Bad days as neighbors with Sherlock Holmes

Today is not a good day.Of course, the not so good here refers to the bad weather.

The clouds in the fog city are mixed with water vapor, which is a bit damp and cold.

Some dim light shone into the hotel by the London river. John Watson, who purposely did not draw the curtains, stretched his waist and squinted at the watch on his hand.

The time is three past ten.

When the doctor got out of his bed, he shivered subconsciously.

He yawned and looked at London outside the window. The ground was a little dark, probably not long after it had rained.

"It's cloudy again," he grunted, and braced himself to go outside.

There is a distance from here to Holmes' chemical laboratory. Since we made an appointment to confirm the house together this afternoon, we must hurry up and never be late.

After finishing the lunch provided by the hotel, he hurriedly put on his coat and rushed out the door with his own gloves.

When he almost pressed the wire to reach the laboratory, the door there seemed to be open for a long time.

Watson unscrewed the handle in frustration and looked inside.

Sure enough, his new friend was already sitting in the lab chair.

Holmes was holding a newspaper and reading something intently.

Seeing Watson approaching, he quickly folded the newspaper and stuffed it into the pocket of his coat.

"Let's go," he said nonchalantly.

Baker Street.

It happened to be tea time, and Elena rolled up her sleeves and helped make tea in Mrs. Hudson's kitchen.

"First, heat the teapot a little, add a few tablespoons of tea leaves," said Mrs. Hudson, "pour in hot water, steep for five minutes, strain the tea leaves, add some milk and sugar..."

"Will this taste good?" Elena asked suspiciously while filtering the water slowly.

"Of course," said Mrs. Hudson, putting her hand over her head and giving it a little tap. "Little rascal."

These intimate words and actions made Elena blush all of a sudden.

When Elena was stirring the British tea that was more like "milk tea" than "tea", there was a knock on the door.

"It's probably a cheese and beef delivery boy. I ordered some in the morning." Mrs. Hudson wiped the water on the apron at the bottom of the hem casually, and took off the apron. "Here we come!"

Elena also put down the things in her hands and followed.

After walking two steps, Mrs. Hudson turned her head and saw her niece.

She complained, "I don't need you, go back and drink tea, Elena."

"Let me help, Auntie," Elena quickened her pace to keep up, "I'll just carry a little something."

Although Mrs. Hudson always felt that helping out with the housework was hurting her niece's caring hands, Elena believed that since she could take care of herself, there was no reason to put these housework burdens on Mrs. Hudson alone in order to save effort.

Little Tom, who came often, stood at the door, looking downcast with guilt.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Hudson," he said, drooping all over, "I spilled the milk. I think you'll have to go to the store with me, Ms. Green said. Yes, then you have to go to the store to confirm with her."

Little Tom is a child laborer employed by the Green Lime Fruit and Vegetable Store. What he usually does is deliver goods to customers who have ordered.

He is sweet and sensible, and occasionally gets some extra tips to subsidize the family.

"It's okay, honey, I'll go with you," Mrs. Hudson rubbed his head, "Just explain it to Ms. Green, don't worry."

After walking a few steps, she turned around again.

"Elena, please pay attention at home, there may be people coming, and some daily necessities I bought before may also be delivered," Mrs. Hudson said worriedly, "I'll be back in a while."

"Okay," Elena replied with a smile.

When the doorbell rang again, she put down her things and went to open the door.

Unexpectedly, there was a thin man standing at the door.

He was about 30 to [-] years old, looked serious and upright, with a dark complexion that seemed to be the aftereffect of excessive sunburn.

Elena asked hesitantly, "Hello?"

Unexpectedly, when the man saw that she was the one who opened the door, he was a little hesitant and embarrassed.

That expression is like seeing an elephant that can open the door.

Elena touched her face subconsciously.

Does she look so curious?

Watson looked at the young lady in front of him, and at Holmes standing in the distance in front of the two newspaper sellers, flipping through the newspapers.

Holmes did not respond to him.

Then he looked again at the lady who opened the door, and then at Holmes.

Still no response.

After repeating this action many times, Elena was amused.

"Well, sir," she asked dryly, "what's the matter?"

"Sorry," he adjusted his hat in embarrassment, and subconsciously said, "I may have found the wrong person."

Then he closed the door in front of him.

"...Okay? You're welcome?" Elena answered in a daze to the tightly closed door.

Watson walked quickly to the side of Holmes, and questioned his absent-minded companion.

"Holmes, are you sure it's here?" He asked in a low voice. "You said that the landlord is a widowed old lady in her 50s who lives here alone. But the one who just came out is obviously a young lady in her prime. We seem to have found the wrong address?"

Holmes looked to the side and back, smoking a cigarette intermittently, seemingly not paying attention to what he just said.

Watson coughed heavily, trying to attract the attention of the person in front of him, "Are you listening to me, Holmes?"

"I am listening, Watson," said Holmes nonchalantly. "Look, here comes our landlady."

Watson looked intently, and there was indeed a thin figure approaching in the fog.

He looked at Holmes suspiciously, stepped forward two steps, and took the things from the lady's hand.

"Thank you, sir," said Mrs. Hudson. "It's a bit of a pain in the mud after the rain."

She took a breath and turned to look at Holmes, "You are here to see the house, aren't you, Mr. Holmes? This kind gentleman is your companion?"

"Yes. This is Dr. John Watson, another co-tenant I have found," Holmes introduced to Mrs. Hudson. "I will show him the house."

Immediately afterwards, those sharp eyes swept over through the just-opened door.

"Miss Molson?" Holmes said with some surprise.

Hearing her aunt's voice, Elena happily came to open the door as if she had been caught.

"Mr. Holmes? I'm really surprised," Elena straightened her skirt without a trace, and smiled politely. "It's a pleasure to see you here again."

"You know each other?" Mrs. Hudson looked from one side to the other, also a little surprised.

"Yes, I happened to meet Mr. Holmes on the train the day before yesterday," said Elena.

She didn't expect such a coincidence that the Mr. Holmes who helped her on the train was the young tenant in the aunt's mouth.

Mrs. Hudson pulled Elena over and introduced to the two in front of her.

"This is my sister's daughter, named Irene Molson," Mrs. Hudson said, "this time I am here to accompany me in London, and I am currently living on the third floor. And Irene, these two, Holmes Sir, you already know him, and next to him is his friend Dr. Watson, who should come to see the house together this time."

Watson smiled awkwardly but kindly at Elena, "Then we will be neighbors from now on, Miss Molson?"

"It should be, Dr. Watson," Elena smiled at Watson, "I hope we get along well."

Mrs. Hudson led them to the second floor to have a look at the house. They were very satisfied with it and signed the contract on the spot.

The location and orientation of the building itself are quite good. The rooms on the second floor not only have plenty of sunshine time, but also the interior decoration is simple, not too grandiose, quite refreshing and clean, so the price is not cheap.Fortunately, the two of them shared the expenses equally, so it was much more cost-effective.

Elena was thinking about her design sketch for today, and led the two away.

Standing at the door, she caught a glimpse of the sign on the door as she waved to the two walking away.

221b Baker Street, Holmes, Landlady…

In the blink of an eye, Elena remembered a previous trip.

In her junior year, she met friends from the same department and went to London to visit together.

While she was busy looking for relevant information in the library, her friend took her to Baker Street.

Eileen's perception of novels is average, and she is not interested in these ancient and modern Chinese and foreign gossip.A friend once joked that her mind was full of architecture, architecture, architecture, and architecture.

Due to her friend's insistence, Elena bought a ticket and accompanied her to visit, but she was very puzzled when she came out.

Elena asked puzzledly, "But everything here is brand new, including the tables, chairs, benches, doors and windows outside. It is obviously not a Victorian building, so why do you think this place is real? Just because you live here A Sherlock Holmes that doesn't exist?"

"Although Sherlock Holmes is a fictional character," the friend said, "he is really charming! Everyone loves him! So they built a brand new museum for him."

"But..." Elena still wanted to speak.

"I know, stop talking about it," my friend said with a smile, "Three windows, sliding up and down, mixed, recreating classics, is there anything missing?"

What she was talking about was the typical features of Victorian architecture, and that was what Eileen just told her yesterday.

"Nope," Elena shrugged, "Maybe the year it was built? Look at the small windows of the building we looked at yesterday. Maybe it was built during King George's time. Most likely it was to reduce taxes. .”

Her secretive words made her friend laugh, "Okay, don't worry about it, the detective work is over, I will accompany you to the parliament building next door, do you want to go?"

Withdrawing from the memory, Elena subconsciously touched the stone pillar at the door.So, she came to some... fictional and real place?

She froze for a moment.

Thoughts are reorganized, shattered, and finally assembled into reality.

"No matter what," she said in a low voice, as if speaking to herself, "you still have to draw a picture."

She can't be unemployed before being employed in another world, and she really becomes the No. 1 youth gnawing on the old, right?

Looking at the two people who left, Elena waved her hands gently but mechanically on the surface, thinking about her life plan for employment in another world.

Northumberland, evening.

The Earl, who also returned home, was exhausted.

He handed the gloves and hat to the butler beside him, "How is Elena now?"

"According to your order, I haven't delivered food to the lady for three days," replied the butler.

"Very good," the count nodded. "Finally, for once, you are willing to obey my orders completely, which is very good."

His words were obviously meant to make things difficult for the servants who always treat Elena with a soft heart, but the butler turned a deaf ear to it. Instead, he ticked his index finger behind his back and signaled the servants in the dark to bring up the food.

The butler respectfully served several dishes and opened several bottles of wine.

After eating the home-cooked delicacies that he has been obsessed with, the eccentric earl finally calmed down a bit along the way.

"Hmph," said the count contemptuously, "you people—"

He poked a piece of dessert on the spoon fiercely, "I know I'm used to her."

When he was full of wine and food, the count touched the top of his head that was getting thinner and then his belly that was getting wider.

He thought a little sadly, fortunately his daughter was willing to admit his mistake.

Marriage is obviously a good thing, and it can't be better.

Not only can she avoid those idiots' messes, but she can also avoid her father's bald professional inheritance.Not to mention that she has money and leisure, wouldn't it be nice to be a lazy person comfortably?

If it doesn't work, widowhood is also negotiable.

and many more.

He hesitated to call the housekeeper, and asked hesitantly, "Is she willing to admit her mistake? Why hasn't she come down to eat yet?"

The butler bowed to the count as if nothing had happened.

"No, miss fled to London, bought a ticket overnight."

The Count's face turned green.