Bad days as neighbors with Sherlock Holmes

The air is filled with fresh breath, the sun, rain and grass are beginning to wake up, mixed and interlaced with many sounds, awakening the originally silent city.

Another new day.

The streets and alleys of the city also came alive. Vegetable vendors pushing shabby carts, flower girls carrying flower baskets and wearing flowers on their heads, workers in work clothes, and more people came from here one after another. He walked out of the warm home and walked towards his workplace.

Elena stood by the window, staring blankly at the people passing by in a hurry.

Many years ago, the young girl who had just arrived was also standing here, holding her own sketchbook, looking at the buildings in London with novelty and persistence, and just like now, looking at the passing pedestrians downstairs.

When she came, stretches of Gothic buildings enveloped London, and the dense arrangement of buildings blocked the sunlight that shone through layers of dark clouds.

In the past ten years, more and more different voices have appeared in London. After that, there have been decorative buildings with different heights and different styles, but all of them follow the principle of "functionality first".

Elena became one of the few master builders in Great Britain.

She still lives here.

221b Baker Street, the third floor of this ordinary, small apartment, is also her permanent home.

The refurbished rooms are larger and more spacious, and the downstairs rooms have been adjusted accordingly, such as

"Squeak-yah-"

A relentless, saw-like sound came from downstairs.

Elena calmly picked up a pair of earplugs from the table, and stuffed them into her ears as usual.

Although the earplugs made of cotton are not very fine, at least they reduce the unbearable noise to a barely tolerable range.

Immediately afterwards, there was a sound of dressing and running out with shoes kicking, "Holmes! How do you—"

In the middle of speaking, he suddenly fell silent.

After changing her clothes, Eileen, who didn't hear the follow-up for a long time, froze for a moment.

She put on her shoes and went downstairs with the hand on the railing, but she saw Holmes in the half-open bedroom, not knowing what was going on, curled up on the sofa with an indifferent expression, wrapped in a wrinkled blanket that couldn't see the original appearance, There were cigarette butts all over the floor around them.

The strings in her head suddenly tensed.

Eileen, who has always been rigorous and advocates cleanliness, hardly wants to go inside.

Obviously yesterday, just yesterday, she helped take care of all the corners of this floor!

Elena's remaining rationality allowed her to take a few more steps inside.

Then I saw that most of the barcoded bibliographies she had carefully prepared yesterday were messed up, and the books on the bookshelf were crumbling, and some of them still showed signs of being pushed in forcefully.

With the gentle wind blowing in from the window, a few pieces of paper hanging on the edge rustled a few times and fell down.

There are still stains left by unknown liquid on it, which has dried up, and the words around that piece are dry.

She looked at Holmes and Watson who were sitting by the window.

The two seemed to be chatting about something, they didn't smoke, but they sat by the window with a piece of paper and watched intently, as if they didn't realize how terrible it was to live in such an environment.

How, what, can, fear.

Elena glanced at the table again.

The flowers she put in the bottle yesterday hadn't been touched much, but on the plate beside it was a loaded gun, some scattered bullets, and... unthrown banana peels.

The string in Elena's heart snapped and snapped.

Sherlock looked at her just as she was about to growl.

The gray eyes and cold look that pierced people's hearts softened when they saw her.

He didn't take care of himself at all today, he was wearing a casual scarf, the sides were crumpled like hanging threads, one was long and the other was short.Her hair was disheveled, and she was wearing a loose sweater and a knitted jacket, but her eyes were still sharp and compelling.

Like an adult gray wolf that hastily got out of the bed, it is still lazily coiled on the sofa, but its long hair is shaking, and a pair of alert eyes are open, ready to go out to hunt.

Elena sighed, and gradually regained her sanity.

She nodded to Holmes, and went upstairs again to change.

This time I changed into looser home clothes.

Elena didn't expect that today was a rare day off, but she had to pick up the broom, mop, and trash can to start doing housework.

It's okay, she told herself, I have plenty of time.

There are also people.

Half an hour later, Holmes was holding a rag, and Watson was holding a bucket.

The two followed Elena's arrangement without any objection, and honestly cleaned the windows.

"In my opinion, I can leave these jobs to..."

Before Holmes could finish his sentence, a rag was thrown over his head.

He closed his mouth and handed the rag to Watson who was at the side, and Watson began to clean it without complaint.

"In the past, when you were busy with work, I didn't say anything, after all, I am the same," Elena said while wiping the table nonchalantly after throwing away the rag, "Since I'm at home, let Home is a little more presentable. After all, this is 'home', it's my own home."

She picked up a plate with apple cores on it, and was about to wipe the bottom plate, but unexpectedly found a letter under it.

Elena froze for a moment, and saw that it was written "To my dear Elena Molson, my love".

She is also quite familiar with this handwriting, the style of Sherlock Holmes, always scribbled and elegant.

Elena looked at Holmes, but found that he and Watson had gone downstairs at some point.

She frowned.

Elena then took off the gloves and tore off the sealing sticker.

She fell down, and a fluffy note fell out of it.

"I'm a messy person, you prefer neatness," it read.

Elena seemed to realize something.

She stood up and took out another letter from under the dirty ashtray.

The note was also written by Holmes.

"I am loose, and probably no one can compare, but you are orderly and upright."

She stood up again and touched the pile of fallen pages.

Inside was a crumpled note.

"I was so often flushed out of my head with useless knowledge that I almost forgot how to be a husband, let alone how to be a father."

Elena was stunned.

She got up, stood next to the chemical equipment again, and flipped through the experiment notes that she never touched.

There was the sound of clattering pages, and Elena finally found a small note.

"I'm afraid I spend more time fiddling with this set of instruments than spending time on makeup, hairdos, and architecture."

Elena thought for a while, then went to touch his coat hanging on the side.

Sure enough, from his pocket, he took out a note pressed into the shape of a cigarette.

"I use smoking to relieve stagnant thoughts. You like to work in a clean and refreshing place."

She put the note aside, looked around the room, and finally looked at the violin case that had been wiped clean and placed on the cushion.

Elena stepped forward and pushed the box away.

There is a piece of paper under the violin, against the beautiful body of the violin, it is clean and refreshing.

Elena reached out and took out the note.

"I'll be honest with you about my shortcomings. I'm not a perfect person," she read softly. I'm an expert in logic and reasoning, but I don't know anything about emotions until I met you."

"I was uneasy about this relationship at first, and I thought about retreating, but you are much braver than me," she gripped the note tightly, "You jumped up and grabbed my hand, and then dragged me to the Walk on the road of 'love'."

Elena put down the note.

The wind blew over the plants placed by the window, which were sent by Elena's subordinates. It seemed that there were too many plants in the house, and they couldn't fit on the third floor, so a few pots were placed on the first floor.

She clearly saw that there seemed to be something gleaming buried inside.

Under the sun, she took out the dazzling thing that blurred her vision.

It was a sparkling ring.

"I will show you my love and hate, and show you my good and bad. I know your habits and behavior styles are different from mine, and I understand your anxiety. I will choose I leave the power to you," Holmes said calmly as he stood at the door, "I am such a person, and this is the me that loves you."

Holding a bouquet of flowers in his hand, he was still dressed in that slovenly manner, but he sighed softly, "I hope you can see this clearly, and finally choose whether to marry me and become my wife, Elena."

Watson stood a little behind him, still holding the wooden bucket used to hold the water, as if he hadn't figured out the situation yet.

Elena took hold of the ring.

The emotions that had troubled her flashed through her mind quickly, uneasiness, sadness, dullness... finally settled into one emotion.

Elena took a few steps forward and stood in front of Holmes.

She looked at Holmes and looked at him seriously, as if she was looking at every blueprint that was about to become a floor-to-ceiling building, inch by inch, sweeping over his tight lips, loose buttons, half-open chest, every inch of his eyes. Inch down, his gaze finally landed on the bouquet in his arms.

It was a carefully selected bouquet.

The flowers are blooming brightly, just like the sunshine outside, and also like the emotions that are almost gushing out of her heart.

Elena handed the ring back to Holmes, and he took the ring with his free hand.

Watson watched this scene almost dumbfounded.

He immediately racked his brains and began to think about how to smooth things over, at least not to let the relationship between the two of them break down. For a moment, he felt that it would be okay to make jokes and get this matter over with.

But I heard Elena's voice softly and slowly.

"The ceremony of the proposal," she asked, "do you remember what it was like, Sherlock?"

Holmes nodded.

He knelt down on one knee, "Miss Elena Molson, will you marry me?"

Elena nodded seriously, and handed her hand to him.

Holmes smiled and tossed the flower to Watson who was still in a daze.

Then he meticulously and carefully put the ring he designed on Elena's hand.

Immediately afterwards, Holmes held Elena's hand, "Let's go, my fiancée."

The author has something to say: Little Theater:

Standing downstairs, the earl and the butler huddled together in the broom room, twitching their mouths.

"You're smart," he said unhappily, "Why don't you know how to bribe your future father-in-law..."

Although he!Definitely is!I won't accept it!

Except for cakes.

I originally planned to write about weddings and children today, but when I wrote about the proposal, I wrote more than 3000. Uh, I will continue tomorrow. Hey, everyone!

感谢在2020-11-1300:39:31~2020-11-1400:42:00期间为我投出霸王票或灌溉营养液的小天使哦~

Thanks to the little angels of the irrigation nutrient solution: 10 bottles of tattoo burning; 4 bottles of light dill; 3 bottles of shadow;