[Zongyingmi] She is a princess and not sick

Francis was trained in secret in England, at 221C Baker Street, under the control of Mycroft.

The next day, Francis woke up early, made a simple breakfast, and made these cookies to visit his neighbor Sherlock next door.

She knocked regularly on the door, and it was answered by a short, blond man who must have been Sherlock's roommate, John Watson.

He saw Francis' expression like hell surprised.

"OMG, Her Royal Highness Francis, Princess of Wales."

Francis made a silent gesture: "Keep your voice down, sir. Few people know that I am in England. Excuse me, is Sherlock there?"

"Yes. I am Watson, John Watson. Nice to meet you, Your Highness."

"Please call me Francis." Francis glanced at Watson, probably seeing that Watson was a soldier in the past and had been on the battlefield.

Watson walked up to Sherlock and patted him on the shoulder and whispered, "I didn't even know that you knew the Princess of Wales, Sherlock."

Sherlock looked at the agitated Watson expressionlessly, snorted coldly, and ignored him.

"Hey, Sherlock. Long time no see." Francis ignored the fact that Sherlock was wearing his dark blue silk pajamas, which was very inappropriate for meeting guests. "Would you like some cookies?"

Sherlock didn't speak, and Watson asked Francis: "Does Francis want black tea? I'll go down and find Mrs. Hudson to prepare it."

"Thank you so much, Dr. Watson." Francis smiled and watched Watson go downstairs, then turned to Sherlock and said, "I remember you just solved a case yesterday, how did you get over it?"

"Moriarty," said Sherlock, sitting up on the sofa and looking at Francis. "The biggest takeaway from this case yesterday. You know him."

Francis put the cookies on the kitchen table and went to sit on the sofa: "I've heard his name, but never met him. He has a very famous name, though, and he's called a criminal." Napoleon of the world."

"Napoleon? Interesting." Sherlock's eyes lit up after thinking for a moment.

"I think you might be his Waterloo." Francis said with a smile, "failure makes the loser more noble. The fallen Napoleon Bonaparte seems to be better than the standing Napoleon Bonaparte." Taller. This is the highest praise given to Napoleon by the great writer Victor Hugo. But I always feel that this is like some kind of prophecy is uncertain."

"Victor Hugo?! Who is that?" Sherlock frowned.

Francis gave him a strange look, while Watson who had just come up had a look of disbelief.

"That is a French literary giant in the 19th century, known as the Shakespeare of France."

"Who is Shakespeare?"

Watson looked excited: "Shakespeare is the greatest writer and dramatist in Britain. You don't know?"

Every Briton should be proud that the country has produced a genius like Shakespeare.

"I saw it, it was automatically deleted by the brain. This kind of useless information." Sherlock is like a proud cat at this time.

"But that's Shakespeare."

"Okay, Watson. It's useless for you to explain that." Francis remembered something, with a smile in his blue eyes, "Victor Hugo. He is the original author of your parents' favorite opera Les Misérables."

The music of Les Miserables sounded in Sherlock's memory palace, which was a memory he couldn't delete even if he wanted to.

He frowned, holding the black tea that Watson brought up: "How is your mother's investigation, Francis?"

Watson sat up straight at once. For people who grew up in his age, Princess Diana was a goddess to them, an angel on par with Mother Teresa.

Francis noticed this, and made a silent gesture to Watson: "There is indeed a clue. However, I always feel that there is something weird about it."

Sherlock looked at Francis for a while, making sure that the other party didn't ask him for help.

"Are you going to the flower shop next?"

Francis raised his eyebrows: "What? Did I write it on my face?"

"Mycroft is obsessive-compulsive, and he is a perfectionist. There is absolutely nothing missing in the house he arranged for you. Francis, you obviously have a car, but you choose to walk, which means that the scope remains on this Baker Street. You have already had breakfast, and it is still early for lunch. There is a flower shop 100 meters away from here on Baker Street, and the flower shop is called Gemstone. Mycroft also bought flower seeds there yesterday and sent them to Pall Mall Street."

"Buying flowers? Mycroft?" Francis asked, "It seems that he is not a man with such feelings."

Sherlock didn't speak. When he met with Mycroft yesterday, he smelled the floral scent of lemon and tea from him. Later, he went up to check.

Only the classic variety launched by David Austin of the United Kingdom in 2007, with a strong lemon fragrance and tea fragrance, after the tenth anniversary of Princess Diana's death, the rose flower named for her daughter Francis Alexandra Victoria - Alexandra Princess Sandra of Kent.

Kent refers to Queen Victoria's title before her accession to the throne - Her Royal Highness Alexandrina Victoria, Princess of Kent, whose father, Prince Edward, is the Duke of Kent.

Sherlock gave Francis a meaningful look, she really didn't know anything about it.

"Though I thought Mycroft would prefer something sweeter and floral, like rose cake."

After enjoying the black tea at Detective Yao's house, Francis was about to leave to buy flowers.

As Frances walked down the stairs, the BlackBerry in her pocket rang. She reached for it and looked at the caller ID on the screen.

"Hallo, Will, what's the matter?"

"I heard from my grandmother that you have returned to England to recuperate." William on the other end of the phone said with worry, "I have told you many times, Siss. No matter what, your own safety is the most important thing. This Don't let things like mother ever happen again, Siss."

Francis paused for a moment: "I assure you, Will. There will be no such thing again. Except for a slight sequelae of concussion, there is nothing particularly uncomfortable. You, Harry and father, don't be too I'm worried."

"Harry and father, I have told you. Father is very angry. Even though you said that you and Mr. Ross are just friends who cooperate."

"It's predictable. I have to say that Mr. Ross is also a victim this time." Francis said, all because Nolan did his best to help her find the truth about her mother.

"Of course. But no one is more important than you, Siss."

"But I have grown up, Will." Francis said, "You have also entered a new journey in life. My dear, you and Kate should live a good life. Don't worry, I will stay in England to study in the future, no Will go to faraway America."

"Really, Siss. It's really wonderful then." William's voice finally became cheerful again.

After Francis hung up the phone, she took out a pair of sunglasses from her bag and put them on. Just as she walked out of 221B, her cell phone rang again.

What's going on today, did everyone make an appointment to come to her?

She took out her cell phone and found that it was Neil Kafry's call. Could it be that something was going on?

"Hallo, I'm Francis."

"Hey Francis. How are you doing? Pete picked me up that day before he could ask how you were doing."

"It's just a slight concussion. You'll be fine after a few days of rest. Why is there any gain in calling me today?"

"I just checked the staff at that restaurant who had contact with Princess Diana. There were almost no problems."

"Almost?" Francis raised an eyebrow.

"Yes. Almost. Tsk tsk. One of the waiters, Shreve Black, died suddenly the day after Princess Diana died."

"sudden death?"

"That's right, the family members are still determined not to allow an autopsy. However, after finding out that Shreve Black is a prostitute, it's understandable not to allow an autopsy."

Francis smiled: "I think this Mr. Black should have a false identity. Shreve is an Egyptian name, and the Egyptians don't have the surname Black at all. If you follow this line, you will definitely gain something. Yes Now, where is that Mr. Black's family now?"

"Are you going to go there yourself? In Florence, Italy."

"Well, be careful. Don't startle the snake." Francis said.

She hung up the phone, frowning.

"Excuse me, are you Miss Wales from 221C?"

Francis looked up at a little red-haired girl in an apron carrying pots of large cream-colored, musky-scented rare single-petaled flowers.

"Yes. I am. Are you?"

"I'm the proprietress of the gem flower shop." The red-haired girl who looked to be in her twenties said with a smile, "This is a potted rose that Mr. Sherlock Holmes from 221B asked me to send over. He said, you are not in the mood today I came to buy flowers, so I specially asked me to send them here."

"Okay, thank you." Francis glanced at the window on the second floor above the rear.

Sherlock played the violin in a good mood.

This rose with a creamy yellow center was bred in 1976, the year Mycroft was born.

The plant grows strong and fast, with few thorns, abundant flowers, open in large clusters, excellent heat resistance and disease resistance, almost no disease, excellent flowering, can be used as garden landscape, it is a very rare English rose except for Austin .

This flower has a very special name, called Sally Holmes.

The author has something to say: Sherlock is ready to watch his brother's excitement.