Bad days as neighbors with Sherlock Holmes

The next day, Elena woke up in her bed on the third floor.

The memory fragment is in the place where the crackling charcoal fire and the low-pitched chatting intertwined last night. Why did I not only return to the bed in the bedroom when I woke up, but also took off my shoes and socks, and fell asleep comfortably?

There was the sound of the carriage creaking beside her ears, and Elena rubbed her forehead in a daze.

She opened the gauze curtain, and a gust of not-so-fresh but cool enough air rushed in.

The noisy voices from outside flooded into the room in an instant, Elena sighed, and drew the curtains again.

When she went downstairs to prepare dinner, Holmes and Watson were already sitting below.

She glanced at the two of them in surprise.

Watson usually went to bed late like her, and got up late, and basically ate in the living room on the second floor. It was rare to see him come down for breakfast today.

"The weather," complained Watson, "I hardly feel like going out. What's the point of being alone in London?"

Holmes ate the bread on his plate slowly, without making a sound.

After a while, he seemed to suddenly think of something, instead of eating slowly, he almost ended the meal quickly.

Then he sat quietly in his position, knocked on the armrest of the chair lazily, and thought about something else.

Elena pulled her chair away, and started to eat breakfast in silence.

She simply finished her breakfast and was about to get up and go back upstairs.

"Miss Molson, if you plan to post the letter first, I suggest that you hurry up and go to the appointment," Holmes said suddenly. I will be late. I plan to go to the postman in a while, and I can bring the letter there for you."

Elena froze for a moment, then rolled her eyes.

This smile is not the usual smile of ladies, but more like a child's satisfied and contented look when he sees desserts, revealing a bit of innocence.

"Thank you, Mr. Holmes," Elena said quickly, "Since this is the case, I'm a little tight due to time constraints, so I won't ask you how to find out."

She went straight up the stairs, returned to the room, handed Holmes a package of letters, picked up her bag, opened the door and left.

Holmes carefully placed the letter on the table beside him, frowning.

"So, Holmes," Watson asked curiously, "do you see anything in it?"

He still vividly recalled last night's brilliant reasoning, "Can Miss Molson make it?"

Holmes shook his head.

"Not yet, Watson," he said flatly. "It is most reckless to reason without evidence."

Elena looked up at the relief carved with God's creation above the door.

Standing at the door of the office, even though she had been rejected many times, Elena still inevitably became a little nervous.

She lowered her head and looked inside from the side window—the resplendent hall was empty, not even the cleaning maid was there, only a little boy was guarding the door.

Hearing that she is coming to London, her father's student - also a former friend of hers, Darko Mox, specially wrote a letter of recommendation for her, recommending her to work here.

This architectural firm was not her goal. It was too big, too traditional, and too deep-rooted. The firms I came into contact with a few days ago were almost all small and medium-sized firms with not many people. She was willing to let her have a try. jobs like architects.

But the failure came too suddenly, so she had to come up with a backup plan and come here to try.

Pushing open the door and entering, the boy guarding the door raised his head.

He asked skillfully, "Who are you looking for, ma'am?"

"I'm looking for James Joseph Barrod," Elena said, "I'm Elena Molson, here to apply for an architect. Wait a minute, I'll look for a letter of introduction."

When she rummaged through the letters in the bag, the boy froze for a moment.

"Ma'am, are you sure you have an appointment with Mr. Barrod?" He said, "You know, Mr. Barrod is indeed famous for being a romantic man, but he can't promise the position of architect casually..."

Before he could finish speaking, he was interrupted.

Someone bumped into the boy heavily with a book in his arms. Seeing the boy let out a hiss, he laughed out loud.

"Hey, little Tommy," he said maliciously, "you actually trust a woman to apply for an architect?"

"The lady said she had a letter of introduction," explained the boy named Tommy. "I'm at work, Charlie, can you leave me alone?"

"Fake," Charlie said without hesitation, "how could anyone recommend a woman to come here? This is the largest architectural firm in London! It must have taken something to fool you again, trying to help her lover sneak in and steal something, Don't you..."

A slender hand shook the letter in front of him, and the envelope with the private seal immediately made Charlie choke.

Tommy looked over and over, and then handed the letter back to Elena.

"Excuse me, ma'am," he said politely, "Mr. Barold's office is in Room 102 on the third floor. There is a sign at the door. Go upstairs and keep to the right."

Elena nodded towards him, not paying attention to the offense of the person next to her, and walked towards the place Tommy pointed.

Charlie recovered from the signature of the letter.

"Even with Mr. Mox's letter of recommendation, this application won't work," he said enviously. "Who would want a woman as an architect? Build a house with tears and love? No one would Buy it."

He was complaining vigorously, but Elena turned around suddenly, which startled him.

"Not to mention whether I have shed more tears than you," Elena said coldly, "With your words, can it be better?"

She simply asked, "What's your name?"

"Charlie," Tommy replied for him, "Charlie Neruda, I'm sorry, ma'am, please don't be angry, he just has a bad mouth..."

"Whether to hire me or not is Mr. Barrod's business," Elena interrupted him. "As for this Mr. Neruda, please take care of yourself."

She glanced critically at the manuscript in Charlie Neruda's hand, "Still an apprentice? Did you draw it?"

Charlie subconsciously puffed out his chest, "It's me, what's wrong?"

He was waiting for some ladies' usual admiration or surprise, but he didn't expect Elena to play her cards differently.

"Weak hands, loose lines, no creativity, rote copying, inaccurate colors, and poor aesthetics," Elena said truthfully, "If I were you, I would be ashamed to go back and practice quickly, but you still have the heart to criticize others , who gave you the courage?"

"I..." Charlie choked, "That's better than your drawing!"

Maybe this woman hasn't even seen a few of the paintings, but she is here to say something wrong with him, she must be jealous!

Elena gave him a strange look.

He dared to speak wild words without even seeing her paintings.Is it because she can't keep up with the trend of the times, or is this person taking too much medicine and losing his mind?

"Your brain is not working well, let the doctor show you," she said flatly, "Don't give up the treatment."

Elena turned and left, and walked upstairs.

"Talking to children is a waste of time," she grumbled under her breath, "enough time for me to draw a solid sketch."

"You can joke, Miss Elena," said a voice, "you're still a child."

Elena looked strangely in the direction where the voice came from.

Even my two neighbors only called her Miss Molson, what was this guy trying to do by calling her Elena?

"You're more interesting than I thought, Miss Elena," the voice continued. "I'm really getting more and more interested in you."

There was an unexplained intimacy in this voice, and it also conveyed a familiar greasiness.

Elena said with some hesitation, "You are?"

A blond man stood by the armrest and nodded slightly towards her, "James Barrod, that's the one you want to see."

He naturally walked over here and leaned against the railing near Elena, "Your beauty really makes this place flourish. Miss Elena, how does it feel to be here?"

Elena thought for a while and asked, "Do you want to hear the truth or lies."

While leading Elena to the meeting room, Barrod stared at Elena with his green eyes praised by the women as "waves on the Danube".

"Tell the truth," he said slowly, "although I am willing to listen to all your lies, but people always want a little truth."

Unexpectedly, Elena didn't understand what he was deliberately implying at all.

"It's pretty bad, especially that apprentice," Elena replied honestly, "I've never seen such a hardworking person, even a monkey can do better than him, at least the monkey knows that he has to work when he gets a banana .Is this the case with all kids nowadays, or is it just that he doesn't know his own level?"

Looking at the stunned Barod, Elena roughly understood.

She said sympathetically, "You guys have worked really hard."

After chatting with the young apprentice, she almost had a preliminary estimate of the firm as a whole, probably not at a high level.

If she hadn't known that it was probably a coincidence, and hadn't been deliberately exposed by the firm, and had arranged to meet today in advance, and she couldn't break the contract, she might have gone out and walked back by now.