[Shen Xia] Britannia Rose

Rainy day in London, England.

The woman sitting by the window in the coffee shop has spent almost an afternoon here. There is nothing in front of her except a cup of Latte Latte and a small dish of sugar cubes. Unlike other customers, she has both She didn't come to the coffee shop for work and leisure, nor was she here to wait for someone to talk about things. The woman just sat on the seat empty, staring at the drizzle outside the window that didn't know when it stopped.

Since Sherlock's "death", Isabella has rarely set foot in Baker Street, and like Mycroft, both of them have begun to keep everything about Sherlock secret.

Mrs. Hudson has been so stimulated that she hasn't come out yet, and she doesn't want to find a new tenant for 221b.

In the two years after Sherlock's death, the people woke up and began to blame each other, pushing the responsibility for slandering Sherlock Holmes onto others, as if they were too wise to be fooled by Moriarty's lies.

At the same time, various conspiracy theories emerge in endlessly. Some people think that Sherlock is not dead, that the corpse is Moriarty who has changed his face, and that the real Sherlock has already escaped from the secret passage by climbing the wall with ropes; Dr. Sheng was hypnotized and mistakenly identified the corpse as Sherlock.

The coffee shop on the downstairs of 221b has become an asset under the name of Isabella a few years ago. Even after McCoff secretly placed agents in the coffee shop several times, she also assisted Sherlock to transfer people to the cafe many times. To watch the midnight shift.

This was the first time she had set foot here since Sherlock's death.

It was still raining outside the window, but no one was holding an umbrella on the road.

The waiter who is busy greeting the customers at the counter has two things to do. He not only has to complete the customer's order, but also pays attention to the distinguished customer sitting by the window—the real owner of the store and his immediate boss, Holmes. Mrs.'s wife is also Her Royal Highness Princess of the British Empire.

Isabella came out of the memory palace, sealed everything about Sherlock, picked up the coffee cup, and took a sip of the cold latte.

According to the feedback from the agents under McCoff, the military doctor spent a long time in psychological counseling, moved out of 221b after a long treatment, and started his new life.

Isabella didn't bother Watson any more. Sherlock's old friends had better not show up as much as possible. No one wanted to talk about sad things anymore.

The waiter who was wiping the counter was still debating whether to change Isabella for a freshly made latte, while the new guest turned on the TV beside him.

"After the police investigation, Richard Brooke has been confirmed to be Kim Moriarty's fabricated identity. As soon as the conclusion came out, there was an uproar in the court, and all of Sherlock's charges have been cleared..."

"Unfortunately for the detective who became popular two years ago, it all came too late, and people are questioning why the police let things develop to this point."

"Sherlock jumped to his death from the top of Barts Hospital in London. Although he left no last words, his friends said it was possible."

Isabella cast her eyes on the TV indifferently. The attendant was startled and frantically tried to turn off the TV, but she shook her head slowly. Seeing this, the attendant could only obediently let the report about Sherlock come out from the TV .

"Isabella."

Hearing someone call her name, she turned her head, and what she saw was a familiar but slightly haggard face, the furry chestnut brown hair like a teddy bear and the tired and sharp eyes were still in harmony. Same as two years ago.

"John," she said.

Isabella was not surprised that Watson would appear here. In fact, she spent half a day sitting here just waiting for him.

"I.... I passed by outside and saw you sitting here. I thought there might be something to say..." Although he concealed it well, Watson still lacked the vigor and sharpness of the past. Now he is more like a shell that has lost his soul.

"It's raining again, it's very suitable for reminiscing about the past." Isabella said softly, she waved her hand, and the attendant who was standing by immediately trotted over.

"Yes, old things." Watson took a deep breath.

"Two more lattes." Isabella ordered in a low voice.

Watson did not refuse her offer, he pulled the chair opposite Isabella and sat down.

"I read about you in the newspaper, and the person who wrote the report didn't say so, but we can all guess who the government official is, right?" Watson said.

Isabella remembered that it was a gossip report about her new love published in the "Sun" a long time ago.

"exactly."

"So... do you know about everything Mycroft does?" Watson's voice became very low and depressed.

"Yes." Isabella met Watson's gaze frankly.

Watson pursed his lips tightly. He noticed that the plain silver ring on Isabella's left ring finger was very low-key and compact, and it was exactly the same as the one on Mycroft's hand. Of course, he would not foolishly think that it was Just a decoration.

"What about you? How have you been these two years?" she asked.

"Good, not good," Peanut twitched the corner of his mouth forcefully, "I'm going to propose."

"Really? With whom?"

Isabella was very surprised, even though she had already known the identity of the woman through McCoff's message.

"My colleague, Mary."

"Congratulations, I think if Sherlock is still here, he will be happy for you." Isabella said with her eyes down.

"Thank you, uh... People always look ahead, don't they?" Watson laughed at himself.

"Yes."

Just after Isabella finished speaking, she felt the phone vibrate a few times, and she smiled apologetically at Watson, and she clicked on the mailbox.

"I have something to do in the field, I may not return to London in the near future, please pay attention to your own safety. - MH"

The British government, which is firmly seated in London, is willing to leave the UK. There must be some major event. Thinking of the two-year deadline, Isabella knew it.

"Is it time for someone's vacation to end? Then let him think about how to explain it to John when he comes back. ps: I personally think that Serbian is still difficult, and I suggest you start learning it now. ——Isa"

Returning to the desktop of the mobile phone, Isabella’s screen saver is a photo of her and Mycroft. In the photo, the two are sitting on a white bench in front of the Taj Mahal, with an intimate posture. Isabella is wearing a white skirt suit, sideways He was holding the arm of the man beside him, and Mycroft was still wearing a three-piece suit, but the style and color were more solemn than usual. The expression on his face was as proud and reserved as ever.

It's just that the slightly softened eyes and the corners of his lips still revealed his joyful mood.

The Taj Mahal has a special meaning for Isabella. When Princess Diana and Prince Charles were separated in the cold war, Princess Diana once went to the Taj Mahal alone, and was lonely in front of the Taj Mahal, which symbolizes love. Sitting, reviewing his embarrassing love.

And this scene happened to be photographed, and people called it "the lonely princess".

A few years ago, when Prince William took Princess Kate to visit India, he took a group photo on the bench in front of the Taj Mahal to commemorate his mother.

So when she learned of Isabella's itinerary to India, a smart man like Mycroft naturally knew what she wanted to do.

Isabella hadn't mentioned it to him, knowing that McCoff was almost never on the field.

But that day she got her wish and saw Mycroft carrying a suitcase on the plane.

In front of the Taj Mahal, which represents love, they finally left this precious group photo.

"Thanks for the reminder, but I think a few hours on the plane is enough. -MH"

Isabella smiled, put away her phone, and took a sip of her coffee.

"Uh, I think I'll go first..." Watson stroked his beard.

"Now? I thought we could go see Mrs. Hudson together."

"No, I mean, I...I haven't figured it out yet, I don't know how to face her..." Watson said desolately.

"That's what I said... well, let's talk about it when you want to go back to 221b." Isabella understood his feelings very well.

"Goodbye, Isabella, I hope you and Mycroft will always be happy." Watson stood up. Although his heart was full of holes, he still upheld kindness and sincerely wished her.

"Thank you, John, and you too."

Isabella watched Watson disappear into the rain. Just like the last time we met in the coffee shop, he turned up his collar and plunged into the drizzle.

She rubbed the side button of her phone and stared at the group photo with fascination. She knew that McCoff knew her itinerary well, and that McCoff would follow her to India. After showing a semi-public state, she likes this kind of tacit trick very much.

There are many officials in the British government who cannot accept the relationship between the two of them. After McCoff sent them to Syria, Chile and Haiti one after another, those people have learned to behave, at least they will not expressly object.

In addition, Isabella always kept the Queen's words in mind, and showed an attitude of alienation from McCoff at some dinner parties. Those people gradually believed in the theory of political marriage, and even looked at McCoff with a somewhat pity.

Of course, this part of idiots was also transferred from the British government by McCoff for various reasons.

The Taj Mahal in the photo is white and pure, with some Buddhist Zen and piety faintly.

She picked up her umbrella and bag, and drove to Barts Hospital. She knew where to get the sophisticated chemical instruments and various reagents that Sherlock was interested in. When she met again after two years, she always wanted to give this "law brother on board" to prepare some presents.

……

Club Diogenes, cloudy day.

"You have never been idle all this time, just like a hardworking bee." Mycroft folded the newspaper leisurely, and looked at his brother who was enjoying the treatment of shaving.

"Aren't you too? I've only been gone for two years, and you already have the whole of England in your pocket," Sherlock's voice sounded flatly, "The government, the royal family, God, there are still people in this world who can control you oh, my dear brother?"

Mycroft pretended to be surprised, "I don't agree with you when you say that, where is the royal family?"

"Isabella," Sherlock spoke quickly, "What makes me curious is how did you get those stupid goldfish with fat brains to agree to your plan?"

McCaughey smiled.

"Is it the evidence of their corruption and bribery in private, or the scandal of having a secret meeting with a lover and giving birth to three illegitimate children? Or is it that you threatened the other party with a gun?"

"Sherlock, I'm not a terrorist." Mycroft was quite helpless.

"But it's similar in a sense." Sherlock complained relentlessly.

Therefore, when Isabella pushed open the door of one of McCoff's offices familiarly, what came into view was not the curly-haired detective in a white shirt and slim suit as she remembered, but lying on a chair with a cloth full of Men with shaving foam chin-to-the-neck in their own "tramp" look.

"...Sherlock?" she asked tentatively.

"It's definitely me, I can't even recognize you, you can go and see..." Just about to say to look at the eyes, Sherlock remembered that McCoff was still here, and the mean mouth turned off "understanding".

"Welcome back, London has lost a lot of fun without you." Isabella graciously ignored his impolite attitude just now.

"I found a lot of fun in the Middle East," Sherlock pouted. "It took me two years to wipe out Moriarty's criminal network. Those in Serbia are the last remnants."

"Yes, you have also conducted an in-depth investigation into Baron Maupertuiz, who has hatched a big conspiracy." Mycroft flipped through the documents.

"It's a huge conspiracy." Sherlock corrected.

"What? What?" Isabella was at a loss.

"Anyway, you're safe now," Mycroft said.

To this, Sherlock only snorted through his nostrils in reply.

"Don't you think you should say thank you to me?"

"Thank you for what?"

"Thank you for your help. Maybe you have forgotten that I rarely go out in person." Mycroft reminded.

"Speaking of which, Myc's off-duty time is extraordinarily long this time. I was so bored that I went skiing twice and skydiving once." Isabella talked about her naughty experience in front of Mycoff without shyness.

Mycroft glanced at her.

Speaking of this incident, Sherlock seemed to be angry, he struggled to sit up, "You were sitting there, watching me being whipped!"

"I rescued you," Mycroft corrected.

"No, I saved myself," Sherlock insisted. "Why didn't you tell him to stop earlier?"

"I can't reveal my identity, otherwise all previous efforts will be wasted."

"You're very happy to see me being whipped." Sherlock hit the nail on the head.

"Pfft." Isabella couldn't hold back and laughed out loud.

"And you." Sherlock fired at Isabella angrily.

"Nonsense." Mycroft would never admit it.

"You must be very happy," said Sherlock.

"Sherlock, do you know what it's like for me to lurk in? So discreetly lurking among them, those loud voices, those rough bastards!"

Sherlock reluctantly accepted this statement, and he lay back again, "I didn't expect you to speak Serbian."

"I wouldn't have, but the language was Slavic, borrowed a lot of vocabulary from Turkish and German, and it took me a few hours to pick it up," Mycroft said.

"So you learned it on an airplane?" Isabella asked.

"Of course, from getting on the plane to getting off the plane." Mycroft raised his eyebrows.

"Then your learning ability is not as good as before." Sherlock was still stubborn, and it was his pleasure to tear down his brother.

"Middle age, my brother. We're all the same."

"By the way, Sherlock, I have specially prepared a big gift for your return." Isabella said.

"what?"

"New chemical equipment and potions and so on."

"Oh, thank you." Sherlock said casually.

"Okay, we need to talk about the upcoming attack on London." Mycroft tapped the table.

It's a pity that all Sherlock's thoughts are on the clothes. He tried on a new white shirt, and straightened the buttons in front of the mirror, "How about this shirt?"

"Sherlock!" Mycroft yelled.

"I'll find the underground terrorist network for you, Mycroft." Sherlock put on his suit jacket. "How is John Watson?"

"John?"

"Yes, have you seen him lately?"

"Oh, of course, we meet once a week for a quick lunch," Mycroft smirked, "You don't need to tell me, I've been monitoring him, we haven't contacted, and he doesn't know you're not dead yet."

"John, I just met him a few days ago," Isabella, who was standing aside, said, "He looks pretty good, and he told me that he proposed marriage."

In fact, Watson seems to have lost his soul, but she is still very happy to be able to add trouble to Sherlock.

"My God... this beard is so stupid, like an ancient man," Sherlock opened the file bag, "what are you talking about? Who asked for marriage?"

"John," Isabella shrugged, "you may go to him now and maybe he can reserve a best man position for you."

"No, no! How can he? Ah, and this beard, we have to make him shave it off!" Sherlock chattered, as if stimulated.

"Us?" Mycroft asked suspiciously.

"I don't want to be with the old man," Sherlock said to himself. "I have to find him."

"Are you sure?" Mycroft looked at Sherlock with a theater look.

"Of course, I'll find him in Baker Street, maybe out of the cake."

"Wait, Sherlock, John doesn't live in Baker Street anymore," Isabella reminded, "he moved away."

"He's got a new life of his own," McCoff added.

So Sherlock was the one left behind.

"What life does he have without me?" Sherlock asked. "Where is he going tonight?"

"How do I know?" Mycroft smirked.

"You must know."

McCoff smiled, "He made a reservation for dinner at the restaurant on Marie-Le-Boon Road. The place he picked was pretty good. That restaurant has the 2000 vintage of Saint Emilion, but I like the 2001 vintage."

"Maybe I can meet him by chance." Sherlock thought thoughtfully.

"Are you sure it wasn't his fist that met your nose by chance?" Isabella gave him a blank look.

"It's very likely that he doesn't welcome you." Mycroft added a knife.

Ignoring the two people's complaints, Sherlock took the black wool coat from Anthea's hand, and even thanked Mycroft when he turned to leave.

Isabella consciously stood beside Mycroft, looked at Sherlock's back and said, "Let's make a bet, will Sherlock get beaten tonight?"

"Obviously," Mycroft didn't even bother to think about it. He changed the topic, which seemed to be a matter of settlement after autumn, "What's the matter with the skiing and skydiving you just mentioned?"

"...I thought you knew." Isabella said guiltily.

Mycroft pinched his eyebrows with a headache.

"What was the London attack you were talking about?" Isabella asked.

"It's a piece of information. I've been busy with other things recently and don't have the energy to take care of it," Mycroft sighed, "I hope Sherlock won't make any trouble for me."

"I don't think John will forgive him so easily, and maybe even you and I will be severely marked by him." Isabella joked.

"I'm used to it. To John, I'm the representative of indifference." Mycroft raised his eyebrows.

"Are you going tonight?"

"Where?"

"To see Sherlock being beaten, I think the scene must be very exciting." Isabella smiled happily.

"Excuse me, I have reserved a table at the restaurant tonight, together?" Mycroft invited.

"Of course." She nodded.

Counting the time of the business trip to Serbia, she and McCoff have not seen each other for a long time.

It was already late at night in London, the street lights were on, and the small black car slowly drove into the parking lot. The French restaurant was very private, and Isabella took a seat in the restaurant holding McCoff's arm.

During the dinner, Mycroft shook a bottle of light pink wine in his hand and said, "Taste it, a Serbian specialty, some kind of fruit wine made from prunes, plums and raspberries."

"Special products? Could it be that you brought them back?" Isabella was extremely surprised. Mycroft, who would go to a country on a business trip to buy special products, looked so weird. A person who has always avoided going abroad had time to go to special products. What fruit wine do you buy in the store?

Seeing through what the other party was thinking at a glance, Mycroft explained: "Anthea bought it."

"Oh."

It seems that going undercover in Serbia is quite leisurely, not at all as dangerous as when McCoff fooled Sherlock.

Exquisite dishes, pleasant music environment, and intoxicating wine, Isabella was surprised to find that this strange-looking fruit wine was unexpectedly delicious and sweet, and she couldn't help drinking a few more cup.

The mobile phone in Mycroft's hand vibrated, and he glanced at the email casually. It was a surveillance screenshot sent to him by Anthea. In the photo, Sherlock was standing alone on the streets of London, covering his broken mouth and nose. Watson and Mary then drove off in a taxi.

well.

Mycroft hooked the corners of his lips happily.

"... Mr. Holmes?"

Mycroft looked up and saw that it was his colleague in the British government.

"Hello, Mr. Langdale." He accurately called up the other party's information from the memory palace.

"Hello." The man glanced at Isabella again, and suddenly felt that one head was two big.

It is rumored that Mr. Holmes and Her Royal Highness Princess Isabella are in a political marriage. The relationship between the two has always been neither cold nor cold. They even made no secret of their attendance at dinner parties, and they would never sit together if they could be separated.

However, looking at the situation today, it seems that the relationship between the two is not as bad as in the legend?

Langdale's head was spinning quickly. Mr. Holmes has a high position and authority. In the British government, he said nothing. He is the little transparent in the cabinet. He suddenly broke some secrets. He will not be sent to Egypt to eat sand, right?

"Your Majesty is just having a light meal with Her Royal Highness after get off work." Mycroft smiled slightly, but the smile didn't reach his eyes, and there was a slight threat in his tone, "You shouldn't have misunderstood anything, right?"

"Ah?" Langdale came back to his senses and said hurriedly, "No! No! I won't say anything, you eat slowly, I remembered that there is still a document to be approved, so I'll go first."

Under Mycroft's half-smile eyes, the man ran away.

Mycroft looked away, and was surprised to find that the bottle of fruit wine was almost drunk by Isabella, and he hadn't had time to say that it had a high alcohol content.

Isabella only felt that the fruit wine tasted very sweet, and it tasted like prune juice. When the alcohol was on top, her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were watery, watching the sky and the earth in front of her shake.

She grabbed Mycroft's sleeve and complained in a nasal voice: "Don't shake it, I'm dizzy."

"...you drank too much." Mycroft beckoned the attendants to come over and pay the bill, and he frowned and helped Isabella, who was as soft as noodles.

She consciously looked for the nearest support point to her, then put her arms around Mycroft's neck, and leaned her head against his chest amid the familiar scent of sandalwood and cedarwood.

"..."

Mycroft dragged Isabella, who looked like a koala, into the small black car with difficulty, and told the driver to go back to Pall Mall Street.

"Myc..." Isabella nodded her head little by little, and her eyes were obviously starting to lose sight, but she still wanted to look up at the other person's face persistently.

Mycroft lowered his head and hugged her shoulders, warning in a low voice, "Don't move around."

Different from the hustle and bustle of the downtown area, Pall Mall Street is so quiet that it seems to be in another world. Only the agents who "pretend" to pass by at the intersection from time to time prove that there are still people on this street.

The little black car parked steadily on the side of the road.

Isabella was already sound asleep leaning against the back of the chair, and Mycroft simply put one hand on the crook of her leg.Holding her shoulder with the other hand, he hugged her vigorously.

On the same night, someone came back from the dead and was beaten by his best friend, and someone was enjoying delicious food and wine in a high-end restaurant.

There were not many ripples in Mycroft's heart. He calmly opened the door and went upstairs. It was still a little difficult to open the door with one hand. Fortunately, he specially lost six pounds before going out this time.

Perhaps starting tomorrow, 221b will return to its usual days of flying around, and the consulting detective and his assistant will appear in the streets of London again, causing trouble for Inspector Lestrade at Scotland Yard, breaking the law. Whip and cadaver specimens from Butts Hospital.

However, the Holmes brothers will still be Britain's invincible line of defense.

Looking at the peaceful sleeping face of the sleeping person in his arms, Mycroft whispered good night.

The author has something to say:

Finally posted the episode before the year before!In this way, this article finally comes to an end~ Thank you very much for your support QwQ, this is also my first long article, and now I feel that some places are still not good enough, thank you for your tolerance.

Then advertise, Momo’s short story mentioned before has been published, you can see it in the column~ I plan to open another Sherlock’s derivative, although there is no copywriting yet... I hope interested friends can click to collect it ( plead.jpg)

Finally, I wish you all a happy new year! !

感谢在2021-11-0920:03:58~2022-01-3022:34:33期间为我投出霸王票或灌溉营养液的小天使哦~

感谢灌溉营养液的小天使：阖上了过往っ、爱喝椰汁的西米露30瓶；喵大人28瓶；ASkyer20瓶；九缺一16瓶；雨停江南6瓶；傅诗迩1瓶；

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