[Shen Xia] Britannia Rose

The cramped and dark stairs are bumpy, bloody needles and dirty blackened paper towels can be seen everywhere.The unique and dangerous aroma of mago is mixed with rancid smell, Isabella frowned and pinched her nose.She carefully walked around the scattered needles and climbed up step by step.

There are several ice jugs made of Coke bottles on the window sill, and some addicts are smoking in the corridor as if no one else is there.

Auston turned his body to the side, blocking most of the malicious and obscene gazes for Isabella.In the corridor, there were some drug addicts in shabby clothes sitting on the floor. They leaned against the wall and looked at Isabella's exposed arms and calves with impunity.

Those people blew a gangster whistle, this kind of place is not for rich people, look at their flashy clothes, some people start to think viciously, if they can be dragged into the abyss of drug addiction, let They became slaves to their desires and were forced to give all their money, which would be great.These people have nothing left, and a strong sense of imbalance makes them want to destroy and destroy the good life of others.

So a man with a haggard face who was closest to them smiled maliciously and asked them in a hoarse voice: "...Do you want to buy something? Good stuff, very pure."

The man was like a skeleton with clothes hanging on it. Isabella judged from his rotten teeth and sore arms that he was at least seven or eight years old.

"No, we're here to find someone."

The man rolled his eyes, and asked slowly: "Every day there are people looking for...well, who are you looking for?"

"Curly hair, long face, tall..." Isabella stared into the man's eyes, trying to get a little emotion from them.

"I don't remember, oh, here, everyone looks like a ghost, who cares if you are fat or thin... you are all walking dead."

"He's a college student."

"Oh! You mean him!" The man reacted, and he smiled viciously, "I've been here for four or five days, in the second room at the front, he only injects cocaine solution..."

With her heart in her throat, Isabella hastily pushed open the crumbling door, and when she came into view, a middle-aged man with disheveled hair and the appearance of a beggar was injecting heroin into his arm, and an expression appeared on the man's face. With an excited and overwhelmed expression, about ten seconds passed, he skillfully drew out half a tube of blood to rinse the needle, and then pushed the drug-mixed blood back into the body again.

"..." Isabella looked for them one by one. Some people were sleeping casually on dirty, blood-stained and filthy blankets, covered with a rotten quilt that was eaten by mice. She had to carefully identify these people. The face under the matted hair and beard.

Finally, Isabella stopped by the corner. A familiar curly-haired man was curled up. Under him was a pure wool hand-sewn woolen coat. The silk white shirt he was wearing had long been wrinkled. Sherlock With his eyes closed tightly, his whole body is bowed like a shrimp, and his thin spine looks terrifyingly sharp.Sherlock's posture is very similar to that of when the embryo was conceived in the mother's womb, when he was vulnerable and insecure.

"Sherlock?" Isabella knelt down and patted him, "Wake up! Sherlock!"

Sherlock opened his pale eyes, which were always sober and rational, and now his eyes were blurred, and Sherlock said incoherently, "Leave me alone! No matter... who you are, you have no right to interfere with me!"

"Who is he?" Auston couldn't help asking.

"Mr. Holmes' younger brother." Isabella was completely helpless, and she had to tell McCoff the news quickly.

Auston watched her take out her mobile phone to make a call, and said in horror: "That Mr. Holmes? He also has a younger brother? Or is he... an addict?"

The phone rang and was hung up, and Isabella received a text message.

"Your Majesty is having a very important meeting, is there anything wrong?——MH"

"No matter how important your meeting is, you should come and see your poor little brother, Sherlock is on drugs! - Isa"

Isabella sent a location message to Mycroft, and then angrily put away the phone. Which is more important, the meeting or Sherlock?He didn't really wait until the meeting was over before gliding around in his goddamn little black car, did he?

This time, Mycroft's speed is simply breathtaking. In less than 3 minutes, from Whitehall to this messy unfinished building, you must know that there are more than three traffic lights along the way.

The man was wearing a solemn three-piece suit, and the small black umbrella rarely touched the ground. Obviously, he also felt that the hygienic conditions here were worrying.Mycroft came striding forward, and he saw that he had just come out of the conference room, and there was a pen in his breast pocket.Mycroft's face was full of clouds, and Isabella didn't dare to breathe with his deliberate suppression of the monstrous anger.

He didn't even say the daily long-winded and false greetings, his gloomy eyes flashed across Oston, who immediately jumped up as if on fire, and he hurriedly said: "I suddenly remembered that I have something urgent, let's go first Yes! Good-bye, Isabella."

Well, excuse his Mycrophobia.Now only Isabella was left to face the extremely low pressure of McCoff.

"Sherlock!" Mycroft growled.

And the curly-haired man slumped on the ground like a dead fish didn't even give him a look.

In the next second, the little black umbrella hit Sherlock's elastic buttocks.

"Aw!" Sherlock bounced up from the ground with a carp, and the moment his chaotic eyes saw the person in front of him, a little reason finally returned to his brain, "You just found it? Mycroft, your speed has changed. slow."

"I didn't even know that my proud younger brother would lie on the ground like a dog and be tormented by desire one day." Mycroft suppressed his anger, and these words were almost squeezed out through his teeth.

"Yeah, just like I didn't expect that my smartest brother would make excuses for laughing and the fat old men in the cabinet..." Sherlock's words were harsh and mean, and Mycroft pursed his lips tightly. Raising his hand high, a slap was about to land on Sherlock's emaciated cheek.

Sherlock closed his eyes subconsciously.

"Mycroft!"

Isabella didn't bother to call him his honorific title, she hurriedly prevented the man from slapping Sherlock.

Mycroft was really overwhelmed by the anger, he calmed down, the anger was overwhelming, his head and teeth went on strike at the same time, the pain made him almost speechless.

"You should never try to interfere in my life," Sherlock added fuel to the fire, "You're so self-righteous!"

"Sherlock!" Isabella glared at him, "Say less!"

Mycroft forced himself to straighten his back and stand still in place. His willpower was so strong that he could even resist extreme physical discomfort.Maybe it was because of the headache, a gap cracked in his icy shell-like calm pretense, and it took less than ten seconds, but Isabella clearly saw the complex emotions of guilt, remorse, and pain in the man's eyes.

Mycroft Holmes has never been an emotionless machine, his weakness is only one - family.

Isabella had only put away her dissatisfaction with Mycroft's indifference and ruthlessness in the past few days. Obviously, he had been very worried about his young and worry-free brother.

The author has something to say:

Xia Xia: Yeah, making my brother angry is my goal