[Shen Xia] Britannia Rose

When the little black car was parked steadily on the side of the road, and the guards standing around were staring at the familiar little black car vigilantly, Isabella and McCoff looked at each other for a second, and the two pulled the latch respectively, She knew that it was time to start a new round of pretending to be unfamiliar.

Mycroft was going to see the "old friend", while Isabella, holding the corgi, turned and walked up the stairs to her room.

The weather is indeed very cold. Isabella opened the soft white curtains. In the small garden downstairs, the industrious gardener is holding the big scissors and trimming the branches of the pine trees. These pine trees are endowed with various graceful shapes. Wait to be draped in gorgeous streamers and lights on Christmas Eve.

According to the usual practice, the long tables in the restaurant on Christmas Eve will be full. What Isabella said to McCoff in the car was by no means an excuse.Maybe she should think about what to give Mycroft for Christmas?

Isabella pushed open the balcony door, and the pine scent in the air was stronger than she had imagined. In a trance, she remembered the first Christmas Eve since she could remember.

At that time, she naively thought that there really was a Santa Claus in the world.

Isabella chuckled, and the first snowflakes that came to announce the news slowly fell on her eyelashes, and Christmas Eve came in a sudden heavy snow.

The corners of the already magnificent Buckingham Palace are hung with colorful celebratory balls and shiny light belts, even the corgis raised by the royal family are no exception, with red and green patterns on their chubby necks choker with bow.

The pine trees cut in advance decorated almost every hall, Santa Claus and reindeer dolls, yellow bells and delicious candy canes adorned the Christmas tree. Isabella smiled and looked at the youngest child of the royal family - her nephew George prince.

"Honey, you can't eat this, it's fake." Prince William took the plastic donut from Prince George's hand, and took the reindeer hat from the princess's hand and put it on for him.

"It's so cute, let me guess where you put your Christmas socks? Is it on the bedside?" Prince Harry, dressed as Santa Claus, squatted down and teased the little prince.

"Yes! Are you here to give me a gift?" The little prince blinked his eyes and looked at him expectantly.

"All obedient children will receive gifts. What is your wish?" the princess asked softly.

"Hm...a lot! Then I need a lot of Christmas socks..."

The little prince's innocent words amused His Majesty the Queen who sat on the sofa and looked at him lovingly. She picked up an unopened pack of red Christmas plush socks and asked with a smile, "Are these enough?"

"Of course! Thank you, grandma." The little boy staggered forward with his short legs and a reindeer hat on his head.

The little prince unwrapped the wrapping paper clumsily, pulled out a plush stocking embroidered with a Christmas wreath, looked around, grinned and stumbled towards Isabella.

"Give it to me?" Isabella looked flattered as he stuffed the sock into her hand.

"Merry Christmas!" said the child with a smile.

"Merry Christmas, dear, I have a present for you, under the big Christmas tree." Isabella kissed his chubby cheek.

The grand Christmas carols sounded on time. Everyone was intoxicated by the beautiful melody of the violin. The flames in the fireplace crackled and crackled the firewood. Only Isabella was absent-minded. She secretly glanced at the clock. on point.

The night is as deep as water, and the snowflakes are falling one after another, like an elf who has fallen into the mortal world.

The little prince suddenly opened his mouth and sang Christmas carols together. His immature voice broke Isabella's wandering thoughts.

"Wewish you amerry christmas!

Wewish you amerry christmas!

Wewish you amerry christmas!

Anda Happy New Year!

Good tidings webring to you your kin.

Good tidings from christmas and happy newyear.”

……

Pall Mall.

Mycroft sat by the warm fire, always alone in the happy moments of family reunion.

But he doesn't look lonely, or maybe he just thinks so. His pride makes him happy to enjoy solitude, and he withdraws from a high place to look down on all living beings calmly and rationally.

It was not yet the end of the royal family's Christmas banquet, and Mycroft waited silently. The lively atmosphere in the palace was in stark contrast to the monotony in his room.

Isabella is surrounded by the royal family, and even Sherlock has found friends, and has a Christmas party at 221B tonight, but Mycroft doesn’t think he’s envious. He’s used to looking down on the goldfish from the beginning to the end, watching them lust for power and materialism Fighting to the point of bleeding, watching them die because of the pain of parting from life and death...

However, maybe he still has a little bit of loneliness deep in his heart.

As much as his intellect didn't want to admit it, the fact that he himself was getting used to having Isabella by his side, and that Mycroft turned off the lights made it less obvious to him what Isabella had left behind at his house. Traces - such as the high heels thrown around in the hallway and the colorful hair ropes on the coffee table.

At this time, in normal times, he should still be reviewing those endless documents in Whitehall, but tonight is Christmas Eve, and he specially gave Anthea a holiday.

He also didn't want to be alone in the office to deal with those matters during this happy time.

Staring at the only source of light and fire in the dimly lit room—the flames dancing in the fireplace, Mycroft looked gloomy, as if he was thinking about something very important.

When the phone rang, he looked at the caller ID and pressed the answer button slightly surprised, "Oh, dear Lord, you are calling to wish me a Merry Christmas, right? Has our country promulgated a new policy?"

Sherlock's deep and serious voice came from the phone: "I think you have to go to Irene Adler tonight."

"We have known her whereabouts for a long time. Although you kindly mentioned something, it's a pity that it has nothing to do with you."

"No, I mean, you have to find her body."

Sherlock hung up the phone very simply. Mycroft stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows and looked at the snowflakes flying outside the window expressionlessly. The road was covered by heavy snow, and the window was as quiet as ever. A winter snow seemed to pull him back to the indestructible iceberg. Mycroft turned his back to the warm light in the room, and his eyes were condensed with intractable cold ice.

When the brothers arrived at the hospital, it was already 09:30 at night.After Sherlock called, Mycroft urgently retrieved all the eligible female corpses that day.

"Only this corpse fits the description, so I transferred her here, your second home." Mycroft held a small black umbrella in one hand and strode toward the morgue.

The female forensic doctor Jasmine also greeted her. The road from Baker Street to the hospital was covered with snow. She changed the beautiful dress and makeup that she had carefully dressed at the party, and put on her white coat again.

"Jasmine, there's no need for you to come too." Sherlock said.

"It's okay, everyone is busy with Christmas, uh, she's a bit disfigured," Molly continued after a pause, "maybe a little hard to read."

The shroud was lifted, and Sherlock glanced down at the corpse.

"Is it her?" Mycroft asked.

"Show me your body." Sherlock said indifferently, not caring how much his words were thought-provoking.

"It's her." After saying that, Sherlock turned and left.

The atmosphere suddenly became awkward.Mycroft turned his eyes away from the shocked and sad expression of the doctor's lady. Maybe Sherlock is the best in the field of hurting people.

"Thank you, Miss Hope." Mycroft said distantly, and he turned to leave.

"Who is she?" Jasmine immediately stopped him and asked incredulously, "Why did Sherlock recognize her just by her body?"

It was a difficult question to answer, and Mycroft gave her a resigned smile without replying.

"Only this one." Mycroft walked into the cold corridor of the hospital, raised his hand and handed Sherlock a cigarette.

"Why?" Sherlock asked.

"MerryChristmas." Mycroft said, standing behind his brother, smiling.

"Smoking indoors, isn't it a violation of... a certain law?" Although Sherlock said so, he was very honest. He stuffed the cigarette into his mouth and let Mycroft light the cigarette for him.

"This is a morgue, and smoking won't hurt a lot of people," Mycroft said. "How do you know she's dead?"

"She has one thing, she said she will rely on it for the rest of her life, but now she is giving it up."

"Where is this thing?"

Sherlock didn't answer, he turned his head to look at the weeping family members outside the glass door, the doctor told them the news of the death, the loss of their loved ones made people feel heartbroken.

"Look at them," Sherlock said indifferently like a spectator, "with such deep affection, have you ever thought that there might be something wrong with us?"

"Life will end, leaving only a broken heart..." Mycroft sighed, not knowing whether he was warning Sherlock or reminding himself, "Love is useless, Sherlock."

"Really? A man who is going to bring his girlfriend home tonight told me so?" Sherlock couldn't help mocking, "Does Isabella know what you think?"

Mycroft's eyes were dark, he was silent for a while, and said, "She is an exception."

"You have more and more weaknesses, Mycroft," Sherlock puffed out the smoke ring, "I hope these won't kill you in the future."

"NO, I just hope that I won't kill them." Mycroft said softly. His sensitive identity meant that the people around him could not have a smooth life.

Sherlock frowned and said, "Oh! These are low-tar cigarettes," before the subject became more and more serious.

"Well, you don't even know her very well."

"Huh," Sherlock snorted lightly, turned and left, "Mercroft, Merry Christmas, friendly reminder, it's already 10:30, if you want to arrive at Buckingham Palace before eleven o'clock, don't waste any more time. "

"Thanks for the reminder, and happy new year."

Looking at Sherlock's back, Mycroft seemed to remember something, and raised his voice and asked, "Are you going home tomorrow? Mommy called me three times in the afternoon."

Sherlock didn't reply, maybe Irene's death tonight was really a big shock to him.

But is the notorious THEWOMAN really dead?

McCoff was silent.

The author has something to say:

原作这里的麦哥真的好孤独啊（虽然他可能并不在意）感谢在2021-07-0800:20:15~2021-07-1020:49:38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: Liuli Chemeng, Helen Meljolin 10 bottles; Xier 1 bottle;

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