Bad days as neighbors with Sherlock Holmes

Even though she thought so, Eileen obviously couldn't say it out loud.

She asked flatly, "Who are you?"

At this time, Mr. Brut also got up and strode towards this side.

"Please allow me to introduce you, Miss Molson," he said quickly, "Behind you is my ineffective nephew, Hank Brutt, the only remaining architect in the firm."

After explaining, Mr. Brut pulled his nephew over and wrapped his arms around his.

"Be quiet, Hank," he squeezed his voice through his teeth, "If you mess up this matter, don't do anything in the future, just go to the street with me to sell flowers."

"Oh, no, how could I," Mr. Brutt also replied in a low voice, "I'm too happy to make trouble."

Then she showed her white teeth to Elena, "Nice to meet you, Miss Countess. You look like Artemis, the moon god, descending from the mortal world. The mortal Oraiwen really admires you."

He puffed out his chest with some complacency, feeling that his metaphor was just right.

Comparing the countess to the young girl and the beautiful moon god Artemis, she praised her appearance and highlighted her charming temperament and her natural noble status.

And comparing himself to Poseidon's son Olewin, on the one hand, expresses his admiration, and also metaphors his heroic, handsome and handsome.

Such a subtle use of Greek mythology is worthy of him.

Before Elena answered, Uncle Ben stared at him sharply.

"Pay attention to your words," he said coldly, "and your restless eyes."

Little Mr. Brutt was taken aback, and then he felt a little wronged, "Who is he, Miss A...Molson?"

He originally wanted to call Miss Countess Elena directly, but under Uncle Ben's stare, he swallowed the word aggrievedly.

"My relatives, they came here with me to have a look," Elena said with a smile, quickly skipping the topic, "So I don't need to introduce myself again?"

"Oh, yes," said Mr. Brutt Jr. "uncle told us yesterday that you would be coming."

He tried to change the subject, "Your relative? I really envy him to be by your side."

It's a pity that his flexible flattery failed to attract Eileen's attention.

She hummed, "Let's talk about something else, like work. You like Greek mythology?"

"Yes," Mr. Brut Jr. replied affirmatively, "I bought the whole set at home."

He glared at Uncle Ben with a little trepidation.

"Then what about Greek architecture?" Elena continued to ask, "Since you have an architect qualification certificate, you should also know a lot about it?"

She saw sharply that the architect's assistant who seemed to have arrived a long time earlier was holding a pen, writing something on the parchment.

"Hmm—" Mr. Brut Jr. got stuck.

He can't really say that he doesn't know anything.

Although he graduated from a serious college, all the knowledge was returned to the teacher a few years ago.

This knowledge includes but is not limited to architectural knowledge.

But isn't looks alone enough to be attractive?

He touched his face in a daze, "I can't remember right now..."

"Sturdy, practical, beautiful, my dear lady," said the architect assistant, looking up, "or the Parthenon."

Then he put the paper in his hand down concealedly and carefully.

"But Vitruvius was a Roman," Elena shrugged, "although he did study Greek architecture."

She pulled over the manuscript hidden by the architect's assistant, "But of course, this answer is already very good. What's your name?"

"Thomas Hardy," the architect's assistant, startled by the unexpected, reluctantly replied.

It was too late and did not dare to stop Elena's hand, Hardy showed a somewhat hopeless smile.

Is there anything more frightening than being found out by your new boss at work?

Tell you to talk too much!

Elena glanced at the general content for a while, and frowned.

Based on her own literary quality, this is indeed a good novel, written quite wonderfully.

But

She lightly threw the thing on the table, "Mr. Hardy, I think you should know, is it working time?"

Hardy blushed and didn't know what to say.

"A little, um, hobby," he excused himself in a stumble.

Just when Hardy was racking his brains to say something else, his boss, Mr. Brut, rubbed his hands and relieved him.

"Actually," interposed Mr. Bruit, "we don't know what we're going to do yet."

He spread his hands, "We have always followed the orders of the architect who left - after all, I am a layman, and Hank is like this again..."

"But I think this architect's assistant is good enough?" Elena spread her hands.

She felt as if she had fallen into a pit.

The head of the firm who knows nothing, the only architect who looks rather fancy, and an assistant who is keen on part-time jobs.Seemingly uninitiated enough, it might take a while to make them well-trained.

"Yes, ma'am," replied Mr. Bruit, "he was the former architect's assistant."

Then he shrugged, "And the former architect left very simply, and paid the liquidated damages very simply, although I thought he would take Hardy with him."

"Yes," interrupted Mr. Brut Jr. mockingly, "'A little less makes a difference'④."

He thought anxiously and bitterly, why did this assistant architect catch the countess' attention so much?

This sentence was the last time Mr. Brutt heard Hardy say it, and Hardy had always been taken care of by the former architect, so he could only be superficially polite to the nephew of the person in charge.

Now is the time to beat the dog in the water!

Elena didn't notice Mr. Brutt's words at all.

"Anyone else?" she asked.

"Well, yes," Mr. Brute said calmly, pulling his nephew behind him.

Then he introduced other employees in the firm, including odd jobs, typists, and sanitation workers.

After hearing this, Elena sighed slowly.

"Okay," she said, "then let's start working. At present, we will start with the sketch of the plan, conceive the customer's requirements, come up with the plan first, and then finalize the specific details when we go to the site for a few days, is that okay? "

As the evening approached, Elena took a look at the billowing red clouds. The cool wind was blowing, but she only felt physically and mentally exhausted.

Uncle Ben made an excuse to leave on another street, so Elena got out of the carriage by herself, and after opening the door, she collapsed on the restaurant seat on the first floor, not wanting to move.

She always loved her work, but this time she was a little overwhelmed.

She had to handle every detail, and Elena couldn't remember how many times she lost her temper today.

The door was unscrewed again, and a neatly dressed Sherlock Holmes and Watson came from outside talking.

Then I saw Elena who looked extremely tired sitting in the dining room.

"Why, Miss Molson," said Holmes, taking off his gloves, "you look a little tired."

"Yes," Elena replied casually, "I just came back from the London Zoo."

She rested her face in her hands and let out a breath.

"Really? That's awesome. I've been in London for so long and I haven't been to a zoo yet," Watson took off his hat and asked curiously, "Is there anything particularly interesting there?"

Elena thought about it.

"I don't remember," she said weakly, "except for a peacock showing off its power and having an empty belly."