"The Widow" Bertha

In the afternoon of the next day, Bertha sent the coachman to take Grace Poole to Pall Mall Street to get acquainted with the business, and brought a change of clothes and daily necessities there.As for herself, she called Thomas over, gave some instructions, and finally decided to second Charlie Bates from the army of "unable to catch" children, and followed her dressed as a newsboy, so that she could spread the word.

This is also because Pall Mall is located in the political center of London, just one street away from Whitehall.Not to mention the dirty, stinky Whitechapel area and its surroundings, even the rich neighborhood where the White Horse Hotel is located is absolutely incomparable.

It was not until the third evening that Bertha started slowly.

It wasn't until she walked into the residence of Mycroft Holmes that she understood why the always mysterious and solitary devil didn't mind multiple tenants—his house was big enough.

There are only two people living in the huge apartment, and Bertha and Mycroft are busy with their own affairs, so there is only one more person sleeping in the guest room, and it is estimated that they will not meet each other on weekdays.

"Miss Marple."

Bertha got off the carriage and was greeted by the housekeeper.The gray-haired, fifty-year-old butler said respectfully, "Mr. Holmes has not returned yet. He has ordered in advance that if you can't wait, you can eat first."

"Not in a hurry."

Bertha waved her hand: "I can wait for him."

Butler: "Okay, why don't you take this opportunity and let me show you around first?"

Bertha responded with great interest: "Okay."

In terms of the decoration of the residence on Pall Mall Street, it fits Bertha's imagination of "Mycroft's residence"-the standard Victorian furniture arrangement, the walls are hung with things that she recognizes or does not recognize. Antique paintings, bookshelves reaching to the ceiling in the spacious study room, almost every detail is in line with the home environment that Mycroft Holmes should have, but it does not highlight any of his own personal qualities.

As the master, Mycroft did not return until very late.

Bertha was flipping through books casually in the study, when a man's voice suddenly sounded in the silent room: "Augustine's Confessions? I don't know, but you are still interested in theology, Bertha."

Bertha was slightly startled by the sudden appearance, and she looked up, only to find Mycroft standing at the door of the study.

He had already taken off his formal coat, and put aside the walking stick that he never left.The tall man was only wearing a thin white shirt, and his relaxed and relaxed demeanor highlighted his... quite lifelike side.

Holmes, who is so life-like, calls her Bertha. Even though Bertha knows that this is a name changed to implement the "lover" relationship, she feels inexplicably that the intimacy between the two has increased.

It turns out that Sherlock Holmes can also have a life-like side?Bertha raised an eyebrow.

She closed the book: "You came early."

Mycroft tilted his head: "What?"

Bertha: "Come a little later, and I might have a good night's sleep with Rory's long-winded book."

Mycroft laughed at that.

"The kitchen is ready for dinner," he cheerfully invited, "Since the books are boring, why don't you go to the restaurant first?"

"Just your endless restaurant?"

Bertha pursed her lips and teased, "Forget it, I'm afraid that if I sit on one side and talk, you won't be able to hear me on the other side."

Today, the elderly Holmes seems to be in a good mood. He even showed a gesture of approval for Bertha's words: "Coincidentally, I think the same way. Why don't I ask the servant to bring the dinner to the side hall? What do you think?"

That's more or less.

Bertha accepted his proposal, stood up and put the book back in its place: "Let's go?"

Mycroft bowed: "Please."

In fact Mycroft's house was about the same size as Bertha's 23 South Shore Street, though technically smaller.But the location of the two real estate settlements is not the same.

Bertha walked side by side with Mycroft, and she couldn't help sighing: "Pall Mall Street is expensive, you are really good, sir."

"Where," Mycroft clarified, "I'm just a tenant. The British government only provides me with a salary of 450 pounds a year. It's far less rich than Bertha, and I have to rely on you to take care of me in the future."

"Where is this, Mike?" Bertha smirked, "Now you have to look at you for both black and white. How can such a status be compared with money. You are my backer, dear."

"I am over-flattered."

"Humble and humble."

After a business exchange, the two just came to the side hall.

The servant put the dinner on a small table, just enough to accommodate two people sitting face to face, it should be for afternoon tea.Bertha hadn't dined with a human being so intimately since the nineteenth century.

The dinner served was very simple and English enough: one meat dish and two vegetarian dishes, the meat dish was a roast beef, the vegetarian dish was potatoes and carrots, plus the red wine served by the butler himself.

Mycroft raised the wine glass, the red liquid was crystal clear in the tilted glass: "To the Queen."

Bertha smiled, and also raised her glass: "To the Queen."

The glass walls collided, and the crisp sound echoed in the quiet room, indicating that the first night's dinner had begun.

"Now that I've moved here," Bertha asked casually, "what are your plans for the future?"

"Colonel Dent will be visiting in three days' time," replied Mycroft, "and please be there, Bertha. I have also heard that you and Mrs. Fisher are on good terms. If you don't mind, I will pass the news on." Going out, it will be convenient for you to walk around the printing factory in the future, which is very close to Dr. Lang En's laboratory."

Bertha paused slightly with the hand holding the knife and fork, then raised her head: "Won't this trouble you?"

"what?"

"A few well-dressed gentlemen at a party of cabinet ministers made a joke of Senator Fisher and his wife."

"Ah, that happened."

Mycroft's eyes never left his dinner plate, and he didn't take Bertha's worries at all: "It's okay. There are always people in this world who think they are much smarter than others, Bertha, even if the truth is on the surface It's that simple, and it takes a few twists and turns to untangle it. Unfortunately, people in politics tend to be smarter."

There was a pause in his words, and Mycroft twitched the corners of his mouth with a sense of amusement and sarcasm.

"Today you shake hands with Mrs. Fisher, and tomorrow the rumor that I have controlled [-]% of London's factories will spread, and the connection is that my 'lover' met a councilor who opened night schools for female workers Madame. So you need not scruple, Bertha, not to deprive yourself of your liberty on account of me."

These words were spoken frankly, but Bertha did not feel relieved—Bertha wanted to ask him how he knew that he knew Mrs. Fisher.Although Miss Marple has never concealed her whereabouts, but you are so busy, why do you still stare at me every day?

You can blame others for thinking too much!

"It's my honor to get such a promise from Holmes," said the slander, Bertha still kept a smile on her face.

"... no mutual compliments at table, Bertha."

Mycroft smiled wryly: "Being dishonest in front of food is disrespect for food."

Bertha refused to let go of this topic. She tilted her head with great interest, and persistently argued: "I didn't flatter you. If you don't believe me, let me ask you, can you be so close to others?" Have you eaten before?"

"you mean?"

"woman."

"Never."

"That's it, Mike," Bertha held the wine glass, her dark golden eyes shining against the red liquid, "isn't it my honor?"

The night is bright, the lonely man and the widow, plus wine and dinner, and Bertha can even touch the knee of the man opposite with a slight lift of her foot.Even in the 21st century, after such a meal, there should be a more ambiguous and charming plot direction.

However, in the face of Bertha's flirting, Mycroft just smiled—always a look and gesture that seemed to be helpful, but in fact he didn't take it seriously.

"It's your honor, and it's also my honor," the man said politely, then changed the subject and returned to the topic, "The coachman on Pall Mall Street will be reserved for you from now on, Bertha, as long as it's from nine o'clock in the evening to eight o'clock in the morning You and I are in the same room, the rest of the time you are still free."

"You mean living in the same room, in name?"

"Yes."

Naturally, Mycroft would not think in the wrong direction, he immediately understood Bertha's meaning: "If you have an urgent matter and need to go out in private, as long as you don't get caught, it's fine."

"I understand."

After a consensus was reached, Bertha took the initiative to raise her glass: "This time, I wish you a successful plan."

Mycroft toasted happily: "To each other, Bertha."

After that, the two chatted casually about insignificant topics until the end of dinner time.Bertha ate slowly, and Mycroft waited patiently until Bertha put down the plate before doing the same.

"I think you have figured out the location of the guest room, Bertha," said Mycroft. "If there is nothing else, please forgive me for resting first. There are too many things to do today."

"Hold on."

Bertha wiped her hands slowly with a napkin and looked up.

She raised her head slightly, her raised eyebrows and eyes were charming, and her beautiful face seemed to be smiling but not smiling.Bertha changed her tone, and it sounded like she was being coquettish to her lover: "You said it yourself, you owe me, Mike."

Mycroft paused subtly, then sighed resignedly as if conniving, and laughed out loud.

"Of course, I never break my word."

After speaking, Mycroft stood up, and the tall man walked around the table and stopped in front of Bertha.He bent down to draw closer to her, and put a hand on Bertha's back.

This gesture was like holding Bertha in his arms.

Mycroft Holmes lowered his head, and the side of his lips barely brushed Bertha's forehead, and the touch was fleeting.

The temperature came and went quickly, and Bertha just smelled the smell of the man's aftershave, and then he got up and opened the distance with the cold wind.

Intimate enough, but also extremely cold.

"Good night, dear Bertha," whispered Mycroft, "and I wish you sweet dreams to-night."

The author has something to say: #今天麦哥Has gone out, no!But he took Bertha home!Plan pass √#

Jiang Hua: Wait a minute, is that all?That's it?That's it?

Bertha, Maggie: Otherwise?

Jiang Hua: Uh... It seems that it is really not suitable for dry firewood and fire to get straight to the topic... [Unreconciled.jpg]