"The Widow" Bertha

Early morning, gypsy shanty town.

Maria in the caravan wakes up before dawn as usual, and she must perform a daily divination before stepping out of the gypsy caravan.However, today's Maria picked up the teacup, but suddenly her mind was shaken, and the scalding hot water splashed onto the side of her hand.

Maria subconsciously withdrew her hand, the teacup shattered on the ground, and the tea dregs used for divination were scattered all over the floor.

She immediately froze in place.

"What's wrong?" Sandra, one of Maria's younger sisters, got up and asked.

"No, nothing."

The gypsy girl shook her head.

"It's a good thing."

The alien girl stared at the tea dregs on the ground for a while, and then let out a breath slowly.She opened the curtain of the caravan, and the sky of the Whitechapel area was already glowing faintly.

It's going to be cold soon.

"The evil is gone," she whispered, "the demon has returned to its proper place."

On the street, youths wearing red scarves and gloves came back one after another, bumping into poor people who were about to start work, and all the civilians gave way for them, they cast fearful glances at the tired or injured gang members, and passed by Discussed in a low voice.

"It's said that Lady Thames' boys are fighting with gangs from other boroughs."

"Which district is the other district?"

"Who knows, I just heard about it this morning. Who would dare to inquire about their street gangs?"

"I also know something. This time, a real guy was moved, and there were many casualties. Mrs. Thames seems to have a backer behind her? It's not just her boys who went there."

"Pastor White seems to have had an accident, and it has something to do with the fire."

"It should be. I also heard that Mrs. Thames is planning to attend Pastor White's funeral in person."

After a few discussions, the workers became bolder when they saw the red spots on the street disappearing in the office.

"It's been a lot of trouble lately," said a foreman. "It's only been a long time since old Jesse died, and now there's another gang war, and what about the devil in Whitechapel?"

"Shh-"

The foreman's voice fell to the ground, and suddenly a child's voice came from the crowd.

"Can't catch" Jack jumped out of nowhere, and people immediately shut up when they saw his red scarf.

But there was a beaming smile on the little boy's face. With his hands behind his head, he curled his mouth viciously: "Stop talking about the Ripper and the Whitechapel demon from now on!"

Jack lowered his voice mysteriously.

"The Ripper has been settled privately," the boy whispered. "There are many things involved in this case. Mrs. Thames has promised that he will not appear again. Remember that."

After speaking, without waiting for the crowd to react, he dodged into the crowd again and left.

It was solved in private, and it was thanks to Mrs. Thames again?

Several gossiping workers looked at each other, and finally the foreman scratched his nose in confusion: "This Mrs. Thames is busy enough, but her gang and people got into a fight overnight. Where is she now?"

Yes, where is Mrs Thames?

***

It was still dark when Bertha returned to the Smiths' apartment.

She stopped in front of the apartment door, originally intending to raise her hand to knock, but when her palm fell, Bertha found that the door was ajar.

The door is not locked.

Surrounded by Mycroft's secret whistle, she wasn't worried that someone would break open the door and sneak in.Bertha pushed the door open and entered the room. As she expected, the living room was dark.

Bertha sat directly on the sofa.

Only when her body sank into the soft cushion did she let out a long sigh of relief and let go of her tight body that had been tense since leaving the church.

Both Thomas and Ned strongly hoped that Bertha could rest at the office today, or return to South Shore Street at worst, at least there were all their own people there.

But Bertha refused.

The room was silent, and the only thing Bertha could hear was her own breathing, and... the slight rustling sound of suit fabric rubbing against each other.

"Good morning, ma'am."

From behind Bertha came Mycroft's gentle greeting, always with a sort of smile.She heard footsteps approaching, and the tall gentleman stopped behind the sofa.

Bertha didn't look back: "Good morning, Mike."

Mycroft: "All the people sent by the Truth Society to Dr. Lear's apartment have been dealt with. I have already started to arrange for the rumors of the gang fire to spread. I believe that by this time the rumors have already spread among the workers who got up early."

Bertha: "It's over here, too."

Mycroft: "Congratulations, it can be regarded as an explanation for the two dead ladies."

Bertha: "..."

Mycroft: "What?"

The Jamaican girl sitting on the sofa tilted her head.

Under extremely dim conditions, all Mycroft could see was Bertha's thin outline, her slender and elegant neck turned slightly, as beautiful as a proud black swan.

"Aren't you going to ask me, Mike?"

"What would Madam wish me to ask?"

"About what happened in the church."

"Ah," Mycroft said regretfully, "I'm sorry for what happened to Reverend White. Although I don't know what happened in the church, Ma'am, the dead are dead, and it may be a matter for him to die by shooting." Good thing, that's better than dying madly."

"Don't you want to ask who the shooter is?"

"Does that matter?"

"..."

Bertha chuckled softly.

Yeah, that really doesn't matter.

She felt Mycroft's palm fall on her shoulder along with her laughter. The man's palm was dry and warm, and his broad palm gently wrapped her shoulder.

Mycroft leaned slightly: "Madam, you should go to rest, too many things happened tonight."

Bertha: "I want to be here quietly."

Tranquility declined to land, but Bertha did not get the tranquility she wanted.

After a moment's silence, Mycroft sighed, "Excuse me, ma'am."

Bertha: "What—"

Before she could react, the tall man walked around from behind the sofa in front of Bertha.

He bent down, one hand fell on Bertha's shoulder, and the other reached out to the hollow of her knee, and then Bertha felt light all over, and was directly picked up by Mycroft.

Bertha was taken aback by the sudden weightlessness.

If it were normal, Bertha would definitely have a stomach full of flirtatious words waiting for Mycroft, but at this moment, all the words were brewing in her heart, and then she just closed her eyes, and naturally raised her arms to wrap around the man's chest arm.

Mycroft hugged Bertha and walked to the second floor: "I know you are very sad, ma'am. But believe me, you must not let yourself be immersed in emotions at this time, this is not the time."

"Talk from your experience?"

"Talking from my experience."

"So," Bertha looked up at the face that was close at hand, "do you mean the experience of bereavement, or the experience of shooting?"

"All."

After speaking, Mycroft kicked open the bedroom door.

He slowly placed Bertha on the bed, and then the man's hand was removed from under Bertha's body: "You were right once, madam, I was not born to sit behind the scenes and direct others."

Eyes facing each other, breathing interlaced.

Just before Mycroft was about to get up, Bertha grabbed the man's tie.

Her movements were so quick and precise that even Mycroft hadn't expected them, and Bertha pulled the man back in front of her with just a gentle tug.

"Don't be immersed in emotions, to put it lightly," Bertha Fei smiled, "I'm not you, Mike, as long as you close the door of the memory palace, it will be as if nothing happened."

After finishing speaking, she said again: "You said... Should we do something to divert my attention?"

Mycroft laughed out loud.

The man's laughter lingered in the darkness, but before he could say the words of refusal, Bertha kissed him.

Unlike the light touch in the past, which was tasted lightly and disappeared as soon as it was touched, this time the kiss carried real heat.The familiar scent of the perfume hits the face, but after one night, the rich and outrageous top notes almost disappear, only the faint fragrance of blackcurrant is left.

It was almost sad, and made the girl in his arms carry a bit of despair that couldn't dissipate.

At first it was only Bertha's dance alone, making contact and circling around the gentleman, as if she had sent out an unanswered invitation as usual.But soon there was a smokeless fire between them, and the heat rose and swirled, and Bertha froze when Mycroft Holmes joined the dance, and then a hoarse laugh rolled between their throats.

Between kisses, Mycroft took the lead.The man's hand was buried in her hair, and he gently pulled her black hair, holding the back of her head, feeling the entanglement of their scents inch by inch.

Until the bleakness and sadness completely disappeared from her body.

Mycroft pulled back a little.

Their skins were still touching, their ears rubbed against each other, and the man's voice was almost leaning against the woman's ear: "Compared to this, madam, you need rest more."

"how about you?"

Bertha said provocatively: "Is this how you intend to go?"

Mycroft shook his head: "No."

Still holding the back of Bertha's head, he laid her gently but unquestionably on the pillow: "Nothing will happen to you and me tonight, madam."

"why?"

Bertha raised her eyebrows. She was very tired, but she still refused to let go: "Stop acting like you are indifferent, sir, your lips are no different from mine, they both have human warmth."

Mycroft couldn't help laughing: "Because I'm determined not to take advantage of others. Taking advantage of you when you are sad and sad is what a villain does."

Bertha: "..."

Mycroft: "If something happens, you'll hate me afterwards, and I won't give you the chance."

"I won't leave either, ma'am."

The gentleman's palm fell on her forehead carefully, and pulled back the broken hair around her ears for Bertha.

She is really tired.

She was so tired that Bertha could hardly hear anything when she touched the pillow.

Only in the haze, Mycroft's whispers still ring in my ears.Bertha found that his voice was as uncontrollably reassuring as his warmth on the side of her face.

"Sleep, Bertha, I will always be here."