning, he clearly reminded her not to go out today.

But she still went out, stupidly fell into the trap of this group of lunatics, stupidly became the bait, and attracted Sherlock.

If her neck was on the knife rest, she wouldn't be so nervous, at least she wouldn't be unable to hold her phone.

die?It was just a pain—she was a living person who had woken from the dead, and she wasn't afraid of it.

But if the tip of the knife refers to Sherlock...

Ludwig glanced at the faces behind Atum from the corner of his eye...Where's Donovan?What about Scotland Yard?Where did those people who usually come to Sherlock for help go?

She looked at the silver knife—sharp, shiny, menacing.

How to do?How to do?

She moved her lips and was about to speak when Sherlock cut her off.

"I've already said, Miss Ludwig, you just need to stay by my side and don't have to think about how to escape."

Sherlock felt the cold knife tip on his Adam's apple, and without looking at her, he accurately cut off what she was about to say.

As if he didn't feel that he was at a disadvantage, he calmly said to Atum:

"From beginning to end, you guessed two things wrong."

Artum is half a head shorter than Sherlock, standing in front of Sherlock, looking up into his eyes:

"In order to express my regret for the fall of the meteor - I will give you a chance to say my last words."

"First thing, I knew that taxi was sent by you before I even got in the car - your man was very cautious and changed cars three times on the way following me. But he forgot one thing, everyone's driving The way is different, he shouldn't like to pull the handbrake before stepping on the brakes, and he shouldn't show up after changing cars three times when he has obvious driving preferences. Not smart."

Atum nodded:

"So, you got into that car knowing that I sent you the driver? Is this provocation baby?"

Sherlock said strangely:

"Provocation? What good does it do me? At least the driver you send knows the way... This casino is located in a remote place. It's too troublesome to take other taxis and have to give directions to the driver."

Atum's eyes lit up again, and he tilted his head to look at Sherlock like a lost and found work of art.

"Honey, you always have this ability, let me repeat for you... My love for you seems to be back."

He sighed softly:

"But what to do? You are going to die."

The cold tip of the knife slid against Sherlock's Adam's apple all the way to his chin.

The original bloodstains snaked on the snow-white skin, adding a sense of temptation for no reason.

"So tell me before you die, what was my second mistake?"

"The second mistake - you said, this is the carnival banquet you invited me to? Sorry, I forgot to tell you..."

Sherlock smiled suddenly, and meteors flashed across his eyes:

"You didn't invite me, but I invited you."

The woman behind Ludwig had appeared silently before, before she could say a word, she was knocked out silently and dragged on.

Ludwig didn't have time to notice who knocked out the woman who was holding her hostage. She opened her eyes wide and looked at the black muzzle of the gun that suddenly appeared behind Atum.

That's - Tom the Dealer.

Sherlock raised the corners of his lips in the gesture of a host welcoming a guest:

"Welcome to my carnival."

The muzzle of the gun was pressed firmly against the back, even without eyes, a fool would know what it was.

The silver point slashed across Sherlock's face, falling dangerously out of the corner of his eye.

But then, Yatum let go of his hand, and the knife "clicked" and fell to the ground.

His fingers caught Sherlock's collar at the nape of his neck, and he slid it all the way to the first button of his shirt, tidying it up for him.

Sherlock remained expressionless.

Yatum clapped his hands: "Wonderful, really wonderful, I underestimated you... How many people are yours in this casino?"

Sherlock thought for two seconds:

"From the definition of the division of ownership, I have only Miss Ludwig, not only here, but everywhere in the world... The others are just collaborators...Isn't it, Thompson?"

The croupier Tom held his gun steadily and said with a smile:

"I've been stressing this with you since three years ago—my name is Tom, Tom, sir."

"it's the same."

Sherlock waved his hand and took a step closer to Atum:

"Yatum, the creator god in Egyptian legends, you named yourself after the name of a god, you are high above, overlooking all living beings, but trying to rule them in vain - this is why you have clearly made detailed plans today, even using hypnosis , but still failed.”

Ludwig frowned: "Hypnosis? What's going on here?"

"How do you think you got here?"

Sherlock didn't look at her, his tone was indifferent and blunt, but he still answered:

"This question should be asked to you. You suddenly changed your route after passing through the Camdenmarket, where there are a large number of abstract paintings by modernist painters on the walls, and one of the conditions for psychological suggestion is a strong color conflict. . . What did you see there?"

What did she see there?

Twisted beasts, flowers, and women.

Bright red, thick green, the curled petals of sunflowers stretch their teeth and claws, like indifferent and distorted human faces, standing silently on the rough wall.

And the man in the all-black trench coat smiling at her in front of the giant cornflower print.

She didn't care to explore how Sherlock knew her walking route so accurately, she just felt, suddenly realized.

This can explain why Atum knew in advance that she would come to this red-light district when she herself was baffled.

Because he was planning from the beginning to the end, from the moment she approached the market, or earlier, he created the illusion of a drug deal to lure her into the bait with Scotland Yard.

The purpose is to introduce her to the casino through Scotland Yard, and then lead Sherlock through her.

They were intertwined, and they all jumped into the pool prepared by Atum.

Seeing her expression out of the corner of his eye, Sherlock said lightly:

"Do you understand?"

Ludwig: "I figured it out."

Come to think of it, she was—so stupid.

Atum turned the brim of his hat, and the brown plaid beret perfectly matched his complexion—it was a healthy tan from the beach.

"That's why I'm on top—because we're supposed to be on top, aren't we? Things you can see through at a glance, they may never find the answer, and the difference between people lies in this line."

He ignored the gun pointed at him behind him, turned around, and looked at all kinds of men and women in the casino.

"Look at them, look at them—look at these ignorant people."

His expression was extremely distressed:

"There are as many people in this world as the cells in your body, each with a brain as big as a soybean, which is simply a great waste of resources - shouldn't they be destroyed? Their lifespan, time, And health, should be distributed to those who are wiser, and they will make a greater world."