[Sherlock Holmes] The Rose and the Thorn

Claire sat in the warm room, but her heart was as cold as the frozen Thames in February.

The door was pushed open, and after the dull sound of solid wood friction, there was an unexpected voice:

"We go home."

She seemed to wake up from a dream, she didn't know how she should face Holmes now.She was only half a day away from him, but everything... all... all... yeah, it's all changed, it's all changed!She lost her elder brother, the elder brother who had been with her until now, like half of her father's elder brother, he was killed by her former husband.He went with the thought of dying together, she knew.Victor understood that in this way, no one would hurt her again, and likewise, she completely dissolved the husband and wife relationship with Hudson.

The most straightforward, the most...cruel.

"Victor...is dead." Claire didn't look at Holmes' expression, "Did you know?"

"I know," replied Holmes, looking at the haggard woman.

"Sorry, I couldn't work with you until the end yesterday afternoon."

"It doesn't matter." The detective replied, he thought he probably never had such patience with anyone before, but today, the appearance of this woman in front of him made him unable to raise his voice, but it only made his throat dry.Because he knew that the death of his best friend had something to do with him.

"You... already knew what he was doing?" She turned her head, and Holmes' sharp gray eyes like vultures moved away so confidently for the first time.He was responsible. At that time, he thought that this friend who was as thoughtful, measured and strategic as himself would definitely stop in time.But he didn't, and in a letter he sent himself not long ago, Victor actually asked him to take good care of Claire.He should be vigilant, his nose is clearly comparable to a hound, why did he underestimate the risk on the closest person?

So Holmes was speechless, and he lowered his head, not daring to look into Claire's tear-stained pupils.

"You shouldn't have kept it from me, Holmes." Claire turned her head, "You don't understand what Victor means to me. From today onwards, I really have no family or reason..."

"Claire," he interrupted her when she reached out to wipe her tears, "you still have..." He finally raised his head to look at the woman, meeting her red eyes, "you still have... home."

Claire looked at him, at that moment, she didn't know how she felt.But one thing is for sure, she feels that she is not as uncomfortable as before.

■

On the day of Victor's funeral, the sky was overcast, and soon afterward it began to rain coldly.The withered grass was still wet from the cold rain, and everything was chilling and desperate.

They returned to Victor and Claire's hometown, where their father, old Trevor, was buried, one with the desolate fields, and now his son returned to watch with his father This is the land they have been guarding all along.

Claire was at the head of the funeral procession, and she couldn't stop crying all day.Fortunately, her good friend, Miss Morstan, was with him all day, and tried to comfort and help her when she was close to fainting several times.

And now it was the last step of the etiquette. They slowly lowered the coffin containing Victor's body into the soil, and soon after, they covered him with a thick layer of soil.

Since then, she and Victor have never had the chance to meet.

The crowd offered him white roses one by one, and the epitaph engraved on the stone tablet clearly read: May you be truly happy in heaven.

It was written by Claire to him. It was not until the moment of Victor's death that Claire realized that from a long time ago, his smile was based on the safety and happiness of everyone around him, and once someone was in trouble, he would Worry about it, and even pay for it with your life.

All along, he has not been a competent "optimist".

"Promise my brother, don't think about me anymore." Claire said softly when offering roses, while Miss Morstan, who was holding an umbrella, patted her on the back, hoping that she would pass her grief.But when it was Holmes' turn, he just put down the rose and stared at the stele without saying a word for a long while before slowly crossing himself.

When everything was settled, the crowd began to slowly leave.The detective took out a pipe from his coat pocket. He had been silent all day, and now he would start smoking, as if to calm his sad heart.

Watson chased after him. Perhaps while his wife was comforting Claire, it was necessary for him to comfort this friend who was also deeply affected.

"Holmes, when do you plan to go back?" He didn't go straight to the point. Watson knew that this man didn't like to hear any words that made him feel weak, including kind ones.

"Leave in a while." Holmes replied with a puff of smoke, his brows were still full of sorrow, "Watson, you don't need to comfort me. I have already reflected on myself. I am responsible for Victor's sudden death this time." Can't get rid of it."

"You obviously haven't come out of self-blame." Watson saw him being so straightforward, so he was open and honest, "Anyone who can say such a sentence must still feel ashamed."

"I'm still blaming myself, doctor." Holmes said lightly. "I should have stopped him earlier. He didn't deserve to die for that bastard Hudson."

"Mr Treve died more for Ms Treve," replied Watson.

"I don't want to quarrel with you, Watson. You may be good as a doctor, but you are not suitable to be a psychological counselor." After Holmes finished speaking, he gradually stopped. He turned and looked at Claire under the tombstone in the rain. He was wearing an all-black dress and an all-black overcoat. Although he had a gauze top hat on his head, the detectives could still see those red eyes at a glance.

He closed his eyes, turned and continued walking:

"I heard that Ms. Morstan is going to take her to England for vacation?"

"Yes, we'll leave after the funeral. My wife and Treve are good friends." Watson nodded. "Holmes," he suddenly changed the subject, "You should like her, right?"

"..." The detective didn't answer, and the answer was self-evident.

"Then you should treat her well, Holmes. Mr. Treve even gave his life for his sister's happiness, and you should cherish the present."

Holmes said nothing. He smoked his pipe, looked at the black crows flying in the leaden sky, and took a deep breath:

"Watson, though I blame myself, I think Victor is quite right."

"..." Watson looked up at him, and the detective's face suddenly relaxed a lot, calmly looking at the big dark cloud above his head.

"It will be sunny soon, even if you are smashed to pieces."

■

When leaving Norfolk in the afternoon, Claire still came to the train station to see Holmes off.Watson also went back to London with him, as he had agreed with Morstan, during which they would accompany each other's friends through difficult times.

She took off her mourning clothes, and when she came to the train station, she was already dressed elegantly.

"It's fun, Claire, you should give yourself a chance to relax, and no one will come to trouble you again." Holmes said standing in front of the car door, "Maybe in this way, you can still have new inspiration for novels."

"..." Claire didn't speak, her eyes were still red, she looked up at Holmes, she didn't know where to start.So she pursed her lips, "Sir, White has been fired by me. You know, I'm afraid to involve her. After all, she is still young after all. And sir, I mean, I'm sorry, you have been working hard during this time." Just stay there by yourself. If you don't feel safe there, you can leave, but I think... I don't think our relationship will end because of Victor's death, I still hope..." She was a little bit incoherent, so Holmes interrupted her:

"I'm not leaving 221 Baker Street, Claire," he said calmly.

"...That's good." Claire nodded, she thought maybe she was just worrying blindly, because from the first time she saw him at the train station, she felt something uneasy hovering, which made her heart It was always "thumping".When Holmes was about to turn around, Claire reached out and grabbed his wrist, "Sorry, sorry, Sherlock...my heart just can't slow down."

"Don't worry, you will be safe, and you will live in peace forever." Holmes reached out and stroked her shoulder. "Claire, we each have goals and choices, accept and believe." He said and pulled her into the room. in his arms.At this moment and here, he felt that she needed such a hug, and he also needed such a hug.

Because he didn't know if he could have a second hug with her.

Soon after, the train whistle sounded, and Watson and Holmes boarded the train.The scenery flew by outside the window, the sky was getting dark, the carriage was lit, and Watson looked at Holmes:

"Are you really planning to go back to 221 Baker Street?"

"Yes."

"Then during this time, I will live with you too?"

"Actually, it's not necessary. It's only one night to decide whether to live or die."

"..." Watson looked at him in surprise, and the expression of death made him raise his voice immediately, "What do you mean, Holmes? What are you going to do?"

The detective opposite looked up at Watson:

"Maybe I haven't mentioned a man named 'Moriarty' to you, Victor's death, Hudson's demise, Claire's threats, everything comes from this hidden behind all events black hand."

"..." Watson listened carefully to every word Holmes said.

"And this guy just came to me a few days ago. He's just as scrupulous and detached as I am. We're the same guy, but we're doing diametrically opposite things."

"So what?" Watson didn't dare to listen, so he deliberately pretended to be calm.

"I think we'll have a showdown tomorrow, maybe as he said, 'I didn't destroy him, we all died together'."