[Comprehensive] Mrs. Holmes Daily

Professor Ludwig is knowledgeable and respected. His knowledge of Egyptian culture can only be compared with Shang Boliang. Every book is a masterpiece.

But Ludwig felt that her father's high achievement was entirely due to the invention of the typewriter.

Because his handwriting...is too ugly.

After a long silence, Sherlock broke the silence:

"His handwriting resembles yours."

Ludwig: "... I am not very happy to hear this evaluation."

"Especially now that you all like to tick the tail of a capital a."

Sherlock didn't mind her interruption.

He was silent for a while, then suddenly said:

"If only I could have known you earlier, Vichy."

Ludwig smiled:

"If you knew me a few years earlier, we would probably have fought when we introduced ourselves... I was not as easy to talk to as I am now when I was a child. I like the feeling of holding a dagger."

... No, you like it now too.

Sherlock remembered the way she handled the sashimi with the knife, and wisely decided not to comment on it.

"But I can at least lend you some money so that you can buy a better handwriting template, because judging from the structure of your fonts, you are imitating his style... It's a disaster."

"..."

Ludwig didn't refute him, anyway, Sherlock didn't really think her ugly, he just watched her keep silent for too long.

She stood silently for a while in front of the pyramid.

Under the black night, the words on the pyramid shone with a strange light of lavender blue, and the strokes were connected.Like the starry sky she saw on the mountain at an altitude of 4000 meters, it twinkled in the clear night sky.

It was her ninth birthday present, and she was way too late.

Now that her mother, Caroline, is dead, no one will write the words anymore, and it won't be long before they disappear completely.

disappear completely.

……

Ludwig smiled slightly, turned around, and spoke briskly:

"Let's go."

Sherlock stared at her without moving:

"If you need to borrow my arms to cry for a while, I can lend them, reluctantly..."

"No, I don't need to."

Ludwig looked at the glass pyramid again—she turned off the black light, and the words were no longer visible under the natural light band.

"Someone loves me, why should I cry? But you... Hey, can you uncuff my hands now? My father will chase you for three blocks when he sees you mistreating his daughter like this. "

"Then please tell Mr. Ludwig that he had better bring his own GPS."

Sherlock looked at her and hooked the corners of his lips:

"Because judging from the extent to which his daughter can't tell the difference between east, west, and north, he probably won't get lost without chasing me for three blocks."

Ludwig: "...I have a good sense of direction, thank you."

"is it?"

Sherlock raised his eyebrows:

"Then please tell me, Miss with a good sense of direction, where is the south now?"

Ludwig: "..."

The steel rings on the wrists clashed and jingled.

She knew why he locked her up, so she wanted to unlock it all the more.

Right here, where she left him.

……

Ludwig raised his head: "Solution."

"There is no room for negotiation on this matter."

Sherlock said softly:

"In view of your serious criminal record, Miss Ludwig, I will not restrict your freedom, but at the same time, I no longer trust your words and deeds."

As long as Sherlock is willing, he can never forget one thing.

He will always remember how she lied and how she used the lie to get away from him.

……

Hey, do you have to be tied like this when you go out in the future?

Ludwig really wanted to ask: "Sir, are you following me to the supermarket?" Or more ruthlessly: "Sir, are you following me to the women's bathroom?"

But she would never take the initiative to hit the muzzle when Sherlock turned over old scores.

That's terrible.

So she just shook her hand and smiled slightly:

"But if we tie our hands, what should I do when I want to hug you in the street?"

……

Language, is roundabout.

And we usually call this detour - rhetoric.

……

Sherlock looked at her, eyes narrowed, as if assessing her credibility.

"I want to hug you right now, sir."

Ludwig folded his arms and tilted his head slightly:

"Just untie it for a while."

He was silent for a moment, glancing at their joined hands.

After all, it was made of metal, and her slender wrist was a little red from abrasion.

"Okay, but only for a little while."

Sherlock finally let go, even though his tone was still slightly reluctant:

"And you can't leave me for three diameters..."

He didn't finish his sentence, because his Miss Ludwig had already opened her arms and embraced him.

"...A place a few meters away."

Her face was pressed against his chest, and the May wind blew from a distance with the moisture of the Seine and the fragrance of roses.

It's almost summer.

Sherlock slowly reached out, wrapping his arms around her shoulders.

"Are you ok?"

"It's fine, but there's something I need to tell you."

"what?"

"My illness is cured, you don't have to force me to take medicine anymore."

……

For a while, Sherlock didn't speak.

Then, his deep cello-like voice permeated the dense night:

"why?"

Ludwig put his chin on his shoulder and whispered as softly as the wind:

"I had a very long dream."

In the empty Louvre Square, next to the huge pyramid, Sherlock hugged her:

"Ah."

"In my dream, I got on a train... there was only one passenger on the train, Serge Gainsbourg."

Sherlock was silent for a while:

"Where is this train going?"

"I do not know."

Ludwig lay on his shoulders, closed his eyes:

"Then one day, I woke up... the moment I woke up, I thought the train and the passengers were all a dream..."

Her nails were slowly digging into the folds of Sherlock's cashmere coat, and her closed eyes had opened.

The unreachable starlight fell on her eyes, and she lowered her eyelashes:

"But I found out that these are all true... I am really on a train, the scenery around me is strange, the direction I am going in is also strange, and I have... can't stop..."

Sherlock didn't speak.

Ludwig let go of him and slowly started to back away.

One step, two steps, three steps...

Sherlock said she was not allowed to be three meters away from him, but she had already exceeded this limit.

She stopped four or five meters away from him.

Then, she held out her hand to Sherlock.

……

The old vagabond crouched under the glorious Roman columns of the Louvre, holding a broken guitar in his hand, playing a lonely tune like a bard thousands of years ago.

It's just that the monarch no longer needs to rely on their poems praising the goddess.

……

Sherlock didn't move or respond to her mid-air hand.

"You said there was only one passenger on the train, Serge Gainsbourg... so who are you? The conductor, or..."

He stood there silently:

"...the conductor?"

Ludwig looked at him.

After a long time, she smiled, and withdrew her hand outstretched in the air:

"I forgot... forgot."

"You don't grab when I reach out, and you don't grab when I don't reach out... Hey, sir, I want to get in the car."

"I only promise you to untie it for a while."

Sherlock let go of her wrist, watched her climb into the taxi, and then got in himself:

"And not too late."

"No, it's too late, my hand is overdue."

Ludwig smiled at him:

"Bye-Bye."

Sherlock: "..."

This time they didn’t go the same way. Ludwig insisted on going from the left bank because she was hungry, and there was a 24-hour bookstore restaurant she liked very much on the left bank of the Seine, called “The Rest”.

It was almost ten o'clock in the evening, and many shops in the Latin Quarter were closed, but a few of the bookstores and small independent theaters she used to frequent were still open.

The car drove slowly through the Saint-Germain district, and not far away, you could see the steeple of the church standing in the bustling alley, surrounded by rows of galleries and bookstores.

"That's Saint-Sulpice Cathedral."

Sherlock suddenly said softly:

"This was originally not a Catholic church, but a shrine to the goddess Isis."

The gods fought melee because of humans, and finally Catholicism won the victory. The old temple was pulled down, and the new god stood on the original ruins.

Ludwig looked out the window:

"Isis has been showing up a lot lately."

"Because the case we're solving is related to Egypt."

Sherlock's hand habitually held her finger, and the cold ring lay between them:

"Speaking of which, the ring on your hand represents the Knot of Isis, which means the same thing as the Egyptian 'Anka', and both represent life."

life?

Ludwig withdrew his hand, stroked the ring slowly, and did not speak.

She didn't know it was a knot, a religious symbol.

"What did the cafe owner tell you when he gave you a birthday present?"

An He and her... what did they say?

——"Under all these seemingly disordered appearances, there are harsh rules hidden. Just like a leaf is about to wither, then, even on a bright spring day, it can only wither..."

An He was standing under the dim light of the old-fashioned wooden ladder, smiled slightly, and said:

"If you encounter it, remember never to touch it."

……

He gave her a ring representing life.

His body was inexplicably exhausted in his 20s.

...and also, her mother's aging face in order to continue her life.

All these flashed past her eyes like a revolving lantern theater.

——There is no life that comes for nothing.

……

Ludwig raised his eyes and looked at the starry night outside the window... Every star is like the eyes of peace, so clear, like the white snow on a high mountain, reflecting its luster in the bright sunlight.

……

And she just looked at the distant, untouchable night sky, and said softly:

"I forgot... forgot."

When the sun rose again, Mr. Sherlock Holmes had never been so conscious that announcing his marriage to Miss Ludwig should be on the agenda.

Because his fiancée, who didn't know about it last night, was still enthusiastically planning to go to Germany to watch a beer exhibition the day after tomorrow, and then go to Greece the day after tomorrow... Of course, she was traveling alone.

—Very well, they will get married the day after tomorrow.

As soon as she finished the exam, her heart immediately flew to the whole world, and she didn't stop at her lover at all.

Sherlock drew back the curtains.

The thin morning sun came in through the window and fell on his sleeping little girlfriend.

Her fair skin was like caramel melting in the sun.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes and waited for a while. He estimated that the time was almost up, so he walked to the bed and patted her on the shoulder.

Ludwig moved slowly, and his eyelashes also moved.

——Sleeping Beauty is getting up now?

Ludwig stretched out his hand unconsciously, covering his eyes with his arm, and then... turned his head to the side, and fell asleep again.

Sherlock watched her movements inscrutably - well, he miscalculated.

The unorthodox Sleeping Beauty is clearly planning to stay in bed.

But at least he can be sure that sunshine has a lot to do with his girlfriend's mental state... because he couldn't make her move in her sleep two days ago.

Well, in a humanitarian spirit, he would be merciful not to wake her.

So he just walked out of the room, took the potassium chlorate off the shelf, picked some potassium chlorate, put it in a test tube, heated it up, and casually dropped a... sugar cube into the test tube.

Potassium chlorate is dangerous when heated.

——"Boom!"

The heated potassium chlorate releases oxygen, and the sugar cube is a carbon-containing combustible substance. The combination of the two...exploded.

"Oh my God, what's going on?"

Ludwig was wrapped in a sheet, jumped up from the bed, and ran to the door barefoot.

And Sherlock was standing by the table contentedly watching the sugar cube burn in the test tube.

"...Sir, the way a Ph.D. in Chemistry wakes people up is quite unusual, huh?"

"Wake you up? No, I'm just doing an experiment, and I don't intend to disturb your sleep... oh."

He stared at her feet and frowned:

"Go back and put your shoes on."

"You obviously timed my time to make breakfast and orchestrated this drama in order to get me to bring it to you before your exclusive breakfast time of 07:30."

Ludwig looked at the wall clock and came to a conclusion:

"You beast."

The bird calmly picked up today's newspaper and sat on the sofa:

"Where's the evidence?"

Ludwig: "..."

When Holmes intends to use you quietly, how can he leave evidence for you?Detective geniuses are crime experts.

Then Mr. Holmes, the criminal expert, raised his head and smiled politely at her:

"But since you're awake, you might as well make breakfast."

Ludwig: "..."