[Zongyingmi] She is a princess and not sick

The author has something to say: At the beginning of writing, I didn't think my writing was very good, and the language of plot construction was also quite bad, but thank you for your support.Now almost the development of the whole story is more and more mature, thank you for your love for the article.

Thanks to the readers 'Yueyao Zi', 'Daoqing' and '_哦哟哭' for their nutrient solution

Thanks to readers 'Jin Xiaoyuan', 'Kangaroo', 'hpc', 'Lanlan', 'Qingmo', 'Taoyao', '648938' for mines and grenades.

There are also a series of comments from readers such as 'LXY', 'Late Come to the Sky for Snow', 'Twenty-Two Cool and White', 'Nine Nine', 'Liu Liao', 'Please Call Me Master Zong Gong' and so on.

Thank you, this is the motivation for me to write this article.

Frances is back in London, four days before her birthday party. ,

At London's international airport, McCoff still picked her up in a three-piece suit, but it always felt different.

"Well, you look radiant. I left for a week, what have you experienced?" Francis looked at McCoff who helped her open the door, and sat in the car with a smile, "Long time no see, Anthea."

"Good day, Your Highness."

"Sir, how are Sherlock and Watson? Are you happy living together?"

Mycroft got into the car and handed an iPad to Francis, who accepted it suspiciously, and McCoff explained: "Maybe, you would like to read Watson's blog, it's very interesting."

"Pink research?! Isn't this the first case they collaborated on?" Francis looked at it for a while, and she exclaimed, "If Watson doesn't become a doctor, it's really good to be a writer."

She looked at Mycroft with a smile, and she laughed: "Watson has used all the praise words that can be used on Sherlock. But he is definitely a high-level black. Seriously, sir, Sherlock I really don’t know that the earth revolves around the sun? So after literature, is astronomy lying on the ground again? If Copernicus could pry open his coffin correctly, I believe he would not hesitate.”

"It's a pity that Copernicus was a blind man."

"It doesn't mean that Sherlock can dance on his coffin. How about his dancing skills?" Francis defended Copernicus.

"You want to invite him to your birthday party?" Mycroft didn't think it was a good idea, his younger brother was not very social, especially at a party in the center of British power, it would be a disaster.

"You don't want him to go? Why? You never attend my birthday party, which doesn't mean that Sherlock won't either?" Francis complained about this point. The British government never attends birthday parties, wedding banquets, baptisms and birthday parties. , he can always find all kinds of reasons, and he is well-mannered.

God knows how much she hates this.

Just as Mycroft was about to say something, Francis said, "I'd better ask him myself."

Francis missed McCoff's complex expression.

He quickly collected his emotions, and he said to the young princess: "I think you would like to see your dress first."

"Yes, it's a disaster if you don't choose well." Francis rubbed his eyebrows and said, "Every time William travels, I think it's a disaster. I really hope Kate can save my taste."

He is obviously a handsome prince, but every time he goes out, he can dress like a village cadre in addition to the military uniform, which is really tiring.

"I don't think you will be disappointed. The skirt has already been shipped to 221C." A smile appeared on Mycroft's cold face.

The car drove into Baker Street. Although no one lived in 221C for a week, it was still as clean as new. Someone came to clean it regularly and help her fill the food in the refrigerator.

Francis went upstairs, and Mycroft and Anthea were waiting downstairs. Anthea suddenly thought that the jewelry that Her Royal Highness matched had not been picked up yet, so she went to go to the jewelry first.

Downstairs there was only Mycroft alone.

He looked at 221C, which had the same layout as Kensington Palace, and wondered if this was a wrong move to make Francis more immersed in the past.

Mycroft fell into thinking that emotion is a more difficult problem to overcome than intelligence.

"Anthea, Anthea. I need your help." Francis' cry from above interrupted Mycroft's thoughts.

Francis went upstairs and saw the sky blue dress that was hung up. It really fit her aesthetics. She liked blue, just like her mother.

This skirt is in the style of a traditional evening dress, with a slightly flared skirt below the waist, and embroidered robins symbolizing happiness on the skirt.

That is her favorite bird.

She took off the skirt, and it felt silky and satin when she touched it. She gestured on her body in front of the mirror, and a few strands of golden hair hung down.

It's such a pleasure.

Frances began to try on the dress, which was exactly her size and fit without incident, except that the zipper at the back was not long enough for her hands to reach, and she remembered that Anthea was still downstairs, and she needed Anthea's help.

But Francis didn't expect that it was Mycroft who came up, and she suddenly showed a somewhat embarrassed expression.

Mycroft raised an eyebrow at her: "What's wrong?"

Francis tilted his head and shrugged: "I can't zip up the back, isn't Anthea here?"

"She's going to pick up the jewelry you need to wear on the day of the banquet." Mycroft took a small step forward, "I'll help you."

Francis nodded, and she turned around obediently, showing her back.

The zipper was opened all the way to the waist, and Mycroft could see the lines of her beautiful back, the deep waist, the protruding shoulder blades on the back, and a large expanse of fair skin.

Frances could tell he was taking her zipping seriously, not too fast, just like his man.

There was a place in her heart that softened.

However, his fingers were a little cold, the only thing Francis felt, and she felt goosebumps on her arms because of it.

"All right."

Francis turned around, and she spread her hands at Mycroft with a smile: "What do you think of me?"

Mycroft looked at the blonde girl in front of him, she was indeed beautiful: "Wonderful."

"I remembered that I still have a pair of shoes that fit it very well." Francis said it was of course the skirt, and she lifted the skirt and went to open her wardrobe.

Mycroft watched her squatting looking for shoes. He remembered that when they first met, she was only as tall as she was squatting now. He pursed his lips, and from the corner of his eyes, he saw a skirt, a dark green skirt that was almost black. She had a tawny owl embroidered on her sleeve.

He never saw Francis cross.

New clothes?

"Look, how about these shoes?" Francis picked up a pair of white high heels, simple and elegant, designed by Zhou Yangjie, which was her mother's favorite designer.

"very beautiful."

Frances sat on her bed and tried on her shoes. When she stood up, she obviously felt taller, but the burden on her feet was not so heavy.

"I think a birthday party will have to be danced. Who do you think I should start with, Philip or Charles, or William and Henry?"

"If the queen also dances, I suggest you choose Prince Henry."

Francis frowned. "Oh, obviously. Charles has Camilla, William has Kate, but Henry has Chelsea too. Oh, God, if I dance with other men, it will be a disaster in the future. Maybe I should dance with Prime Minister Cameron."

"I suggest you invite a younger man. How about your cousin, Viscount Spencer?"

Francis' eyes lit up: "That's really a good choice. Although this is a big family, I still feel that my brothers are too few."

"It's because you're too young."

"Nonsense, Louisa is ten years younger than me." Francis sat back on the bed and retorted, "Sir, how old are you and Sherlock?"

Speaking of Sherlock, Mycroft couldn't help but licked his decayed tooth: "Seven years old. What?"

"I imagine it must be hard being an older brother. Is Sherlock going out with Watson again to solve crimes?" Frances began to take off her shoes.

"Yes, he just rejected my case yesterday. It seems that someone has turned on him again." Mycroft was very dissatisfied with the fact that the younger brother asked Watson to run errands.

"Wow, he must be busy then." Francis turned away, and Mycroft unzipped her back.

"Go to lunch later, I'll wait for you downstairs."

Francis curled his lips: "Don't hold on to the toothache. Do you want to eat liquid food together? Sir?"