[Comprehensive British and American] Those years when I opened a dessert shop on Baker Street

Sherlock is weird.

Wensty thought he would skip lunch in order to solve the case, but when the Adams family had lunch music, he sat across from Wensty, finished the baked waffles and vegetable salad she made, and drank A glass of milk that he would not normally drink at all.

After lunch, Sherlock stood up.

Wensti thought that he was going to rush down to solve the case, so she quickly persuaded him: "Sir, why don't you take a nap first."

I didn't sleep all night, and I ran back and forth, even if my body was made of iron, I couldn't stand it.

Instead, before, Winsty would hear Sherlock say a lot of nouns she couldn't understand in a low voice, in the final analysis, to tell her that he didn't need meaningless sleep.

But today Sherlock nodded: "That's exactly what I mean."

With his hands in his pockets, he walked upstairs and returned to the room, leaving Winsty standing there with a surprised expression on his face.

Morticia walked to Wensti's side: "Why do you look like this, what happened?"

Winsty shook her head: "No, it's just that this is Sherlock's first nap."

After Sherlock and First came back from the cellar, she felt that Sherlock had questions to ask her, but he didn't say a word.

Morticia's expression was rather subtle. She pulled Winstil aside, and Toy followed, but was driven away by Morticia. She wanted to have a private conversation with her daughter.

Motisia didn't know how many times, she sighed in her heart, "My family has a young girl", she picked up a strand of Wensty's hair, and stroked it carefully.

"What's the matter, Mom?"

There was a smile on Morticia's lips: "I like the kid Sherlock very much, and he is also very suitable to be a member of the Adams family."

"Mom, I think you have misunderstood. Sherlock and I are not in the relationship you think."

"I don't care about this," Morticia put down Winsty's hair and rested her chin on her hand, "I care about what you think in your heart? Don't try to lie, I am your mother, our hearts can communicate, I can see your true thoughts in your eyes."

The tenderness of a mother's love flashed in Morticia's eyes.

"I was thinking of..."

"What worries you about me? I am your mother. No matter what you say—even if you say you want to soak Sherlock in formalin or make specimens, I will stand by you." On this side, I will find the best materials for you." Morticia encouraged Winsty in her unique way.

Winsty sighed softly, and finally said what was in his heart: "I want to be by his side."

Morticia thought that Winsty had only spoken the first half of the sentence, and had been waiting for the second half of her sentence.

Wensty was on point.

"And what else?" Morticia asked.

"No more." Winsty lowered his head, and felt a lot better after speaking out what was stuck in his heart.

"Don't you want to have his love?" Morticia always spoke as if he was reading lines from a drama.

Winsty liked the word "love" in her mother's mouth very much. She thought it was romantic and noble, but when she heard this word, she remembered what Sherlock once said:

Love is a matter of emotion. This word is made up by people to explain the hormones that have nowhere to rest. Any emotional matter will violate reason and reason, but reason and reason are the fundamental difference between humans and animals.

It was amazing that Winsty could recall Sherlock's words verbatim, and the expression on his face when he said these words was still vivid in his memory.

It turned out that she and Sherlock had talked about love a long time ago.A person as smart and astute as he was, he had already clearly told her that love was contrary to the rationality he most valued and was most proud of before she felt emotional.He has already rejected her.

"I want to," Wensty's smile was slightly bitter, "but I don't force it."

Morticia was silent for a while.Wensti stretched out her hand to smooth her slightly frowning eyebrows: "The eyebrows are wrinkled a lot, but there will be wrinkles."

Her mother has been cared for by her father for so many years, and she doesn't have a single wrinkle. She doesn't want to be the culprit for her mother's wrinkles.

"You know there is a witch's love potion, right? Drinking the witch's love potion can make others fall in love with you, and your family can find the materials for you."

Although the ingredients for the witch's love potion were a bit difficult to obtain, as long as the whole family worked together, there would be nothing impossible, let alone having so many relatives.

"No, Mom. Love potions will expire, and I don't want to live a lie. Besides, I'm very satisfied now."

Wensty didn't say that just to appease Morticia, she really felt very satisfied, she was much happier than before, although Sherlock wouldn't love her... Well, thinking of this, Wensty's His heart still hurts a little... But he is willing to take her with him when investigating the case, and share with her every moment of new discovery, which is already very good, he can't want everything, she should be content.

Motisia was speechless for a moment, she could feel her daughter sinking in pain and sweetness, what a complicated and beautiful feeling it was.

The flowers, plants, vegetation and trees in Adams Manor have not realized that the wedding has become a phantom of yesterday, and they are still celebrating recklessly. The flowers and plants in the garden are in full bloom in the summer afternoon, graceful and graceful.

Without knowing it, Sherlock had a secret conversation with himself as the protagonist. He was lying on the bed, saying that he was going to take a nap, but a pair of pale blue eyes stared at the hollow ceiling without blinking.

He encountered a murder case, which was originally the most exciting thing for him, but he was not happy at all.

Throat cutting, laparotomy, organs being pulled out of the body... Cruel methods, but the depth of the knife tip piercing the skin is just right, as precise as a calculating instrument, not inferior to excellent surgery doctor.

There was no murder weapon at the scene, and the murderer was nowhere to be found. Apart from the usual size 8 shoe prints, there were no other flaws.

Detective Goldfish in Broome told him that a similar modus operandi had occurred five years ago. An old woman died in her own home in the same way, and the murderer has not been brought to justice so far.

According to their work efficiency, it is a miracle that the murderer can be brought to justice within 100 years. There are so many goldfish in the world, but few of them can swim.

The red-haired police officer told Sherlock: "We suspect that the town's mountain rangers did the crime."

Sherlock denied his doubts straight away. The moment he saw the corpse, an answer had already appeared in his mind, but it had yet to be verified.

He sent Mycroft a message asking him to look up the communication records of the two phone numbers.

One problem is solved, followed by another.What exactly is that unopenable book that First speaks of?

What does that six-pointed star, one eye, and a lightning bolt represent?

Wensti knew the information, he could ask her directly, but would she tell him the truth?

In Sherlock's mind, the image of Winsty lying appeared, her big black eyes were like a whirlpool, which could easily draw people into it.

Sherlock heard some faint movements outside the door, closed his eyes, and pretended to take a nap.

Someone opened his door softly, bringing with it a smell of earth, flour, and raspberries from today's noon, and it was Winsty who opened the door.

She took a few steps, judging from the interval between her steps, she stood on his bedside for a while, then put down something, with a "cha", the air was full of ginger, gooseberry, lavender, vine Mixed flavors.

Then Wensty walked to the window, and Sherlock decided that she must have been walking on tiptoe, because the sound of the steps was so small that he could still feel it when he was awake, but he wouldn't realize it at all if he was asleep. When the curtains were drawn, the brightness of the whole room dropped.

He heard her say softly: "Good afternoon."

After Wensty went out, Sherlock opened his eyes. He saw a sealed white porcelain bottle beside the bed. A few thin incense sticks were inserted in the bottle. The smells of ginger, gooseberry, lavender, and vine wood came from These are all good things to soothe the body and mind, soothe the nerves and help sleep.

Sherlock turned over, the dazzling summer sun was softened by the curtains, the sun was warm, he said "good afternoon" in his heart, and closed his eyes.

Sherlock Holmes said that humans do not need so much sleep. Too much sleep is a waste of time and creativity, but sleep is also a supplement to keep the brain awake. He has not slept all night, so of course he needs supplements.

After falling asleep, Sherlock rarely had a dream, but he was soberly aware that he was in a dream.

He was originally in his memory palace, a big, spacious and bright house, and since the moment it was built, he has been working hard to make it bigger.

Sherlock, who realized that he was in a dream, began to want to escape from the dream. His memory palace was black and white. Just like the documentary 50 years ago, there were only two monotonous colors. Suddenly, a burst of blue butterflies flew over. Circle him and fly around him.

He remembered this group of butterflies, each of them was lively and fluttering, breaking the two colors of black and white.

They circled him for a while, then scurried away, followed by Sherlock.

The butterfly flew out of the memory palace, and he also left the memory palace, passing through bushes, thorns and jungles all the way, and came to the manor with an iron gate, which was closed tightly, blocking his way.

Butterflies flew in, the iron gate was covered with rust, and there was a thick layer of fog inside, and the azure blue danced in the white fog.

Sherlock heard footsteps, and he knew that a little girl in an emerald green dress would run up next, she was as light as a bird, and she would pass him a big red apple through the iron gate.

But none of this happened.

Sherlock was awakened by a burst of laughter, the incense stick beside the bed was only burned to the last bar, and he slept for an extraordinarily long afternoon nap.

When Sherlock went downstairs, he saw busy people on the first floor. Grandma instructed Luke to move a huge box around. Pugsley and Toy were practicing fencing. Singing scales, the other relatives were happily busy, but Morticia and Gomez and Winsty were not in sight.

Sherlock walked up to Foster's side, patted him on the shoulder, and stood on the other side, avoiding his wrestling.

"Ha, you're so quick!"

Sherlock: "Where's Wensty?"

First pointed upstairs: "She is practicing piano music, and she is going to play her favorite piece for Pugsri and Gomez at their wedding."

"Pugsri and Gomez's wedding?"

First nodded cheerfully: "Yes, I heard that my wedding was supposed to be held, but there was an accident, but the wedding should not be wasted, so Morticia and Gomez divorced for a short time just now, wait until the day after tomorrow They will remarry again."

The author has something to say: Book of the Dead: In fact, you don’t have to be so afraid of me. You only think of me as a big devil, but no one thinks of me as an assist?