[Comprehensive] Mrs. Holmes Daily

"Westminster Abbey? Are you kidding me?"

Ludwig said blankly:

"We're in France now, France, mind the location - Westminster Abbey is a British thing."

"Oh, Vichy, all you can say is that the most famous Westminster Abbey in the world is an English thing, and to borrow its great reputation, there are many smaller churches in the world with that name."

Sherlock calmly pointed to a point outside the window.

The heavy night has begun to dissipate, replaced by a dark blue clear night sky.

And the symbol of the Catholic Black Cross, standing there quietly, without any prominent place, is indeed very different from the gorgeous Westminster Abbey in England.

"The church was built in [-]. Ten years ago, its previous bishop had a pious girl in his parish crucified naked and then committed suicide."

Ludwig: "...you solved the case?"

"No, I just passed by this place a year after the incident."

Sherlock frowned:

"I just dug up the girl's grave out of boredom to confirm the religious ritual characteristics of her death method, but the people in that town were so rude, they did unimaginable things to me."

"...you're really boring."

Ludwig feels that things are definitely not that simple:

"Then?"

Sherlock said coldly: "Then? There is no more."

Ludwig: "No, there must be. You just said that the people in that town are rough...and your expression is wrong."

Sherlock stared straight ahead, intently:

"...Even if there is, why should I tell you?"

"That's right, why?"

Ludwig held his chin:

"Do you like my clothes? I couldn't find my silk shirt last time and found it in your closet, crumpled..."

"..."

Sherlock turned his head to look at her in a "swipe", and said quickly:

"Oh, I know what you're thinking, Vichy, but it's not because I have any particular preference or freakish sexual need for you, and it's not because I'm doing anything you imagine with it, It's because..."

Ludwig interrupted him with a wave of his hand:

"You don't need to explain, I can understand."

Sherlock, who was brutally deprived of the right to explain before he finished explaining:

"..."

He said blankly:

"No...you obviously don't understand at all."

"I really understand."

Ludwig held Sherlock's face in his hands, his eyes sincere:

"I know that a life of too much abstinence can sometimes lead to some abnormal psychology and behavior, which is not shameful, sir, but..."

Ludwig heaved a long sigh:

"But don't steal...it's bad, isn't it?"

Sherlock: "..."

"Don't feel embarrassed to say it. You are also 20 years old. It is normal to have such thoughts about your girlfriend-in the future, if you need it, say that I have a lot of clothes."

Ludwig stroked his curly black hair pityingly:

"Give as much as you want, and I will buy more if there is not enough."

"..."

Sherlock stared at her, under her playful gaze, trying to justify himself:

"I'm just testing the amount and distribution of mold in the closet. The silk and the color developer will react to each other to make them look crumpled. I still keep the identification results..."

She looked at him with a smile and nodded:

"Well, I trust you."

Sherlock: "..."

He finally found that in front of a person who deliberately misinterpreted his meaning, any excuses and evidences were pale.

Sure enough, at the next moment, Ludwig changed his tone:

"However, even if I can understand you, others may not be able to."

Sherlock looked at her fixedly:

"so?"

"So, let's make a deal."

Ludwig patted him on the shoulder with an innocent tone:

"You tell me what happened after you dug that girl's grave...or I'll tell Mrs Hudson you're a transvestite and tell her to keep her underwear."

"..."

Sherlock looked as if he had been forced to eat all the overnight food in London.

After a long time, he turned his head as if giving up, and said in an extremely reluctant tone:

"Actually, this is what happened..."

3 minute later.

Sherlock said calmly to the driver:

"No, don't listen to this lady, she's crazy, we're not going to that church..."

Driver: "But Ma'am... No, isn't Miss going to see wild boars?"

"..."

Sherlock said coldly:

"Of course we're not going to see wild boars..."

Beside him, there was a burst of laughter that was trying to suppress it, but obviously failed to suppress it, suddenly broke in and interrupted his words.

He paused, and continued expressionlessly:

"...We are going to the north bank, please turn back."

The car made a sharp turn, and the friction between the tires and the ground was particularly obvious in the silent night.

The source of the sound, which is as obvious as the harsh friction sound, is Ludwig.

"I thought……"

Sherlock finally couldn't ignore the obvious laughter of his little girlfriend, and turned his head with some annoyance:

"I thought you promised me not to laugh before I spoke."

"Where am I smiling?"

Ludwig patted the muscles on his face, trying to relax them a bit:

"I'm just working the facial muscles."

Sherlock: "..."

"But speaking of it, does Mycroft know that such a memorable event happened to you in France?"

Ludwig pulled the window glass with his hands, trying to bury his face in the glass.

Her back is like a cat, trembling with laughter:

"Hey, sir... have the boars finally caught up with you?"

"Obviously not. The advantage of humans is that they can combine routes, but pigs can't... pigs can only laugh."

Sherlock's tone was incredibly calm.

But no matter how Ludwig listened, he could hear a gnashing of teeth:

"Mycroft doesn't know...if I kill you here to silence him, he'll never know what happened to me in France."

"Kill me to silence?"

Ludwig raised his chin, exposing his slender neck.

In the dim light, it was a moonlight-like arc hidden in the night.

Her black eyes are full of smiles:

"Come on, I'm waiting for you to kill me... Otherwise, I really can't help laughing. I will definitely buy a wild boar statue at home and worship it."

"..."

Sherlock stared at the dazzling white arc and paused.

Immediately, his fingers seemed to have escaped the accusations of his brain, and the cold fingertips pressed against her slightly trembling throat, slowly, all the way down, to the center of the delicate collarbone.

There's a little depression there, like a little whirlpool.

His fingertips froze there - further down, it was her neckline embroidered with black beads.

Long jet-black hair, jet-black belt, beautifully stacked flowers...and on top of that, moonlight-like skin.

These are all shrouded in the dim light of street lamps outside the window.

— under his fingertips.

It seems that only a second has passed, and it seems that it has been a long time.

He suddenly let go:

"So why do you think Westminster Abbey is impossible?"

Ludwig didn't change all of a sudden—hey, why did the topic change so quickly?What about wild boar?

Probably because he felt that the question was too abrupt, Sherlock looked out of the car window at the lighted Cavalry Arc de Triomphe in the distance, and said calmly:

"Taxis in Paris are too expensive, we have to hurry up."

Ludwig: "..."

A man who uses such an expensive shirt as a rag to wipe test tubes is not qualified to say such a thing!

However, she restrained herself a bit and stopped laughing:

"You see, the lollipops that were used as clues before, the prince's ready-to-wear, are all things he likes. And my father hates Westminster Abbey in England-don't look at me like that, I'm from him found in his diary."

That's right, it's Professor Ludwig's diary.

When she first came to France, she wanted to find out what happened to her, so she actually did a word-by-word lookup in the dictionary to peek into privacy.

What a bitter tear.

"And the other churches called Westminster are somewhat inspired by England ... so I don't think he would use that as a code."

"It's also possible that your father studied the Egyptian culture of the immortality of the dead. He is used to seeing the huge tombs built by the Egyptians for the dead, and the rich burials that filled the entire warehouse."

Sherlock raised his eyebrows:

"By contrast, the crude funeral at Westminster Abbey was unbearable."

"not like this."

Ludwig paused:

"The reason he hated Westminster Abbey was because he wanted to be buried there, but his application was rejected - the authorities didn't think he was qualified."

Sherlock: "..."

It's not enough.

Where is Westminster Abbey?

Rather than saying that it is the royal church and the most sacred place of the British Catholic Church, it is better to say that it is a huge cemetery.

Newton, Faraday, Darwin, Milton, Chamberlain... This huge western cathedral houses more than 3000 skeletons, all of whom have influenced the world.

If Professor Ludwig lives another 30 years, it is possible to find a place there.

But he died too early.

No amount of talent is buried under the black silt of the Nile.

……

"And I can't figure out why you think Westminster is the clue... The third road sign is the river and the ferryman. What does this have to do with Westminster Abbey."

Ludwig knocked on the window, and the cross of the church outside the window was hidden behind the layers of roofs.

—Didn't Sherlock say that the clue was in the church?

But now how to go further and further away?

"Because Westminster Abbey is the most luxurious cemetery in the world... the abode of the dead, so to speak, that every rose in its garden is inhabited by a soul."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes:

"With this in mind, the answer has already come out. In French, the French for 'ferryman' is—"

"passeur."

Ludwig said slowly:

"Pas and seur."

"That's right, pas, pass, and the etymology of seur is soul... the combination is passsoul."

He raised the corner of his mouth:

"If you use the habit of you literaryists, you want to translate it a little deeper, that is, 'passing through the place where the soul wanders'."

By where the soul wanders - by Westminster Abbey.

"If it's what you say, we should go to the church if we don't see the wild boar."

Ludwig suddenly opened the car window:

"But now, why do I feel that we are heading to the Louvre?"