Bad days as neighbors with Sherlock Holmes

Hearing this, the Count slapped the table violently.

Then he burst out laughing.

"You have been asleep for a long time," said the count with a smile, "you haven't woken up yet, Mr. Zacharias?"

He didn't take this as a real thing at all. Instead, he thought it was Zakaria who didn't wake up, so he ran to him and started trying to sell him a favor.

Just kidding, is he so easy to deceive?

Mr. Da Zakaria waved his hand.

"No, I'm full of sleep, Your Excellency," he lowered his voice, "I said it, but it's true. Not only me, but my son Jessler also saw it."

Realizing that this person might really seriously want to get a fortune from him, the Earl's face darkened.

"Your son?" he asked.

"Yes, my son," replied Mr. Da Zakaria.

"Then isn't this your relative?" The earl snorted, "Of course he said everything according to you."

He put the empty plate in his hand on the table, wiped his mouth with the prepared linen cloth, then nodded to Mycroft and said goodbye to him, picked up the suitcase and planned to leave.

Seeing that he was about to leave, Mr. Zakaria quickly stamped his feet.

"Oh," he hurriedly grabbed the earl, "Your Excellency, you must trust me, I'm serious—"

The count mercilessly shook off his hand.

"Impossible!" He said firmly, "You want to lie to me? It's not that easy!"

The earl yelled so loudly that the other people in the store raised their heads from their booths and looked over.

Mr. Da Zakaria looked around nervously.

"You can listen to it and then wonder if I've lied to you, sir," he said. "The thing is, after my son and I had a dinner party, there was a..."

It was a night with a clear moon and few stars, and the scattered moonlight was engulfed by dark clouds and sprinkled on the gravel road clearly.

Mr. Da Zakaria was smoking a pipe and still smelled of alcohol.

He and his son walked out of the gate of the opera house slowly, intending to go home in their own carriage.

"Jessler," Da Zacharia took a breath, "don't do this kind of thing next time."

He exhaled a ring of gray smoke, which quickly dissipated under the dim lights of the opera house and became part of the air.

Little Zacharias didn't answer.

He kicked the flower bed next to him sullenly.

"Answer me," Da Zakaria's voice became severe, "Promise me, don't do this kind of thing again."

He said, "Your mother pampered you, but I..."

The young Zacharya raised his hand and stopped his father's words.

"Look there, Father," he lowered his voice, pointing up.

On the highest terrace of this opera house, there are two people standing.

The distance was not too close, but it was barely discernible that it was a man and a woman. The two seemed to be tired from standing, and sat down cuddling each other.

"It's just a lover's appointment," Da Zakaria said indifferently, "it's nothing unusual."

His son was such a fuss.

"But," little Zacharya shook his head, "who is this?"

"Who?" Big Zakaria asked.

Seeing that the hair on his son's forehead was almost wet with sweat, he clicked his tongue in disgust, "You should pay attention to your personal hygiene, my son, no one likes a sloppy heir."

"Miss Molson, and that detective!" Little Zacharia said almost in disbelief, as if his heart was broken.

These two people are about the same height as the two of them, and they are the only ones who are still stranded in the museum.

Then the next moment, something that broke his heart even more happened.

The shorter man took the initiative to move closer to the taller man's face.

It seemed that with this kiss, the figures of the two overlapped.

"Ah, here," Da Zakaria was a little stunned.

Thinking about the small business opportunity in his heart, he asked slowly, "Does Earl Molson know about this?"

He couldn't wait to tell Mr. Earl about it.

"My son and I saw it with our own eyes," Da Zakaria emphasized. "I can't lie to you, Your Excellency!"

He spoke with such certainty that the Count almost believed it.

At this moment, a voice that he will never forget came from behind him.

Elena said affirmatively but helplessly, "Father, there is no such thing."

The count breathed a sigh of relief, "That's good, that's good."

"What the hell is going on?" he asked.

Elena handed the dessert to the earl, and then sat down.

Mycroft on the side left without knowing when, and Elena sat in his place.

"Let me speak slowly," Elena looked at the Earl who seemed very curious, and said helplessly, "The person you saw kissing was probably not me and Mr. Holmes, but Miss Adler and her lover. .”

"Then what were you doing at that time?" the Count said with a low face. "You're not at home, are you?"

Elena paused.

"Yes, I was there," she admitted.

Rewind the clock to 11:30 last night, on the other side of the theater.

Elena and Holmes were indeed looking at the moon too.

However, it was completely different from what Zakaria and his son imagined. They were not on the terrace, but in the lounge.

The two were not alone either. Elena, Sherlock, and Watson, from left to right, half-lyed on the railing, looking at the moon that seemed extraordinarily bright tonight.

"I hope we can go out sooner." Elena leaned against the wall and couldn't help yawning, "I'm sleepy."

They were stranded too late at the opera, and the key was with the gatekeeper.

Although it is not impossible to pick the lock... But it feels wrong to pick the lock and run away rudely when you can wait for someone to come.So the three of them simply looked at the moon here to pass the time, waiting for Miss Adler to go downstairs.

Although this matter was entirely proposed by Elena and Watson, Holmes felt that the two were wasting their time, but he still reluctantly accepted it.

That's what happened.

Holmes and Watson bid farewell to Scotland Yard after catching the prisoner, and returned to the Opera House to search for clues and review the whole incident.

The two watched as they walked, and by chance they met Elena who was sitting alone in a corner in the lounge, with a blank expression on her face.

So Watson strode forward and walked to Elena's side.

Elena almost raised her head when she heard footsteps.

After that incident, she was always a little nervous in a strange place.

Seeing that it was Watson approaching, she almost cheered up.

Elena moved a place for Watson with a smile, and then took out the cup next to her.

Holmes, on the other hand, followed Watson slowly. He absent-mindedly looked at the bouquet behind Elena, and began to think.

The bouquet of flowers was placed beside Elena, as if she was carefully caring for it, pity and cherish it.

...Given to her by someone very important?

He let himself put aside those fermenting and turbulent strange emotions, carefully observed the details, and returned to the rational and rigorous path.

It is a bouquet of roses, which should have been picked not long ago, still with a little natural fragrance and water vapor.

The man must have come here after taking the bouquet on purpose. There were a little crease marks on it. He came in a carriage and went through several bumps on the way... The map of London was very clear in Holmes' mind, and he knew it like the back of his hand.

Not to mention, this bouquet of flowers should not actually be a gift from Eileen's suitor, but from an ordinary flower shop located at the intersection. The lawyer is obviously very cautious about this, and carefully carried it in his bosom all the way.

The singer Irene Adler who had a good relationship with Eileen was obviously the owner of this bouquet of flowers.

Holmes did not say a word until he deduced with his own wisdom that the bouquet did not belong to Elena.

…although this is only for a few seconds.

Watson next to him sat down very naturally and chatted with Elena.

"Hey," said Watson, "Miss Elena, why are you here?"

He shook the notebook in his hand and said optimistically, "We have just concluded a case!"

Their case itself is quite ups and downs, enough to make up a wonderful story.

Watson was very pleased with this, and his pen was eager to try.

"Oh, that's great," Elena said with a smile, "it must be very exciting, right?"

She put down the book in her hand, got up and poured a cup of tea for the two, "Then you can rest here for a while."

"And why are you here, Miss Elena?" Watson took the tea and asked curiously, "I don't think you are someone who likes to stay outside."

"Because Miss Adler's boyfriend came to visit unexpectedly," Holmes interrupted abruptly.

Elena glanced at Holmes in surprise, and then laughed again, "You are right, Mr. Holmes."

"Miss Adler's boyfriend is here temporarily," she explained, "it's on the upper terrace. The two probably have something to talk about, so I'll stay here and wait for a while."

Holmes looked at Elena who was explaining to Watson.

She didn't seem nervous about waiting for someone, even though it was actually quite late and alone here.

While explaining, Elena felt that Holmes was looking at her.

This made her a little uncomfortable.

While Watson lowered his head to drink the water, Elena turned to Holmes.

"What is the matter, Mr. Holmes?" she asked. "You seem to have been watching me?"

Holmes paused.

"Yes," he admitted frankly, "I might try to see something else by observation."

"You can ask me directly, Mr. Holmes," Elena refilled a cup of tea for him, "maybe you don't need to be so polite. I don't think it is difficult to answer these questions."

Holmes shook his head.

"You're... a person I can't see through, Miss Elena," he said.

He is still thinking about what the so-called "different world" refers to, and the side that Elena always shows seems to vaguely imply something related to the "different world".

Her sense of detachment from her surroundings, which Holmes once classified as "the pride of genius", now thinks about it, this is probably because this is not her hometown.

"Is there anyone you can't see through, Mr. Holmes?" Elena raised her eyebrows.

She said jokingly, "I thought you were omniscient."

Holmes shook his head.

"No, I'm just a mortal, not a saint," he replied almost a little seriously, "Even if I have extraordinary talent and hard work——I'm still an ordinary person, and ordinary people make mistakes."

For all his pride in his abilities, he has always understood that he is a human being, not a machine.

No matter how sensible you are, mistakes are inevitable.

Elena bent her lips.

Indeed, human beings are not machines, even if they are really wound up and do things on a regular basis, they are still no match for the accidents accumulated bit by bit.

"Maybe you're right," Elena said instead, "Sometimes, I can't even see myself."

The topic turned back to Elena, but she didn't lie.

What is entangled in her body is the memory separated by nearly 200 years, blurred and heated and fused, conjuring a pot of unknown soup.Plus Moriarty's hint, Linde's hands and feet, and his own problems...

Elena herself didn't know what this pot of soup tasted like.

Probably salty, bitter, mixed with a little sour taste.

It might be very difficult to drink.

Elena sighed softly, "But it doesn't matter, I just know why I'm moving forward."

The moonlight in front of the window fell on her softly, covering her with a layer of silvery light. For a moment, Holmes even felt that she would just leave like this.

"Why are you advancing?" repeated Holmes.

Before Elena could answer, he said, "For your own ideal."

"Aren't you too?" Elena looked at Holmes, "For the justice in your own heart."

So he became a "consulting detective", earning a little bread and milk by relying on these things, and using his own unique way to interpret the justice in his heart.

"There is always a need in the world to bring criminals to justice," said Holmes, evading the question. "I am only assisting."

Although he said so, Watson noticed very keenly that the back of Holmes' ears were slightly red.

Holmes' face was also unnaturally red, just like... when he was praised with Elena before, he seemed a little shy.

Eileen looked at Holmes again with a little scrutiny, looking at this young gentleman who was always sharp and calm, but now slightly restrained those sharp edges, appearing a bit gentle.

"Are we of the same race?" she asked softly. "There are many geniuses in the world, Holmes."

The uncertainty in her heart was actually greater than that certainty.

This is a simple but direct temptation.

Holmes avoided the subject with a polite silence.

And Watson in the middle looked left and right, but still didn't understand what the two were playing.

"Today's moon is very beautiful," he simply interrupted the two of them, and suggested cheerfully, "Why don't you go out and look at the moon?"

Then the clear and crisp sound of the door being locked rang out with the same joy.

Several people shouted a few times, but the gatekeeper never heard it.

The other key was in the hands of Miss Adler, but the three of them looked at each other in blank dismay, and none of them wanted to go up and interrupt Miss Adler.

"The prisoner was caught, and we were locked in because we came back to reconfirm the whole story," Watson quipped with a sigh. "I hardly know whether to write this up or not."

He took out his small notepad, "Just write it like this. On a certain day in a certain year, because Mr. Detective decided to go back to confirm what happened, and then forget himself to chat with his neighbors, a group of people were locked inside."

After finishing this long list, Watson also yawned.

"Maybe you're right," he said sleepily, "I think I miss the big bed in 221b too..."

Comfortable cushions, soft beds.

It's... wait, they can obviously go out by themselves!

After making eye contact, the two looked at Holmes, the only one among the three present who could unlock the lock.

"Maybe, we can use some external force?" Watson asked tentatively.

Holmes was silent for a moment.

"Maybe it would be better for you to accept my offer sooner next time," he said under his breath.

"Then you picked the lock and ran out?" The count looked Elena up and down in disbelief, "Are you all right?"

He was only worried about whether Elena was injured.

"It's nothing," Elena shook her head.

She still remembered what it was like when Holmes led her into the car after running non-stop.

Gentle, warm and powerful.

The author has something to say: holding hands, but not kissing

The [-] words are still not finished/Sigh, I will explain the details of this chapter in the next chapter and ask everyone for a leave. The latest update is probably not stable. I am currently in the drawing week, and the pressure is relatively high and there are many things_(:з "∠)_

I have been busy until [-] or [-] o'clock recently, and the update is estimated to be at one or two o'clock in the next morning. If I can't sleep, it may be gone. The QAQ will break [-]. I will update it when I submit the picture later!

感谢在2020-10-0600:37:32~2020-10-0701:47:55期间为我投出霸王票或灌溉营养液的小天使哦~

Thanks to the little angel of the irrigation nutrient solution: 1 bottle of Qianluo;

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