[Zongyingmi] She is a princess and not sick

After Francis left, Mycroft glanced at his agents. There was no warmth in his eyes, just like his rumors, iceman.

He closed the office door.

Mycroft's mood suddenly became very irritated. Even if he faced Sherlock, a brat who had been like a day for 28 years, McCoff would not be as irritated as he is now.

A restlessness that breaks the routine.

Even Frances didn't know it, but every time she tried to do something without telling him, her right fingers would unconsciously play "Puppy Waltz".

This is her habit since she was a child.

In the past, Mycroft thought this habit was cute, but today, he only felt irritated.

So he let Francis take Sherlock with him immediately.

Although at that moment he wanted to yell at Francis: "Stay in England for me, Eric."

But no matter how dangerous he described the outside world, the always obedient little princess could always exert the most perfect gene of the Windsor family - paranoia.

McCoff even knew why Francis was going to Italy at such a time.

No one understood what Diana's death meant to Francis better than he.

Francis is a genius with a high IQ, while Charles and Diana are just an ordinary couple. Before he appeared, Francis had no guide.

But McCoff also felt that Diana was an amazing woman, and that she used her company and love to create something sensual in Francis's rational world, which was groundbreaking.

Since then, Diana has become Francis' only spiritual support in this world.

The three of William, Henry and Charles combined are not worth half of Diana.

But Diana died, and Francis' spiritual world collapsed.

For the next week, Frances basically lost control of her emotions for half of the time, until she realized that Diana's death was unusual.

This princess is genuinely smart.

But her mother made her, and it can also break her.

It is an agreement between him and the queen not to let Diana's affairs ruin Francis.

Francis uses the people in her hands to approach the truth step by step.

And he needs cookies, lots of them!

He opened the box containing the biscuits, took out a piece and stuffed it into his mouth, the creamy sweetness spread in his mouth, the sweetness of the biscuit was just right, the sweetness of the cream was locked in the biscuit, and she used Rosemary gives the biscuits an irresistible flavor.

Mycroft believed that Sherlock could keep Francis safe, but he couldn't estimate how much Francis' intelligence could see from Italy.

But at least Sherlock can keep her safe no matter what happens, and keep her in deep trouble.

At this time, Mycroft also had to admit that his younger brother was a double-edged sword.

Francis also returned to Baker Street silently all the way. When she arrived at the apartment, she saw Sherlock standing at the door of her apartment. There were two suitcases next to the high-end custom-made leather shoes, one of which was hers.

Looks like she doesn't have to get out of the car.

She brought the Land Rover to the detective, and she rolled down the window: "It's so sweet, detective. Get in the car, Sherlock."

After getting into the car, Sherlock took out two plane tickets to Rome, Italy: "The plane is in three hours. Francis."

"Everything is as you expected, Sherlock." Francis started the car lightly, "Mycroft asked you to come with me. There must be something wrong with Emerald."

three hours ago

Francis had just put the cookies in the oven, and when she turned around to see the tall, curly-haired detective, she was startled.

"Oh, you scared me, Sherlock." Francis patted her chest, and she put one hand on the glass table in the kitchen, "Is there anything I can do for you?"

Sherlock's eyes glanced at the oven behind Francis: "You are going to meet McCoff. Cookies are one of McCoff's favorite desserts."

Francis frowned, and she subconsciously looked around.

"Don't worry, I've cut off all surveillance on Baker Street." Sherlock put his hands behind his back, "I want to talk to you about that phone call."

The smile on Francis's face faded, her blue eyes turned deep into the sea blue, and she stroked her brilliant blond hair: "I have nothing to say, Sherlock. This is my private matter."

"I can help you, Francis." Sherlock took a step closer to Francis, who had the same green eyes as Mycroft, "You don't want McCoff to know the purpose of your part of speech."

"You can't hide it from Mycroft, Sherlock. My purpose has been revealed. Mycroft knows he can't stop me. If I go secretly by myself, it will make him feel uncontrollable irritability. If As you said, Mycroft is a man with a strong desire to control..."

"A control freak," Sherlock said.

"What?" Francis couldn't keep up with him.

"Mycroft is not very controlling, but controlling and obsessive-compulsive disorder and cleanliness. Wrinkled clothes will not be worn a second time." Sherlock complained about his brother mercilessly.

Francis nodded: "I agree with your statement. Very precise words."

"So, you handed over control to Mycroft. Mycroft is not going to let your guard down so easily." Sherlock knew his brother as well as his brother knew him, "but I can help you. Kaufu will never trust you to go alone. The only person he can think of to cooperate with you is me."

"Why do you want to help me?" Francis frowned, "Macrof's attitude, he objected to my investigation of this matter."

The detective snorted coldly: "He doesn't object to the truth, he's worried about you. Francis. I'm surprised that my brother still has the emotion of his spurning."

"He's always worried about you. Detective," Francis said with a smile. "He's not a cold machine. At least not when it comes to you."

The awkward detective realized that this was not a good topic, so he immediately changed his mind: "What do you think of my proposal, Francis."

Francis was obviously hesitant, and there must be more gains with Sherlock, but this also put Mycroft's eyes on her side.

Although Sherlock and Mycroft confront each other, Francis will never doubt the concerted efforts of the Holmes brothers.

But now she seems to have no choice.

"Deal. However, everything between us must be kept secret from Mycroft."

"Deal."

Francis, wearing sunglasses, was playing with the plane ticket that Sherlock had given her.

"Your destination is not Rome." Sherlock stood beside Francis.

"Well, obviously," Francis said in a low voice, shrugging, "but I'm sure you've seen the agents Mycroft sent out. To be honest, with the most capable detectives in Britain around, I don't need them at all."

Hearing this, Sherlock was obviously pleased, and the corners of his mouth turned up slightly: "Mycroft's agents are getting worse and worse. I really wonder if the standard of MI5 has dropped."

"They're really bad at disguising. By the way, Rome is a very beautiful city, and it's a good place to choose sightseeing." Francis looked at the plane ticket in his hand.

"I thought you couldn't wait." Sherlock looked at Francis, and his deductive method told him that Francis wanted to fly to Emerald immediately, but her reason immediately curbed her behavior, which made Sherlock find it very interesting.

Francis said flatly: "I have been waiting for more than ten years, and I don't care about these few days."

She understands that the truth is a box.

Its name is Pandora.

The author has something to say: I feel sorry for my hairline.