[Zongyingmi] She is a princess and not sick

"Have you got it?"

A cold voice in the darkness said with a strange tone.

"No."

The voice that answered was trembling.

He also thought it was safe, but he never thought that the British princess was a black sheep.

"Sir, I missed this time, and there will be another time..." Another person said.

He still doesn't believe it, this delicate princess is so lucky that she can escape every time.

"Next time?" The gentleman sneered, making hair stand on end. "Do you think there will be a next time? Mycroft Holmes is not a vegetarian."

The success this time was due to Moriarty's influence. If it hadn't been for the ignorant princess who offended Moriarty, it would not have been so easy to succeed under the protection of Mycroft.

Hell, no idea what this woman found.

UK MI6

Anthea's gauguin shoes were crackling and disorganized. When the group saw her hurried into the Boss' office, they knew that something big must have happened.

Everyone lowered their heads. Every time Anthea entered like this, Boss must be in a bad mood.

"Sir, there is news from the United States. Something happened to His Royal Highness Francis." Anthea, who had been McCoff's secretary for six years, knew something that McCoff and the princess had to talk about. Princess Francis was in McCoff's heart. It wasn't those insignificant goldfish, "It was a car accident. The person was already on his way to the hospital. It was said that it was a trauma, and his life was not in danger."

Mycroft frowned as expected. He stared at the news from Anthea for a while, and asked, "Car accident? Accident or man-made?"

"There is no clear news about who did it. But His Royal Highness Francis also sent news that the brakes were disabled."

"How is she now?" Mycroft's eyes darkened, hiding all the emotions in them, making it hard to see clearly.

"When His Royal Highness Francis jumped out of the car, the car had already rushed out of the fence, so the broken iron piece of the fence was cut from the left shoulder to the elbow, and there was a slight concussion."

"Give me the results within 24 hours." Mycroft got up, holding his coat in one hand and his black umbrella in the other, and strode out of the office.

"Yes, Sir." Anthea looked at McCoff's back, and silently paid attention to the earliest flight to California at this time, estimating when it would arrive so that preparations could begin there as well.

For some reason, Anthea felt that her boss was a little angry this time.

She began to worry about the mastermind behind the scenes.

Frances had a dream in which her parents divorced when she was six years old.

She lived with her mother in Kensington Palace, and seeing her red eyes, she had never seen a relaxed look on her face.Like a butterfly breaking out of its cocoon, after a long period of pain, it finally gained new life.

Mother hugged her tightly, as if holding the biggest treasure in the world.

She wrapped her little wristlet around her mother's neck and responded with a big hug.

This is the only thing a daughter can do.

Mother still hummed to her softly when she fell asleep as usual.

"Tellmethethalesthattomeweresodear

Please tell me that sweet story

Long, longago; long, longago.

many years ago, many years ago

SingmethesongsIdelightedtohear

please sing me that touching song

Long, longago; longago.

many years ago, many years ago

Now you are come, all my grief is removed

You have come back and my worries are all gone

Let me forget that so long you have loved

Let me forget that you have been wandering for many years

Let me believe that you love as you loved

Make me believe that you love me still

......"

Francis remembered the folk songs his mother often hummed again. It was a man's voice, and the humming had a different taste.

But my father never sang.

But it's not that Francis doesn't want to see Charles. Charles is just a father in her life. Although he loves her, he can never replace his mother.

Francis opened her heavy eyelids and vaguely saw a tall figure. She raised the corners of her mouth and wondered how this man could always find a three-piece suit that concealed his belly.

"I didn't even know you could sing, sir," she said with a hoarse voice, she smacked her mouth and found that it was hard work.

Mycroft handed Francis a glass of water, and she drank a little under the covers.

"Sir, why are you here?" Francis had briefly reported to the two security guards before getting into the ambulance. She frowned and asked again, "How long have I been asleep?"

"Fifteen hours and 48 minutes." Mycroft glanced at his watch.

"It may be the effect of the medicine. I haven't slept for such a long time." Francis looked at the needle on his right hand, and then at the bandage wrapped around his left hand. "The opening is quite large, and there may be a scar."

She looked up and found that McCoff was also looking at her left arm, and she sighed: "You're a little less talkative today."

Mycroft glanced at him, and sat on the chair beside the bed. He had been here for an hour and a half. He used deductive methods to deduce the upper and lower wounds on Francis' body, not counting the one on his hand. One bruise and two minor fractures.

Every time he observed one place, Mycroft's eyes sank a little.

"Now that the analgesic has worn off, you may feel pain." Mycroft adjusted the bed for her so that she could comfortably convert it into a half-seat.

The mild concussion made Francis, who already had Meniere's disease, feel dizzy and nauseous. As McCoff said, the painkillers had worn off, and she felt pain in her left hand and shoulder.

She suppressed the discomfort in her body and continued to talk to McCoff: "Has my matter been sent back to the UK?"

"Well. The Queen has already called to greet her." McCoff naturally gave the Queen an explanation before boarding the plane.

"So this time the blame is the media again?" Francis asked, rubbing his temples.

Her word "again" is intriguing.

Mycroft put his hand on her blond hair: "Don't worry, Your Highness. I'll take care of things."

"I never doubted your ability, sir." Francis really couldn't hold back the desire to retch due to the pain, she covered her mouth with a few tissues and retched.

A hand moved from her head to her back and patted it lightly.

Francis didn't look up at him, only his blue eyes dimmed.

Despite being called Iceman, Mycroft is actually a very gentle man.

"Slight concussion will cause dizziness and nausea, and His Highness doesn't have to bear it."

"Nothing can be hidden from your eyes." Francis leaned on the bed weakly, her blue eyes looked at Mycroft, "Have you found out who did it?"

"It's not counted. It's just some small shrimps." Mycroft looked at Francis' pale face, and his voice was as indifferent as his expression, "I plan to leave for England the day after tomorrow, Your Highness."

Francis was startled, and those blue eyes just looked into his eyes. After a while, she lowered her head and pursed her lips: "Okay, sir."

As long as Mycroft didn't explicitly object to her looking into things about her mother, it was fine.

"Are you hungry?" Mycroft touched Francis' blond hair and asked lightly.

"What can I eat now? I don't want to eat something from the hospital. It's worse than airplane food." Francis' voice became lighter.

Mycroft hooked the corner of his mouth: "I'm afraid you don't have a choice now."