[Detective Sherlock] Rococo who sees through everything

On the third day of Mrs. Hudson's absence, Rococo, the part-time nanny, had the idea of ​​"Hey, MB, go to sleep" several times.

An adult whose body temperature rose to 38 degrees Celsius was always thinking about any cases that would come to his door. This was simply living in a dream.

=. =

Rococo, who was carrying a thermos bucket filled with chicken soup, just opened the door of 221B when he heard gunshots from the second floor.

A case really came to my door Σ(°△°|||)

The first reaction in Rococo's head was the scene of Sherlock lying in a pool of blood. She quickly dialed 999 emergency number, picked up a mop and rushed upstairs. Pushing open the door of Sherlock's living room, Rococo, who was holding a mop, stood there for three seconds in a daze.

Sherlock was sitting on the bed, wrapped in the striped blue nightgown, holding a pistol with the muzzle pointing upwards and green smoke spreading into the air. The wall opposite him was lined up with bullet holes one by one. It was vaguely seen as a smiling face.

she knows...

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"Rococo, what are you doing with the mop?" Sherlock frowned puzzled.

What are you doing?Want to hit someone with it.

She sighed deeply, put the mop down and called 999 again.

"Yes, it's still me. It's a misunderstanding. You don't need to call the police... Um, they're already on their way? I'm very sorry, let them go back." She was so afraid that her credit record would be marked down.

Who is to blame?

She glanced at Sherlock on the bed.

[Gunshot + mop + call the police → think something happened to me? ]

His puzzled expression softened a bit.

"Sir, can you tell me why you're wasting ammo on the walls of your living room with a high fever?"

She asked dissatisfied as she stuffed her BlackBerry back into her pocket.

"Boring, so boring!" He repeated the same word, "Rococo, do you know how boring I am?"

Rococo put the small thermos on Sherlock's bedside table, and shook his head noncommittally: "I don't know, I only know that you still have a fever, Mrs. Hudson is still hiking, and I, as your assistant, come out of Humanitarians took care of you for two days, but you didn’t take a good rest and held up a gun to the wall and made a smiling face.”

Hi you MB hurry to sleep!

[sleep? × (Rococo always looks at people’s suspicious behavior) is still under investigation——]

Because Rococo refused to tell Sherlock about it when he woke up the day before yesterday, the detective obsessed with secrecy refused to be fooled again.

At least judging from the increasingly clear font inside the bubble, Sherlock's illness is improving.

"What is this?" Sherlock glanced at the thermos beside him.

"The ancestral secret recipe that can cure all diseases can climb the fifth floor in one breath."

Rococo unscrewed the lid, and the room was filled with the fresh aroma of chicken soup.She shoved the thermos and a spoon into Sherlock's hands.

There are only frozen chickens suitable for frying in British supermarkets. For this chicken, Rococo went to Chinatown in London.

The moment she drank the chicken soup, she was moved to tears by her craftsmanship.

"Why don't you give me a fork?" Sherlock didn't move, but flipped the spoon a few times before his eyes.

[spoon → drink soup?Throw away the soup and eat again? ]

"You drink chicken soup with a fork?" Rococo could no longer follow the detective's logic.

[vegetarian?Drink clear soup without curry? ] (Note: The UK generally eats British curry chicken soup with chicken pieces)

Sherlock still didn't drink, and continued to examine the bowl of soup.

[Possibility and content of sleeping pills? ]

Don't drink it back to her =. =

After taking a sip, Sherlock's bubbles seemed to have added special effects, and the whole "duang" took a moment, and then he used a spoon to scoop up several spoonfuls one after another.

Question: Can you get a salary increase if you grab the boss's stomach?

Then this one, who didn't know if he could get a salary increase because of a bowl of chicken soup, had a fever and couldn't sleep. Boss, his brain started to toss again.

[Rococo-cooked (good taste) chicken soup without curry and no meat (British cuisine ×); both parents are European (European cuisine ×) → 80% possibility of oriental cuisine, the specifics need to be studied. ]

Then the information about this bowl of chicken soup was also stored by Sherlock in the thinking storage cabinet that contained many Rococo secrets.

She is really a fucking dog to cook this bowl of chicken soup out of humanitarianism. [The door latch downstairs of the folding mop was knocked rhythmically three times.

Rococo naturally thought that it was Mrs. Hudson who came back, and [three neat knocks on the door → Mycroft with a slight obsessive-compulsive disorder] jumped out of Sherlock's bubble, pointing out that the visitor was the "government normal staff".

How did the hanger that you know who it is when you hear the knock on the door come out?

"Count 40 seconds before opening the door. If there is no urgent matter, he will leave naturally." Sherlock drank the small bucket of chicken soup leisurely.

Rococo shrugged, this kind of brother really is his own brother.

Just when he saw the bubble through the cat's eyes, Luo Keke knew that there would be no other person outside the door except the "government clerk".

Every corner of the huge bubble hides the secrets of the dark side of the country. Countless messy and irrelevant information is strung together to form a weapon that can affect national policy decisions... It's still scary. _(:з」∠)_

Mycroft was not surprised to see that it was Rococo who opened the door. He straightened his collar and walked in dignifiedly, holding the long black umbrella that never left his body in rain or shine.

"I'm still staying at the door, which means I do have something to do." He seemed to have expected that the little wait was arranged by Sherlock, "So, where is Sherlock?"

"Your brother is waiting upstairs to meet you with a high fever. I hope you can bring him a thousand-year-old mystery." Rococo raised his eyebrows helplessly, "I hope the mystery you brought Can be untied before he burns stupid."

Although Sherlock didn't say that, she didn't add too much oil and vinegar, except for the "burn stupid" sentence.

When Rococo followed Mycroft back to Sherlock's living room, Sherlock was looking at her advertising paper under the thermos.

There was still an aroma of chicken soup in the living room.

"Obviously your weight loss plan isn't effective." Sherlock flipped the advertisement paper over and over.

The majestic words in Mycroft's bubble were swept away.

"It's none of your business." He said it emphatically, the word "lose weight" clearly hurting him.

As Mycroft looked at every direction in the room, the advertisement paper in Sherlock's hand, the empty thermos bucket and the hole in the wall appeared in his bubble.

"Are you sick?" he said without concern or anything, "but obviously my brother is well taken care of. At least there's a smiling face on the wall."

Brothers meet and ridicule.

Unrelated person Rococo, in order to avoid being involved in this bloody (actually already involved) war, it is better to sit outside for a while_(:з」∠)_

"No, Miss Rococo, if you go out, I'm afraid my younger brother won't be able to listen to any of my next words."

Mycroft straddled the long umbrella and stopped Rococo who took two steps back to leave the living room.

"I'm afraid it makes the same difference if I am there or not, Mr Mycroft Holmes."

Luo Keke didn't dare to push the umbrella in front of him with his hands. Who knows if this "little employee"'s umbrella has any secret mechanism, and it shot two poisonous thorns to make her whine for a second.

Mycroft pouted, but did not respond to Rococo's words.And Sherlock hadn't looked at him since he entered the door, and continued flipping through the advertisement paper.

Finally, this "little government employee" doesn't want to waste his precious time anymore. You must know that a small decision of his can determine whether tomorrow's stockholders will be sad or happy.

"I just came here today to tell you that there are no unsolved mysteries for a thousand years, and you'd better not worry about certain things."

"It's up to me to decide."

The tone of the two is worse than the other.

What the hell?

Why can Rococo understand every word, but can't understand the meaning of the sentence together?

Mycroft turned, with a politician's smile on his face, and whispered as he passed the Rococo, "How was living with my brother?"

Rococo didn't refute it, she knew just by passing through the air bubbles that it was impossible for this man whose blood was similar to Sherlock's to fail to see that she had never stayed in 221B.

"At least I won't worry about weight gain and hairline rising." She deeply felt that she had also grasped the essence of irony.

Mycroft didn't mind this, he smiled and said "Miss Rococo, see you next time." He walked out with his long-handled black umbrella.

As soon as he turned around, Sherlock jumped off the bed and rushed into the cloakroom.

"Mr. Holmes, you..."

She remembered that she just boiled chicken soup and did not give him chicken blood ←_←

"I took my temperature before you came, and it was 98.24 Fahrenheit." (36.8℃)

Sherlock's voice came from the cloakroom.

Damn it, he lied to her about a bowl of chicken soup, and she thought that this chicken soup really "cures all diseases". [Manual goodbye Rococo picked up the note that Sherlock had been flipping back and forth before, and his previous focus had been on it.

Advertisement language: Good news, good news, as long as you are a redhead, a high-paying redhead will welcome you.

What is the difference between this and the part-time job scam advertisements distributed by schools in the past?

When he came out of the cloakroom, Sherlock was already fully equipped: woolen coat and dark blue scarf.

Inside the bubble above his head is a temperature: [99.5℉√] (99.5°F = 37.5°C)

Apparently, Sherlock had lied, he wasn't completely fever-free.

Break your MB case, go to bed quickly!

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