Baker Street Charterers

In the deep winter when the cold wind was howling outside the window, Holmes sat on the soft and comfortable sofa, and the fireplace in the living room was burning brightly, making the room as warm as spring.

The black tea was gurgling in the kitchen, and the rich aroma wafted through the whole room.And when Watson came to visit his old friend with Mary, who had just recovered, he was fascinated by the fragrance as soon as he entered the room.

"Ceylon Highland Black Tea!" Watson sniffed the smell deeply, with an obsessive expression on his face, "Oh, I can't get tired of smelling this smell... Sherlock, did you know that we were coming, so you brought it here specially? Are you entertaining us?"

Holmes lazily stood up as if waking up from a dream, took out the teapot from the kitchen, refilled himself a cup slowly, and then said in a dragged voice, "Of course...not."

Watson turned to his wife helplessly and said, "Okay, I lost."

Mary dragged off her coat gracefully. She was wearing the water red velvet dress sent by the "mysterious man". She was a little plumper than before giving birth, but she looked more energetic. Obviously, this dress perfectly complemented her All good points.

"We made a bet on the way here," said Mary, laughing, "that Sherlock Holmes would not lose his spirits because of someone's departure. My answer is no, obviously. Won."

The word "you" subtly reveals a lot of unknown information.

"Honey, if it were me, I would be very sad for your temporary departure." Watson said flatteringly, but his wife didn't buy it at all, "I understand, but you still have to clean up tonight House, don't try to renege on your debts, my dear."

Watson grimaced.

Holmes watched all this with interest, and at last he tapped his fingers on the glass and uttered a soft, regular moan, "Are you all here just to quarrel?"

"What do you know," retorted Watson, who had lost the bet because of him, "any gentleman who really loves his partner will be sad at parting from each other... This is love, true love."

Holmes calmly blew on the steaming black tea, looked at the slight waves on the water surface, seemed to find it boring, and said lazily with a "bored" look on his face, "True love that ends with cleaning the house, oh yes , This is really a model that gentlemen all over the world should be fascinated by and should be remembered in history books."

Watson, "..."

"You really shouldn't provoke Sherlock Holmes like this," Mary couldn't help laughing. "He is Sherlock Holmes. Even without Nora's company, he is still a Holmes."

When Holmes heard the name, he paused indistinctly, and his movements were almost imperceptible, but they still did not escape Mary's eyes. The elegant and beautiful lady couldn't help but said again, "But... look, Sherlock Holmes is also a man. , if it was normal, he should have taken several cases that aroused his interest, and he was running around in spite of the deep cold... But now he is sitting by the fire, reading a book--my dear, maybe you lost too much to imagine so miserable."

Watson, who hadn't shown his majesty in front of his wife, took the steps his wife had built for him, "...Thank you, Mary."

"I should concentrate now," said Holmes solemnly. "I have to admit that dealing with one Moriarty is enough for three mysteries that arouse my interest."

Watson looked at his teeth-itching appearance as usual, and couldn't help being curious, "You don't look like a broken-hearted man at all."

Holmes choked for a rare moment because of this sentence. He put down his teacup and looked at Watson with an incredulous expression on his face. His eyes seemed to be looking at a layer of humus that had been deposited for thousands of years. "Lovebroken?...Watson, Has married life completely rotted your brain?"

"He gained three catties," Mary couldn't help complaining, and then added a word sharply, "again."

Watson coughed in shame, "Okay, okay...I just feel sorry for Nora."

"Why are you complaining? Because I didn't show a heartbroken, melancholy expression, are you satisfied?" Holmes raised his eyebrows. "Why would I do that, Watson? Trying to pull me to the same level as you is never acceptable." It will work."

Watson covered his face, "Oh, I hate you."

Although Mary, Watson's wife, should come forward to defend him, she couldn't help but smile, so she just smoothed things over and said with a smile, "Okay, Sherlock, are we here today?" To flaunt Watson's increasing weight, we're here for you to name Watson Jr."

Holmes was taken aback.named?

Then he understood the whole story, took a sip of black tea slowly, and said, "I refuse."

Both husband and wife were taken aback. They didn't expect him to refuse. Watson asked directly, his face full of confusion, "Why? You are my best friend."

Holmes smiled. "Oh, that would be my honour, Watson. But before you came here, there was one person who had reserved his share in advance."

Watson pondered for a few seconds in distress, but he still couldn't think of any of his mutual friends with Holmes who had recently had a child.Can't help but ask, "Who is it?"

Holmes replied very seriously, "Little Holmes."

"..."

Watson stood there blankly, and Mary next to her couldn't help covering her mouth and laughing out loud.

"Well, well, that's a very good reason," she said. "It seems I've lost, my dear."

lost?What lost?

Watson turned his head to ask for clarification, but at this moment Holmes heard the knock on the door again. He stood up and opened the door. There was an unexpected person standing there, with snow falling on his shoulders. .

"Mr. Button," he heard Holmes's steady voice, "welcome to the humble house. This is a great surprise for us."

The Chief of Police, wearing a thick woolen coat, took off his tall hat and walked into the room with a chill in his body.He shook the snow on his shoulders, his gaze moved from Watson and Mary, and then to Holmes' face, his voice became deeper and more solemn because it was soaked in the light.

"We got her."

Watson's ears twitched, his mind was slackened by the lazy life after marriage, but he still couldn't help but get excited when he heard some news, and couldn't help asking, "Caught her? Who is she?"

Holmes blew on the black tea that was no longer steaming, and gently smelled the remaining aroma. Under the light of the burning fireplace, his gray eyes were extremely sharp and bright, as if there was a blade-like light flowing in them, but His movements are still slow and graceful, and his voice is still calm and deep.

"Who else could it be?" Sherlock Holmes smiled slightly and said softly, "Of course it is... a very important person."

"The Greek woman?" Mary asked.

Watson was stunned for a moment, and then immediately realized that he couldn't help casting admiring glances at his wife, but Barton couldn't help but frowned, and Mary immediately explained, "Watson once told me some of these adventure stories, I Guess it might be her."

"It seems that your wife is far more intelligent and useful than your husband in all respects," Holmes sighed.

Watson, "..."

Barton certainly knew the identities of the two sitting here. He didn't shy away from it, and said bluntly, "As you said, we ambush her in that 'shell' shop. We encountered the expected tenacious resistance, Fortunately, we had a large number of people and were well prepared, and finally caught her."

"Well done, Mr. Director." Holmes was not stingy with his praise and pleasure. It seemed that the laziness and even a little listless mood just disappeared in an instant. He couldn't hide his spirit and said, "A femme fatale, A sharpshooter, a doctor, an underground consortium... I think these are enough to make him unable to maintain his superficial calm, ha, this is really a heavy loss... very heavy."

"How did you know she would go there?" Barton finally couldn't resist his curiosity, his yellow lion-like eyes showed a hint of appreciation for the other party, and his tone became solemn, "There are countless perfumes and perfumes in this city. Essential oil shops, many of which are century-old and famous, why did you expect her to go to the 'shell'?"

"There are indeed hundreds of good shops selling essential oils here, but you may not have fought against her, but I have escaped from her fangs several times. Marianne—to be exact, the person codenamed Marianne Femme fatale, she is an orthodox Greek, and most likely a born aristocrat," Holmes analyzed in a calm tone, "she has good fashion sense, and she can't make her hair or Dressed in a mess, such a woman, of course, has strict requirements on the hair oil she uses."

"Oh yes, she likes to use hair oil. Don't ask me how I know it. You can tell it as soon as you smell it. There are at least jasmine, daffodils, tea tree seeds, and a rose that can only be produced in a special place—the rose from the East. Rose, which yields an oil that is both waxy and sweet-scented—of course, I don't expect you to notice the difference."

Barton gave a low cough.Holmes was so right that he could not even distinguish any of them.

"There are only three shops in London that can sell this kind of hair oil, and this 'shell' is the only one that provides customized services and can fully guarantee the safety of customers. After all, its owner is not small, and ordinary people cannot enjoy it. It's a unique service."

Button had a bad feeling, he frowned, "Its boss? Who is it?"

"Your former immediate boss," Holmes said calmly and naturally, "Adams Duane."

Barton, "..."

It was rare for the director to show such a gritted expression, "...Thank you so much, Sherlock Holmes."

"You've done a very good job, Mr. Button." Holmes patted him on the shoulder encouragingly, "We will go to the police station to interrogate that Miss Marianne with unique taste. As for you, Mr. Button... I think Du The person sent by Mr. An is already on the way, you can spend a few minutes here thinking about what you are going to say next."

The director tried his best to hold his expression, and he said dryly, "...there is another piece of news."

Holmes turned his head and cast a questioning look, "Oh?"

"When we went to seize the 'sweet candy', there was no one left there, only an empty room... oh yeah, that's all we found."

Barton took out a stone from his pocket, a heavy dark green stone.

sea ​​green stone.

There were many coasts all over England where such stones could be found, but of the people and places he had seen there was only one person he knew, and only one place he had seen with his own eyes.

Seeing Holmes staring intently at this ugly stone, Button frowned, "Is there something wrong, Holmes?"

"Oh, oh." Only then did Holmes come back to his senses. He showed a slightly strange smile, casually and inadvertently grabbed the stone into his palm, stroked it, and said softly, "There is nothing wrong. Just like I expected."

Barton, "As expected?"

"Someone sent me a message." Holmes lowered his head, stared at the unattractive stone, smiled, and his voice softened slightly. "I still remember the proprietress of 'Sweet Sugar' I told you about, and Sandra the redhead, the landlady's assistant?"

Barton nodded, "Of course, among Moriarty's minions, one is in charge of the money flow in London's underground brothels, and the other is an outstanding intelligence agent who betrays lust. The information obtained from those politicians made Moriah Dee has helped a lot.”

"Obviously, they got some news and planned to escape, but unfortunately they didn't succeed. Someone blocked them in advance." Holmes said.

"Who?" Barton asked subconsciously, and immediately denied it, "It's impossible, they had already fled before our people were dispatched, if it was a person, how could it be possible to stop them, Sandra would use a gun—— "

"She is not the only woman who knows how to shoot a gun." Holmes seemed a little careless. He seemed to think of something, and the smile in his eyes deepened. "She is not the only smart woman...you can always find a smarter one. "

Barton looked at his weird face and was silent for a few seconds, then suddenly thought of a question, "...Nora?"

Holmes neither admitted nor denied, and seemed to enjoy the moment surrounded by mystery, but Barton asked persistently, "How did she do it? I admit that maybe she is very skilled, you told me She even defeated that female killer once, but can she catch everyone in an undercover brothel?..."

"Use your brains, Mr. Button. Not everyone in the so-called dark-prostitution is willing to go in, and I guess there must be a lot of them."

After thinking about it, Barton immediately understood, "...you mean, that girl, Judy?"

Holmes shrugged his shoulders. "I didn't say anything."

Barton couldn't help showing a faint smile, "You are right, Holmes."

The big detective raised his eyebrows, "Oh?"

"That woman is indeed very smart. If it is really her, then I think I have to admire her courage, and of course it's not just courage."

Holmes cast a slow glance at him. "Indeed, and the most important point."

Barton looked over, "?"

"She's a woman in her own right."

Barton, Watson, Mary, "..."