Bad days as neighbors with Sherlock Holmes

Holmes looked up and glanced at Watson, who was full of curiosity.

"So what?" he asked simply.

Watson gasped.

"So you..." He looked Holmes up and down a few times, "I can't tell!"

I didn't expect Holmes to have such an ambition!

Watson was almost in a state of confusion.

It's not that Holmes is worthy or not...For him, Holmes is naturally good, but in Miss Molson's situation, everyone will think that Holmes is superior.

Thinking of this, Watson sighed.

Just as he was thinking about whether to add bricks and tiles to help create a good atmosphere for the two, or to try to persuade Holmes to be rational, Holmes laughed briskly.

"Huh?" Watson raised his head in confusion, and met Holmes' playful gaze.

Only then did he realize that he had been tricked by Holmes again.

"Holmes!" said Watson a little annoyed, "so what is it?"

His roar shocked many detectives upstairs, and many people poked their heads out of the room one after another, causing Watson's voice to drop suddenly.

Holmes shrugged his shoulders and turned the handle of the room.

"Come in," he waved.

Watson hurriedly followed, "So, Holmes—"

Holmes closed the door briskly, took out gloves from his pocket and put them on carefully.

"Of course not," he made a "shh" gesture, "Come in, Watson, don't keep thinking about this, it's time for us to start working."

Watson's surprise deflated like a popped balloon.

He sighed, "Yes, Holmes."

outdoor.

"Do you think..." Lydia didn't seem to be affected by the guards around her. She poked the little Brut who was buried in the drawing beside her, made a gesture, and asked in a low voice.

She felt that the atmosphere between the Countess and Mr. Holmes seemed not right.

Little Brutt said in a deep voice, "I think so too."

Not only is it wrong, it is simply very wrong.

He sighed again, "Actually, I've long felt that..."

It wasn't the first time that the two of them felt that something was wrong, but everyone thought it was a pure friendship, and the person involved seemed to be unrequitedly in love with work and never looked back, so they didn't think much about it.

Lydia was shocked, "The earl didn't—"

She clapped her left and right fingers together and made a "forbidden" gesture.

Speaking of this, little Brut wanted to sigh.

"Who knows?" he said a little sadly, "he doesn't like... that more than... this."

In order to refer to it more clearly, the "this" little Brut in the front uses a thin index finger, and the "that" in the back uses a shorter and fatter thumb to refer to the figure.

"No way?" Lydia shouted in surprise, almost being discovered by Elena.

She quickly shrank her head and drew a picture honestly.

But this couldn't stop the stormy waves in her heart.

What?Why did the earl find Dr. Watson more attractive than Sherlock Holmes?

Finding that Elena had devoted herself to the drawing, Lydia couldn't help but wrote a note and threw it to Little Brut next to her.

Little Brutt froze for a moment, caught the unfolding, only to realize that there was a sentence on it.

The note reads "But 'this' is obviously more handsome than 'that'".

Um?Is Sherlock Holmes handsome?

The little Brut who said this sentence was a little unhappy.

He picked up the pen, wrote a few strokes in a subtle way, and then threw the ball of paper back.

Lydia couldn't wait to unfold it, only to find a line of words crookedly written on it.

It's okay to write ugly, Lydia read it for a long time, but couldn't figure out what little Brute wrote.

She read the note over and over several times before she managed to figure out what was written through the cracks.

"'Pass me a note, that's all you want to say', what are you writing?" Lydia angrily rolled up the note and smashed it on little Brutt's head, "Asshole, you wrote The words are too bad!"

What's more, it's not to gossip with him, otherwise?Does he want to talk about something else?

Elena was wearing a windbreaker and heard these words after collecting the last sketch.

She put on her clothes and stood up, "What's wrong? Let me see."

She had just noticed that the two were chatting quietly and deserting.

I thought it would be good to chat for a while, but I didn't expect it to get worse?

"I'm sorry," Lydia quickly apologized, "I didn't write anything—"

Before she could finish speaking, she was interrupted by Little Brut.

Little Brutt sighed slightly, and looked up at Elena.

"No, it's nothing," he reproached himself, "it's really my fault, and it's nothing to do with Miss Bennet. It has nothing to do with her. Sure enough, I'm not as good as Miss Bennet. I don't like writing very much and I'm a bit lazy. It's all my fault for the ugly handwriting, Miss Molson, don't blame her."

Lydia became angry when she heard this.

What do you mean it has nothing to do with her?

These words are obviously all her fault, if you want to punish her, punish her!

She didn't want to show up, so she secretly thought that she must go back and draw a big circle in his sketchbook later.

And the little Brutt on the side still doesn't know what scene he will face.

He looked at Elena sincerely and affectionately, hoping that the Countess would favor him this time.

It's a pity that little Brutt's words didn't affect Elena.

She reached out her hand calmly, "Give me the note."

Little Brutt tightened his grip on the note.

"No, no, Miss Molson," he said reverently, "you can scold me if you want to scold me, and you don't need to read the note..."

Elena gave a brief order, "Give it to me."

Little Brutt reluctantly twitched for a long time before handing over the thing he was holding tightly in his hand.

Elena unfolded the crumpled note, and frowned when she saw Little Brutt's words.

"What's the matter with your word?" She frowned and asked, "I remember that your previous word was not like this."

She didn't care much about height, but just stared at little Brut's twisted and twisted characters.

Winding and circling, it doesn't look like words, but like strands of hair glued together.

Is this really a word that humans can write?

Little Brut covered his face pitifully.

"I recently bought a collection of newly popular newspaper clippings," his weak voice came from between his fingers, "then I copied a paragraph from the print on it, and I can't change it back..."

He didn't mean it either!

It's just that there is a new love poem on it, which is very emotional, and he didn't hold back, so he freed up to fill his own...

Before she finished speaking, Elena rolled up the things in her hands and knocked on them one by one.

"Okay, I won't hold you accountable for your short errands," she sighed, "Since you don't draw now, you can do it when you go back. Add two more and give them to me tomorrow."

These words are regarded as one person hitting a stick.

Before the two of Brutt could give a response, Elena put the clothes on her hands, walked back to the painting that was not completely dry, lifted the painting, and compared it with the scene on the painting Where it actually corresponds.

She looked up and down and confirmed that there were no major mistakes, so she put the painting down, and she was a little disgusted with the darkness inside, "I don't think it's good to hang it inside. Do you want to move it outside?"

"I don't think this is a good idea, it will be blown away," said a familiar voice.

There was a crisp click of boots stepping on the leaves behind her, and Elena turned her head.

"I'm back," Eric said a little coldly.

Elena looked up at him, "Did you find anything?"

She looked around Eric curiously, but she didn't seem to notice anything, except that his clothes seemed a little dirty.

"Nothing," Eric said simply. "I almost caught the man. He seemed to be coming back from the direction we came from. I think there must be something wrong in the direction we came from."

Elena nodded thoughtfully.

She covered the semi-dried painting with a layer of sulfuric acid paper, then stood up, "Did you tell Inspector Grayson the news?"

"It's been said," Eric replied.

After a while, he casually asked, "This windbreaker is...?"

"Mr. Holmes lent it to me," Elena replied indifferently, "What's the matter? It's really cold for me to draw outside, so he lent me the windbreaker, and I'm planning to return it."

She gathered up the long windbreaker again, letting it hang more neatly on her arms, "Should we wait for them to come now, or what?"

"We have come down," said Holmes abruptly.

He was walking quickly down the winding stairs, and he looked at Elena who was sitting downstairs with eagle-like eyes. He glanced twice and felt something strange, but without thinking much, he put At present, the energy is turned back to the case that is being pursued.

"Ah, Mr. Holmes," Elena said pleasantly, "it's just right, then I don't have to make another trip."

She handed the windbreaker in her hand to Holmes, "Here. Thank you so much for the windbreaker, but since I have finished drawing the picture, I don't need it for now."

Her words were almost out of place.

Who would run to return the clothes to him when it was obvious that the prisoner hadn't been tracked down yet?

Holmes frowned, and his doubts deepened.

"Are you going back?" Holmes threw the gentleman's staff vigorously after leaving these words, as if he was looking for something.

"Yes," Elena saw that Holmes's pace was getting further and further away, and she had to say loudly, "I'm planning to go back first, this place may not be suitable for drawing."

These words were heard by Inspector Grayson who had just come down from upstairs.

"It's better not to go back, Miss Molson," Inspector Grayson said loudly as he panted after Holmes, turning his head. safer."

Watson behind him also persuaded, "Yes, it's too dangerous to leave."

Elena thought about it, but she gave up the idea of ​​going back immediately.

She sighed, and looked at the three people around her asking, "What do you want to do now?"

Then Elena pointed to the album at hand, the meaning was obvious.

Is it a landscape sketch, draw the scenery of this area, or an architectural sketch, draw a picture of the small building next to it?

"We think, ah, we think..." Little Brut stuttered for a long time, and caught a glimpse of Holmes who quickly lifted the manhole cover and turned over.

He replied without thinking, "I want to see what happened over there!"

Elena showed a faint smile.

She is not a person who doesn't particularly like to laugh, but every time she laughs, she has a wonderful contagion, as if it can resonate with people, and she has a relaxed and natural feeling when she laughs.

Little Brut held his chest that was beating wildly, thinking blankly, the emotion of this infection is also in place.

Then I heard Elena's calm reply, "Add five more sheets for homework."

Little Brutt begged to no avail, so he had to accept.

Well, now he knows why his heartbeat is too fast. It's not because he thinks that his emotions are in place at all, or he just reacts naturally when he encounters something frightening.

but…

Help, why do I add homework again! !