[Shen Xia] Britannia Rose

As in the past, the weather in London was gloomy, and many big figures who once held important positions in the British government were sitting quietly in the Diogenes Club with peculiar rules, enjoying a rare leisure time.

At this moment, there was a sudden noise at the door, those high-ranking officials were interrupted from thinking, and raised their heads to look outside in displeasure. Then, the high-heeled shoes rattled on the wooden floor, and the harsh sound was so quiet that it could be said It is "Dead Silence" that stands out in clubs.

Isabella didn't have the heart to care about other people's opinions at all. She was still wearing the dress that she hadn't had time to change for the Spanish crown prince's wedding, so she just ignored the guards at the door and broke in directly.

Some big shots who were dissatisfied with Isabella's rude behavior stopped the hand that was about to press the security doorbell to ask for help the moment they saw each other's faces clearly. They looked at each other knowingly, but they looked at the princess His Highness appeared here, causing doubts.

During this period of time, Mycroft would always be in the Diogenes Club. Isabella knew it very well, so she didn't even knock on the door, and pushed open the door of McCoff's office.

Unexpectedly, the door was unlocked, and Isabella looked at the two people in the room in surprise—she even looked directly at McCoff for a second, seeing some incomprehensible complex emotions in the other's eyes, some Surprised, clear, and unspeakable difficulties.

And the one with his back to Isabella was a figure she was familiar with, with messy curly hair, even with sand and blood stains on it.

"Sherlock?!" she exclaimed in shock.

"Isabella..." Mycroft called her.

However, that figure turned around slowly, and the face was another person that she had never thought of anyway.

"..."

The man wearing Sherlock's iconic woolen coat and blue scarf is not Sherlock himself, but a man with high cheekbones, deep eye sockets, and raised eyebrows. He is three points similar to Sherlock, but his face But more feminine.

Isabella looked at the other party in shock, as if mobilizing the memory hidden in the depths of the memory that had begun to blur.

Seeing that she didn't speak for a while, just staring at him blankly, the man raised his eyebrows, and his voice was even more familiar, he said to Mycroft half-jokingly and half-angrily: "Speaking of which, I haven't settled with you yet, I handed over MI6 to you, and this is how you repay me? If I hadn’t heard Her Majesty complain to me a few weeks ago, I would not have known about the good deeds you have done.”

"..." Mycroft opened his mouth to explain something, but finally remained silent.

"Rudy...teacher?" Isabella couldn't believe that Rudy's "aunt" who taught her cross-dressing for a short time when she was young, appeared in front of her again after more than ten years of silence. .

"Is Spain beautiful? I went there 20 years ago, and the beach there is so beautiful," Rudy wiped the blood that was about to flow into his eyes, and smiled, "Long time no see, Your Highness."

"Wait... Then you are..." Isabella was even more confused, but judging from the situation, Sherlock himself should not have much problem, and all this is more like a trap set by Holmes.

"Buy Xiali some time," Rudy shrugged, and cursed secretly, "Can't your people pay more attention? They really almost pushed me into the morgue."

"...Naturally, you have to be full in acting," Mycroft smirked, but it seemed that he was regretting that he didn't push him directly into the freezer at that time. "You taught me this."

"..." Rudy choked for a moment, he rolled his eyes, turned his head and complained, "Then I never taught you to abduct the British princess back to your home."

"..."

Isabella stood in the middle of the office, feeling like she was in a Broadway theater in a trance. Two prominent men in front of her were arguing with each other like children, and she was very sure that the office before she came The atmosphere in the room was by no means so relaxed, she gradually regained her senses, and realized that the other party was deliberately gagging, just to prevent her from continuing to ask about Sherlock.

"So, what happened to Sherlock? What happened to the fake genius?" Isabella took a deep breath and asked calmly.

"Don't worry, he's still alive," Mycroft looked normal, he reached out to get a document and handed it to Isabella, "I assure you, there will be no major incidents in London."

"Really? The color of your clothes tells me that things won't be that simple." Isabella looked suspiciously at the other party's dark-colored tie and pure black three-piece suit. The serious and gloomy colors are like death Depressing.

"..." Mycroft said helplessly, "I just accepted an interview."

"Announcing Sherlock's death to the media makes it a little more real, doesn't it?" Rudy said.

"So I couldn't get through to you when I called you just now..." Isabella was in the middle of speaking.

"Interview." Mycroft took over the conversation.

"Okay," Isabella reluctantly accepted the statement, she glanced at the document in her hand, "can open the codes of all the security systems in the world? Is there really such a thing? Still using John and the others Moriarty is threatening Sherlock's safety, so Moriarty went to such great lengths just to... let Sherlock die in disrepute?"

"As far as he's concerned, it's a game," McCaw said.

"A game at the cost of one's life... defeating two Sherlock Holmes in one fell swoop," Isabella sighed, "It's really crazy..."

"High-functioning sociopaths can be geniuses or criminals." Rudy said meaningfully.

"Moriarty is dead, what about Sherlock? Where is he?" Isabella asked.

"He's safe," Mycroft answered irrelevantly. "Moriarty's power is deeply rooted. He needs the identity of a dead man to go deep into the criminal empire Moriarty left behind and uproot it."

"So... Sherlock, he..."

"Yeah, soon he's going to the Middle East, and we've got to put the show on before that."

"Moriarty's criminal empire is really not to be underestimated...By the way, John, does he know that Sherlock is still alive? I think he called me twice... Oh, and also sent a text message." Isabel Pull shook the phone.

"He didn't know, neither did Mrs. Hudson, nor Inspector Lestrade," McCoff paused, before explaining, "The fewer people who know about it, the more realistic the performance will be, and the other party will The more we can let our guard down, the safer Sherlock will be."

"Okay... as long as Sherlock is fine," Isabella was already relieved, "How long will it take for him to return to London?"

"It's a conservative estimate... two years, when the time comes, I will pick him up personally," Mycroft tapped the table with his finger, "But you, who suddenly came back from Spain, informed His Royal Highness the Crown Prince?"

"...Too urgent, no." Isabella pursed her lips and admitted honestly.

"...I'll take care of that," Mycroft sighed, "and the nice thing you and Sherlock did last time under my nose..."

"..." Isabella blinked guiltyly, indicating that she didn't quite understand what the other party meant.

"Irene." Mycroft spat out the name succinctly.

She showed a suddenly realized expression, "Your speed has slowed down, so I realized it."

"She's a big problem." Mycroft shook his head disapprovingly.

Rudy, who was silent on the side, watched the two people chatting familiarly with interest, and the casualness and intimacy in the tone opened his eyes.It wasn't until McCoff turned his gaze back to him that Rudy said slowly: "I take back my previous prejudices, there is no one more suitable for each other than the two of you."

"Prejudice?" Mycroft caught the word keenly, and he repeated it with his eyes narrowed.

"The main reason is that I don't feel at ease with you," Rudy touched his chin, "Your Highness is a student I personally taught."

Mycroft said helplessly, "Uncle Rudy."

Time did not leave too many traces on Rudy's body, but the wrinkled eyes and deeply sunken cheeks still showed that the man in front of him was no longer young. He looked around and said with emotion: "Okay Let’s not talk about that, the style of this office is completely different from the dreary feeling of Whitehall, I like this layout very much... Speaking of which, I have been away from politics for more than ten years.”

"Your departure is a loss to Britain," Mycroft said sincerely, "if you can continue to stay in the British government..."

"No, I don't need me anymore, you are enough in the UK," Rudy waved his hand, "You are much better than me back then."

"But you've been away for so long...where did you go?" Isabella asked suspiciously.

"Besides England, there are many beautiful countries," Rudy responded with a smile, "Okay, has Sherlock chosen a date yet?"

"what?"

"Funeral day," Rudy said casually, and he shrugged nonchalantly.

"Tomorrow, the sooner the better, lest you have long nights and dreams." Mycroft frowned and looked at Isabella. "I still need you to attend the funeral for me tomorrow."

"Aren't you going in person?" Isabella was a little confused.

"...No need," Mycroft said with a frozen face, unable to see the emotions in his heart, "I think some people may not want to see me."

"...?" Isabella looked at him incomprehensibly, "What... did you do again?"

At this time, Rudy suddenly let out a sneer, but McCoff ignored him. His Adam's apple moved slightly, and he was still silently staring at the decorative paintings on the wall. and self-sustaining.

"Well, you brothers..." Rudy stood up with a sigh, "This is why I chose you to sit in this seat, some things are destined to be borne by someone... Of course, this is why I finally chose to leave political reasons."

McCoff is indeed the British government itself. He operates efficiently every moment like a machine. All dangerous factors that may threaten the security of the United Kingdom will be eliminated one by one, and everything will be ranked after national security. This also includes his younger brother.

As he said to Watson, he had made a mistake, but what he didn't say was that he had to make it.

The author has something to say:

The original work didn’t show how Sherlock was so realistic that he was “dead”, so I followed my rhythm to try my best to round out the pits of the original work. The person lying on the ground pretending to be a dead body here is Uncle Rudy in disguise.