Bad days as neighbors with Sherlock Holmes

While Watson and the earl were chatting, Elena was flipping through her notebook.

She didn't care about the earl's tricks of stuffing money at all, and she didn't bother to pay attention to the debate between uncle Ben and aunt about her "true identity".

A piece of blank paper is filled with interesting structures, delicate and slender or huge buildings appear vividly on the paper.

Looking at these things, Elena seems to have returned to the time when she was still an intern. Even though she has become an architect who is capable of being independent, she still cannot forget those days.

She never forgot that hard work can make up for one's weakness.I couldn't afford to enroll in hand-painting classes, so I borrowed the school library to copy and paint bit by bit, and slowly filled in the sketches that I was not strong at; I couldn't afford expensive watercolor paper, so I used it repeatedly, and the cheapest pigments were perfected. Her drawing skills are now par excellence.

But... tricks are just tricks.

The pages of the book flipped, until the last page, there was a line of scribbled words, which was written by Linde before.

"What are you doing, Elena?" Mrs. Hudson came up, "Watching..."

Seeing that line of writing, she put her hand on Elena's shoulder, "Eileen? What's wrong with you? Don't worry about this—"

Before she finished speaking, Elena shook her head, and threw the book in her hand into the burning fire without any haste.

"I didn't pay attention to it, Aunt," she explained softly, "I just thought I had made a stupid mistake."

The past and present youthful fame seemed to dazzle her eyes.

She was too superstitious about her own success, and instead ignored other things.

The design cannot be built by practice, what is needed is her own ideas, it is unrealistic to blindly reproduce the real scene, after she has mastered the basic painting skills, what she needs is not to strengthen it, but to throw the brush away Lose.

The words of the university teacher still echoed in her ears.

"Deliberately focusing on skills is useless," the teacher once said, "You have to know what you are designing and why you are designing. Architecture is not a simple artistic element. Its beauty lies in the fact that it is the closest thing to art and reality. What you need to do is to measure the distance and scale between the two.”

In the modern age where people are impetuous, Elena wins with her hard work and talent. She is praised for her craftsman spirit, hard work, meticulousness and no routine. There is a distance.

This time she seems to have touched a little boundary, so let's start by throwing away the sketchbook.

Deconstruction, minimalism, if she tries to approach the apex of this direction, it is not the best way to rely too much on expression rather than deliberation.

She should be thankful for this disaster.

Elena looked at the tongue of fire and licked/licked the book until it disappeared, and there seemed to be some flames jumping in her eyes.

"I think I need a little change," Elena said firmly. "Maybe I should even thank Moriarty and Lynd for that."

No matter what their starting point was, they really told her how to go down.

"What?" The earl heard this as soon as he walked over.

He subconsciously looked at the notebook burning in the fireplace, and could vaguely see some traces.

The count asked in disbelief, "The book was thrown away? Who did it? Crazy?"

"Me," Elena replied.

The count took a step back, and looked around Elena again.

"Shouldn't you have been dropped?" the earl asked in surprise, and then quickly looked at Mycroft, "Mr. Holmes—"

"No, no," Elena explained sincerely, "Father, you are overthinking it. I did it myself. I just burned a notebook."

She just threw it herself, really.

"But you threw away your sketch book!" The earl exclaimed, "Eileen, please talk about something, don't get excited."

Then, almost impatiently, he picked up the copper tongs beside him, trying to fish it out.

Elena drew pictures when she was a child, and the notebook was accidentally stained with oil from eating snacks.

Then he cried heart-rendingly, destroying the world, and once caused him to have a psychological shadow on dim sum. Of course, the end period was the next day.

As the count moved, he still did not forget to explain to Elena very quickly, "I just gave Linde money to send him to surrender, and he should be squatting in Scotland Yard by now, don't get me wrong Elena, I didn't mean not to love you. I gave him money because I was familiar with his character, and he probably turned himself in. Don't be sad—"

It seemed that he was really afraid that Eileen would misunderstand him, so he did it in one go without pausing, for fear that Eileen would become disheartened and abandon him if he was too late for a second, and he would become a lonely old man.

Elena took his hand, "Father, I'm serious."

"I think it's time to make some changes," she said softly, looking at the Holmes brother who was walking aside, and shaking the hand that had been with her for so many years, or was still related to her life experience pebbles.

What, make a change?

"Are you going to change careers?" the count blurted out, "It's not necessary. Not at all."

Thinking of today's culprit, he became ruthless, "Don't worry about Moriarty, I know where he is, and if I kill him, you won't have to worry about him in the future."

"Father, how do you know where Moriarty is?" Elena frowned, "Are you serious?"

"Yes," Uncle Ben replied on behalf of the earl, "I guess he also seriously wants to try to make Moriarty die laughingly, so as to avoid future troubles."

"Who are you talking about laughing people to death?" The earl was immediately distracted, "Weston, can you say it again?"

"You," said Uncle Ben without thinking.

The count was furious, and planned to argue.

But when she found that the two were arguing again, Elena couldn't bear to look directly and turned her head.

So childish.

At this moment, someone patted her shoulder lightly from behind.

"So, Miss Molson has already chosen her future path?" Mycroft asked with a smile.

He didn't say what the specific path was, but Eileen had a rough idea of ​​what he was going for.

Elena nodded affirmatively and spread her hands.

"I don't need it," she said, "I didn't and I don't need it now."

What it can bring to Eileen is nothing more than disputes and power.

Elena is not short of money.

Although it sounds very tempting to control someone's soul, Elena doesn't desire to control other people's souls either.

For her, mastering the souls of others is better than using architecture to shock the souls of others.

"Architecture is the container of life," Elena thought for a while, and then replied, "I hope others will cheer for the 'container' I created, and that's enough."

She smiled and said, "I don't demand anything else, and I don't want to yearn for anything else. I'm already tired of living, and there are leftover things mixed in on the way to realize my ideal, which is the biggest challenge to me as an idealist."

"Are you sure?" Mycroft looked at her deeply and asked again, "Once you make up your mind, there is only one way left."

He said softly, "I suggest you, maybe reconsider?"

Elena shook her head, and was about to answer, but the stone in her hand was taken away by another person.

Sherlock picked up the pitch-black stone in Elena's palm, but the dark stone set off his slender fingers with well-defined joints.

He looked at this unremarkable stone for a while, thinking that this was the culprit that caused the dispute, he laughed amusedly.

Then without hesitation, it was thrown into the box that Mycroft brought.

"Okay," Sherlock said almost perfunctorily, he smoothed his hair back casually, and looked at Mycroft, "Mycroft, you have finished your things, when are you leaving? I remember today too Party day at your little club?"

"Do you have an appointment?" Elena looked at Mycroft, "Then I won't bother you, please go to work, Mr. Holmes."

She thought that Mycroft was rarely free, and that he was coming from Scotland Yard so he could ask how the hapless fellow was doing.

Noticing her gaze, Mycroft, who had already taken a few steps towards the door, turned back again.

"Why, does Miss Molson regret it?" He straightened his trench coat, "Then, in fact, we can give it a little grace—"

Elena shook her head hastily, this unlucky thing can stay as far away from her as possible.

"I won't keep you," she blurted out.

Mycroft laughed again, he glanced at Elena, then at his younger brother next to him, waved his hand, and planned to go downstairs.

After walking a few steps, he turned around again.

"Oh, I forgot to mention," said Mycroft, "one of your two competitors was excluded from the candidate list due to unfair competition, and the other was beaten by a 'criminal' who has now turned himself in. Dazed, I don’t know what he saw, and he is now clamoring to quit, and has obtained the approval of the construction committee.”

He deliberately paused, glanced at Sherlock's expression, and then couldn't help laughing again.

He deliberately told the news first, and now his reaction is quite interesting.

"Congratulations, Miss Molson," Mycroft said with a smile, "By the way, Moriarty won't find you again in the future, you have my guarantee. Congratulations stay next time, I'm temporarily If you have something to do, let's go first."

He turned back, took off his gloves and shook hands with Elena, glanced at Sherlock's strange expression, and left with a big laugh.

Elena was overwhelmed by the pie that fell from the sky.

The point is, it's not an apple pie or a brand-name pie, but her favorite kind of pie.

A museum that fell from the sky and became her personal project.

Isn't there any need for competition? ?

She stared blankly at Mycroft who turned back, shook hands with him blankly, and watched him leave blankly.

His face was expressionless, but there was an air of bewilderment from inside to outside.

"...Me?" After Mycroft had already exited the gate, Elena pointed to herself slowly, "Me? What?"

She has no qualifications and no reputation, so how could it be her?

"Don't worry," Sherlock casually put down the book in his hand, found a place and lay down.

He put his hands behind his head and looked at Elena, "Because you already have a lot of things. You don't lack experience, strength, and fame. You just lack a few works that are enough to make you a household name." .”

Elena is not a fledgling architect, nor is she a student who has achieved nothing.

She has undertaken a lot of buildings in the family office, which is quite important in the eyes of many people, not to mention that the earl has not broken with her, she has strength, reputation, and background, and what is lacking is only some independently hosted works. This was not an accidental result, and neither was Sherlock.

Elena responded blankly, "Oh, good."

She is still a little confused now...

"You can," Eric, who was standing on the side, also said.

He said with a bit of arrogance, "Even if you can't do it, I'm still here."

"Oh, good," Elena said subconsciously.

She wasn't actually listening, she didn't listen at all, and her mind was still a little confused.

As if the goddess of luck finally began to take care of her, as an unlucky person with a 90.00% chance of winning the lottery, Elena even felt that the world might be crazy.

Or is she crazy?Oops, could it be that she is crazy?

The Earl walked away from Mrs. Hudson who was distributing the biscuits, and approached again.

"What?" He vigilantly glanced at the two people sitting very close, "What are you doing?"

"Oh, good," Elena agreed.

The count began to doubt his ears.

"What did you say? What's good?" He asked blankly, "Are you alright, Elena?"

Shouldn't you be scared stupid?Or mad?

The Earl didn't know that his mental journey actually overlapped with that of his daughter, and he just wanted to shake her off now.

"I'm talking about Elena being chosen to be the chief designer in charge of the design of the museum." Uncle Ben came over with a biscuit in his mouth, and glanced at the count with disdain, "I heard it from farther away than you."

"Oh, so," the count subconsciously replied, "it's pretty good."

Then he realized what Uncle Ben had said.

"Why didn't I know?!" The count said in surprise, "I reported to the construction committee the one who tripped Elena up! Why wasn't I the first to know?"

Uncle Ben pouted at Sherlock.

The count immediately looked at Sherlock clearly, "Is that you?"

"It's Mycroft," Sherlock said flatly, eyes closed, "not me."

He never cared about such things.

"That's your family too," the count said excitedly. "Thank you so much! Thank you and your whole family! May God bless you all!"

He rushed to shake hands with Sherlock.

Unexpectedly, Sherlock reacted in a timely manner, picked up the cane on the side, and stuffed it into the earl's enthusiastic hand.

Touching the rough material of the wooden cane, the earl subconsciously looked down.

He was at a loss.

what is this? ?

作者有话要说：感谢在2020-09-2723:56:45~2020-09-2821:55:28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: 1 bottle of Qianluo and Miaoling;

Thank you very much for your support, I will continue to work hard!