[Comprehensive] Mrs. Holmes Daily

Seven fifteen in the morning, St. Mary's Hospital.

The long corridor seemed to have no end, and one by one ward doors passed by.

The long dark green ribbon on the wedding dress brushed against the lush heather leaves and large pale pink roses along the corridor.

...the rose is blooming.

The first floor of the hospital was quiet. In the distance, a little black girl was singing. The singing passed through the branches in the garden and echoed between the doorposts in the corridor.

It was music from ancient Africa, humming along with the black slave ships out of blood and death.

……

Ludwig was barefoot, and his shoes had been taken off while riding a motorcycle. The rough marble ground was grinding the soles of his feet, but the pain he felt was vague, as if it came from the depths of his consciousness.

...why is the road so long?Why can't I run to the end?

The lung lobes and the heart burn together, how long can it last?

The elevator went up to the fifth floor.

Before Ludwig ran to the door of An He's ward, he saw a nurse walking out of the ward calmly pushing a cart of equipment.

The nurse slowly passed by her... Even though she was still running just now, she felt soaked in water from head to toe and was wet.

Suddenly I forgot how to walk.

The nurse glanced at the wedding dress she was wearing indifferently, without pausing for a long time in her eyes, and pushed the cart, bells and whistles away.

……

There were still sounds in the ward, and the doctor hadn't finished walking.

Ludwig pushed open the door, and a young physician was pulling the needle out of Erich's arm.

A wisp of bright red blood slowly flowed out from his pale arm, winding out a faint bloodstain, which was wiped off by the doctor with a towel, and flowed out again.

There are little birds chirping outside the window... The singing hummed from the blood and death.

An He was still on the bed, covered with a white sheet, quiet and unconscious.

The thin morning light shrouded his face, so light that it seemed to disappear.

The blood left his body, the warmth was away from his palms... and he lay there without saying a word.

……

Ludwig stood at the door of the ward and didn't go any further.

The wind blew gently, the windows were all opened by someone, the curtains were lifted, and the thin white gauze curtains fluctuated, brushing against the withered lilies on the bedside table.

……

The young doctor packed up his equipment and raised his head. It was a German face.

He looked at Ludwig and said lightly:

"Who are you to Mr. Erich Percival?"

She looked up:

"family."

The doctor took off the stethoscope, put it in the pocket of his coat, and walked towards her:

"As far as I know, he has not submitted any relevant documents from his family, so you need to submit legal identification to the hospital to take him away, this is the procedure."

Ludwig grabbed the door frame and nodded: "I see."

The doctor patted her on the shoulder routinely and said:

"My condolences, miss, and please watch your skirt, your legs are probably bleeding."

……bleed?He is bleeding.

Ludwig looked at An He's face...his face was against the light, and she couldn't see it very clearly, so she took two steps forward, but stopped when she was about to reach the bed.

"doctor."

She suddenly asked:

"When did he die exactly?"

"the exact time?"

The young doctor looked at the clock:

"The death process did not last long... At [-]:[-] the spleen began to bleed, at [-]:[-] the heart stopped beating, and at [-]:[-] the brain death was confirmed."

Ludwig stood beside the bed, motionless, like a straight, silent shadow.

The doctor had seen this kind of scene a lot, and seeing that she hadn't made a sound for a long time, he opened the door and walked out.

……

The wall clock stands silently by the wall, no matter who lives in the ward, recovering or dying...it treats everyone equally, ticking forward.

... fourteen past seven?It's sixteen past seven.

It turns out that the difference between life and death is these 2 minutes.

Sixteen past seven, Baker Street.

Lestrade stared at the screen tightly:

"What the hell is going on here? Why didn't it explode?"

Sherlock stood silently until Donovan said "what the hell are you doing" and he remembered that he had forgotten to hang up the phone.

"Because there were no bombs at all."

He quickly took the laptop and typed a series of codes on the screen.

But obviously, he was...a step too late.

The expression did not become relaxed because the crisis passed, but became more and more serious:

"From the beginning to the end, he just wanted to destroy the relationship between me and Vichy. He obviously thought that love was my weakness... Last time in the casino, his intention was very obvious, but due to some kind of deviation in understanding, I Ruled out the possibility that his entire plan was aimed at Vichy."

——"Being dragged down by emotions, fooled by mortals, and fallen with these people who are as stupid as goldfish."

"He made such a big move just to ruin your relationship?"

Sherlock's eyes were cold.

In an underground casino, a young man in a beret poses frivolously.

He played with the tip of the knife with his fingertips like a flower.

——"The destruction of the pure body is really boring... I found a better way of destruction, a new game."

……

Sherlock paused and said:

"Of course it's more than that... This is just the prelude to the game."

And the ultimate goal of the game is to destroy.

Lestrade shook his head:

"Only you in the world can understand his unbelievable way of thinking... In my opinion, why don't you explain it to Vichy and make it clear to her that you want to save her?"

"Can't explain it... because I have no evidence."

Sherlock threw the computer on the sofa:

"The game video he sent just now is in a traceless format, and it will be automatically destroyed after 3 minutes. At that time, I was eager to save people and ignored this point."

His lips were tightly pursed into a line:

"And the street scene captured by the electronic eyes of the Transportation Bureau has been hacked and deleted during the minute we were waiting for the explosion... I wanted to rescue the last file just now, but it was still a step too late."

"How did he delete it?"

Lestrade frowned:

"We have been staring at the electronic eyes of the Transportation Bureau. If he invaded from another server, there is no reason why he couldn't find it."

"We didn't keep looking at the electronic eyes of the Traffic Bureau... In the last minute, when the scene cut to the entrance of St. Mary's Hospital, I used Mycroft's set for clarity... It was installed only two days ago, But having been spotted, I think Mycroft needs some time to sort out his little team."

"But there are witnesses... There are so many brides in the street, we can find many witnesses."

"Oh, Lestrade, don't be naive, he won't leave me with such an excuse."

Sherlock took his coat from the coat rack and put it on neatly:

"We look at the top view of the entire road, so we feel that there are many people... But in fact, there is one every 100 meters, and there are no more than 2 on the four streets, and the average time of appearance is no more than [-] minutes... In everyone When caring about the road conditions, how many people will pay attention to the flashing figure outside the car window?"

"Then what if I go to testify? And those traffic policemen on the street can also testify..."

"For proof, my bums took pictures too...but none of that worked."

His voice is low, the color of the metal on the strings of a violin:

"Because they are related to me, you are related to the government, and the government is Mycroft, my brother, these are all witnesses of interest...she will not believe it easily."

Moreover, for her, his obstruction was not the first time.

For the first time, he reminded her of Erich's possible identity and pierced her memory.

The second time, he prevented her from going to Egypt, threatened to make an emergency landing, and exposed evidence that her father's students had forged papers, causing her deal to fail, and she could only watch her old friend die in front of her eyes.

The third time... This is already the third time.

Even he had to marvel at Atum's eye for timing.

For the third time, will she trust him again?

……

Sherlock straightened his shirt collar, turned to face Lestrade, his eyes were cold:

"Obviously Atum has calculated every detail... This is indeed a rare and exciting opponent."

...It is indeed so rare to see, but you don't look passionate at all.

Lestrade was still half lying on the sofa, and glanced up at him:

"Are you ok?"

"of course."

He walked to the sofa, put the mobile phone that had been wet with the sweat from his palm back into his coat pocket, and looked down at Lestrade, his face as calm as ever:

"I'm very good."

"...I mean, if you're feeling alright, can you lift me off the damn floor instead of staring at me? You punched me so hard."

"……Feel sorry."

Sherlock finally realized how embarrassed Lestrade was in his current posture, and stretched out his hand to Lestrade.

Lestrade barely borrowed a little strength and sat back on the sofa:

"I accept your apology...but it really surprises me that you ever feel sorry?"

"Of course there is."

Sherlock said sarcastically:

"Because I didn't expect the detective of Scotland Yard to be so vulnerable... This shows that it is inaccurate to judge the attack power based on muscle alone, and the deductive reasoning method needs to be perfected."

... He suddenly didn't want to accept this apology again.

Sherlock took two steps by the sofa, stopped suddenly, and said as if admitting a very ordinary thing:

"In this round, due to some misunderstandings in my understanding, I was a little behind... But this is not the final result. The battle between me and him is not over yet."

Gaps in understanding?

Lestrade also sat up straight and seemed to have recovered:

"Overall, you still win. Don't forget, now the stronghold of the Egyptian Church in London has been wiped out by us. He is just a polished commander."

"This is where the problem lies."

Sherlock walked towards Ludwig's room:

"He doesn't care about those strongholds at all. What he cares about is the game itself, and he doesn't care about wealth and power. What he wants is the peak... the height of God."

Lestrade was silent for a while:

"So he has to beat you?"

"Or more appropriately - destroy me."

He put Ludwig's mobile phone in his coat pocket, and the package from the wedding dress was still on the bed. Sherlock glanced at the box, and his eyes suddenly froze.

He slowly tore off the label on the box and looked at it in front of his eyes.

Then, he took out his phone and sent a text message.

……

Lestrade's voice came from the living room:

"That Erich Percival, do we still have to investigate him?"

a long time.

After a long time, he heard Sherlock say softly:

"No...the charges against him have been withdrawn."

……

In the room, Sherlock looked at the few photos uploaded on the phone just now.

The photos are from homeless people he puts on the street, and they show close-ups of the wedding dresses worn by the fake brides.

The fabric is good, but it can be seen that the stitching is rushed, obviously a finished product made on the spur of the moment, and it is not at the same level as the one worn by Vichy.

If it wasn't for the low pixel resolution of the electronic eye, he would be able to recognize it from a distance of 100 meters.

The label on the box indicated that the wedding dress was designed by the customer himself, and the merchant was only responsible for the production.

The production time was a week ago, and there was only one piece when Erich was hospitalized.

... If Erich Percival and Atum were in the same group, with Atum's personality of pursuing perfection, he could have started preparations a week ago, and there was no reason to use such a rough defective product.

The only explanation is that they are not in the same group at all...Yatum found out about the relationship between Ai Ruixi and Vichy through some means, obtained a design sample of the wedding dress, used it conveniently, and directed and acted a wonderful show. Drama.

The first act of the play is Shakespeare, the owner of China Street.

Because he was busy with Ludwig's psychoanalysis and had to deal with Atum's endless tricks, these cases with less than three points were handed over to Lestrade, who only asked about the final result.

— the start of a mistake.

And the time when the main part of the drama begins is when Ludwig puts on her wedding dress to meet Erich... Whenever she puts on her wedding dress and walks out of Baker Street, this farce will be staged.

I'm afraid even the taxi driver was arranged.

He clearly remembered that when she went out, not only did she not bring her mobile phone, but she also didn't bring any money - which driver would let her take the Bawang car so easily when the roads were congested and it was impossible to run away?

……

Next to the curtain is Ludwig's desk. There are no cosmetics or jewelry on it. The desk is clean. There is only a bottle of ink and a pen beside the lamp.

The changed shoes and clothes were messily placed beside the bed. She hadn't been back to Baker Street for two days, busy with death and...him.

She would never see the cafe owner for the last time... because of him.

This was Atum's first step in destroying him.

In order to create an irreparable gap, Erich must die before she arrives.

… What are the steps involved in killing a dying person?

No, not even steps are required.

It is as easy as crushing a flower, all it takes is a gust of wind, and the fragrance is gone.

……

Sherlock slowly put the phone back into his coat pocket.

... Now he is not at a loss for words.

Mycroft was right, he was too desperate to prove a point, too desperate to get an image out of her mind... that he was so rash to speak his own guesses.

Even when he said it, he had pointed out that it was just a speculation to discourage her from taking risks, even if at that time, the evidence was actually sufficient to draw a conclusion...But misleading is misleading, and there is no reason to excuse him.

……

Sherlock closed the door of the room without a word.

Lestrade said behind him, "Are you going to the hospital now?"

"Ah."

Lestrade looked at his slender back:

"You better make sure you're going to comfort her, not make things worse."

"..."

As if hesitating for a moment, Lestrade spoke again when he walked to the door:

"You said that you made the mistake because of a deviation in understanding... What is that deviation?"

The vibration in the pocket rang, and Sherlock took it out to look at it blankly, and then put the phone back blankly.

He put his hand on the cold silver doorknob .

"It's the word 'conquer' . . . to be conquered means not yet attained."

—so he ruled out Ludwig.

He turned the doorknob and said flatly:

"And at that time, I thought...that was already mine."

……

On the screen of the phone that has not yet dimmed, you can still see clearly that the message just now was a short sentence.

That was the first half of the oracle that Alexander asked God Amon in Egypt. After hundreds of years, it sounded again in a dirty underground casino in London, and now it appeared on his mobile phone——

"You will conquer the world, but only one step away."