Bad days as neighbors with Sherlock Holmes

"It's nice," Elena tried to calm herself down, "but don't you think it's a bit..."

She could not continue, for Holmes leaned half on the table and moved closer to her.

"What?" asked Holmes, leaning on the table with one hand.

The silver plates and cups on the table clattered with his movements, but he looked into Elena's eyes and asked again intently and reverently, "Isn't it pretty?"

Holmes' body was mixed with the mellow aroma of red wine, and it enveloped Elena like the woody aroma from his long-time smoking belt.

Elena's face flushed red.

She didn't know if it was a hint, or if it was just a subconscious gesture of Sherlock Holmes' drunkenness, but it was too close.

Far beyond the safe distance she subconsciously kept from other people.

Elena and Holmes met each other's eyes, and could hear each other's breathing for a while.

She clearly understood that her heartbeat was really abnormal, her face was still hot, and this time she couldn't use "temporary obsession" to explain it.

She was afraid that if she got closer, something bad would happen.

Elena held her breath, leaned back, and tried to bring the topic back, "It looks good, but I suggest you buy it yourself—"

At this moment Holmes interrupted her without hesitation.

"I didn't hear it," he said confidently, "I just think this one looks good."

He waved the shiny ribbon on his hand again.

The lavender ribbon couldn't match his wrist, but he just raised his hand triumphantly, letting it bathe in the lights of the roof, "It's pretty."

Where does it look good? !Did he drink too much, and even his aesthetic level has dropped?

"Mr. Holmes," Elena raised her voice slightly, reminding him again, "That is my ribbon, Mr. Holmes..."

She didn't care about being shy, "You took the hair tie away, what should I use to tie my hair?"

Holmes quickly put the ribbon in his arms into his arms, so fast that he didn't look like a drunk person.

He put the ribbon properly, and then happily replied loudly, "Now it's mine!"

Just as Elena was about to continue talking about aesthetics, someone pulled her slightly from behind.

She turned around suspiciously, and found that the man was actually the Earl.

"Forget it, forget it," the count persuaded reluctantly, "don't bother with him."

He pulled Elena, and said in a low voice, "We—you can't beat him, it's just a hair tie, just let him go. I'll buy you another one later."

Elena paused.

"Father, why are you here?" she asked subconsciously.

She didn't notice that Holmes, who was leaning on the table behind him, also stopped his movements.

He met the earl's eyes and froze for a moment.

The Count had actually been here some time.

This time, he also happened to meet his client for dinner at the Claridge's Hotel.

At first, he was flipping through the documents at home, but the bell beside him rang sharply.

The butler who was standing beside him stepped forward and pulled the rope, and after a while, someone delivered the telegram.

The Count stuffed a biscuit into his mouth before reaching for the telegram.

But almost choked on the above information.

"'Your daughter has reserved a seat in my shop today', look," complained the count, "does that seem like something she would do? I'm glad she's not in the office, and she's still there." Remember to go eat?"

The butler took the telegram and glanced at it calmly.

"Should be true," he replied.

"The sun must have risen from the west—" complained the count.

He got up, intending to look at the itinerary for the afternoon, and then paused, "Who is she having dinner with? Is it for two people or three people?"

Naturally, such things would not be written on the telegram.

The butler glanced at him and said cautiously, "My lord, I remember that you happened to have a client at night, and it was the Marquis of Berkeley who wanted to have a dinner with you—"

The count nodded.

"Let's fix it at the Claridge's," said he, "and I'll go and see..."

Find out what it is that hooked Elena's soul off the building.

When he arrived at the hotel, the count found out that Elena invited her two neighbors.

The two neighbors probably made an appointment for a meal by the way.

The earl immediately lost interest and turned his attention to the Marquis of Berklitz who was having dinner with him.

"Eat more," he said enthusiastically, and pushed the plate in front of him again, "the French cuisine here is very good, but there are some dishes that you must not know for the first time. Especially this quail egg chicken pie, Fragrant and full-bodied—"

The Marquess of Berkleys had placed a considerable amount of commission on him, and he could be warmly entertained by the Marquis, who usually stayed in the north of England and rarely came to London.

Otherwise, how to build a good relationship with this rich Marquis?

After eating like this for a while, the Marquis, who was sitting upright and looking serious, frowned.

He looked back at the position at the side and rear, and seemed a little displeased, but due to his upbringing, he didn't say much.

"What's the matter, Marquis of Berkleys?" The count looked up at him, and hurriedly swallowed the food in his mouth, "What happened?"

That position seemed to be where Elena and the others were sitting.

Did something happen that he didn't see?

"Now these young people are really," the Marquis of Berklitz said in a deep voice, "it's becoming more and more outrageous."

As he spoke, he glanced over there again, but slowly frowned.

"That lady..." he asked hesitantly, "I seem to have seen it before."

The count nodded.

"It's my daughter," he said a little proudly, "and now she is also the only architect in the British architectural circles."

"Then they are..." the Marquis of Berklitz asked suspiciously.

I have never seen my daughter eating with two men, but my father is sitting here seriously.

Is this the new fashion in London?Has he fallen so far behind?

"It's my daughter's neighbor, and I have some contacts with her," the count replied habitually. "It should be an appointment to have a meal."

"But," the Marquis of Berklitz twitched his lips, "that young gentleman opposite your daughter seems to be interested in her."

He looked at the young gentleman who was pouring himself a drink, and then at the unaware Earl Molson, wondering for a moment whether he was playing dumb or really didn't know anything.

The count looked up subconsciously.

"What?" He still remembered to keep his airs, and tried to ask calmly, "Who are you talking about?"

The Marquis of Berkley gave him a surprised look.

What, so both of them are?A new fashion for Londoners?

"The young gentleman," he answered, unable to restrain another glance at Lord Molson.

What does it mean to hide deeply? This is what it means to hide deeply.

"You mean the young one?" The count frowned, "No, that's absolutely impossible."

He said affirmatively, "Probably the two have similar interests. I know that young gentleman has also decided to dedicate his life to work."

"Also? Who else?" asked the Marquis of Berkeley.

He realized that the Earl didn't seem to have thought of this layer at all.

"My daughter Elena," the earl said proudly and a little sadly, "although I did not agree, but she is indeed working hard in this direction, and only then can she have a place in the architectural world at her current age."

Alas, the daughter is trying too hard to make it look like his father is so incompetent.

...Well, I hope she will work harder, the family office is still waiting for her to inherit it.

The Earl now hopes that Elena will take home the RIBA Architecture Medal every day, and then come back to inherit the family business.

This was the agreement he made with Elena at the time, but until now, he couldn't help but want to take a vacation!

Is it uncomfortable to go to the countryside, find a place with beautiful mountains and clear waters, away from human habitation, and then plant flowers, sleep and drink tea?

The Marquis of Berkleys now felt that the Earl was really stupid.

"But," he could not help saying, "the way he looked at Miss Molson—"

"That's right," the earl echoed knowingly, "it's full of compliments for people of the same kind."

In the eyes of the Marquis of Berkeley, this is completely wrong.

The Marquess of Berkeley thought that Earl Molson was blind.

This is obviously love!

"But you see," he retorted, unable to resist pointing in that direction, "he seems to be flirting with Miss Molson."

He spoke so bluntly and bluntly that the count stood up immediately.

"If you insist on saying that, I can only warn you to pay attention to your words and deeds," the count said angrily, "you are slandering my daughter's reputation!"

"Then what about their actions?" the Marquis of Berklitz asked.

The count shook his head, "You still pay too much attention to the surface. I want you to understand that your current speculation is simply absurd!"

He personally led the Marquis of Berklitz to the side, "Come, take a look."

The Marquis of Berkley looked left and right, and could only see the two flirting.

He moved his lips, but saw the count showing a sad expression.

"Look," said the count, "my daughter, who has her hair tie taken away, is still trying to reason with him."

What a kind girl, although she likes to urge (force) people to work a little bit, she is still a good and innocent girl.

Standing in a corner, the count couldn't bear to listen any longer.

Unexpectedly, Holmes would like beautiful headbands when he was drunk. Such a strange preference is not at all different from his elder brother who loves sweets.

It's not good to snatch someone's, but I just snatched the one from Elena, which made her angry.

Isn't this looking for a fight?

The count wanted to scold Holmes, but he was a little apprehensive when he thought of his powerful fighting skills.

This guy is drunk, what if he hits him?If Elena helped him block it, he would be reluctant.

Forget it, take a step back, the sea and the sky are bright, and the family does not lack money for a ribbon.

What's more, with the family's financial resources, it would be no problem to mobilize the whole of London to find a ribbon of the same style, and there was no need to argue with drunks about it.

The count left the Marquis of Berklitz standing aside, stepped forward, grabbed Elena, and persuaded her.

Then he met Holmes's pair of sharp eyes that were slightly squinted, but the usual sharp eyes, and a corner of the ribbon protruding from his arms.

The count shuddered and came to himself suddenly.

"No!" he said loudly. "Little Holmes, you are not drunk!"

The author has something to say: Earl: Maomao is vigilant.

By the way, this ribbon stalk is what my roommate told me hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha my roommate my roommate told me about it Face

感谢在2020-10-2600:57:36~2020-10-2622:18:23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 who cast the deep water torpedo: 1 of my cats;

Thanks to the little angels of the irrigation nutrient solution: 10 bottles of Dolphin; 2 bottles of Shenbi; 1 bottle of Qianluo; thank you very much for your support, I will continue to work hard!