"The Widow" Bertha

The Diogenes Club welcomes a guest who has never been there before.

The club located across Pall Mall Street is usually quiet, and there are very few strangers visiting at this time.Therefore, when the sound of the door opening sounded, several club members looked sideways.

The visitor seemed to know that he had disturbed others, he pressed the brim of his hat slightly apologetically, and then walked straight to the reception room with his long legs.

When he passed by a few gentlemen who were reading newspapers, the rest of them just glanced at his trousers and leather shoes out of the corner of their eye, and then looked away.

It wasn't until the stranger strode forward, leaving behind a faint scent, that someone paused and put down the magazine in his hand.

But the visiting stranger had already walked into the reception room, leaving only a thin and tall figure behind.

——The Diogenes Club, which first appeared in "The Greek Interpreter" in "The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes", was founded by Mycroft Holmes, just across the street from his residence in Pall Mall .

This is not the point, the point is that this is a men's club, women are not invited.

but……

Bertha came in wearing men's clothes, and it seemed that none of the club members noticed the problem, let's say she didn't make an exception.

Bertha had just taken her seat when Mycroft came into the drawing-room.

She leaned unceremoniously on the sofa, even crossed her legs, put her elbows on the armrests, and clasped her hands together.Meeting Mycroft's gaze, he said enthusiastically, "What a great place, Mike."

Mycroft tilted his head and readily accepted Bertha's compliment: "Thank you."

As he spoke, he turned around and locked the door of the reception room—what a joke, no matter how tall Bertha was sitting on the sofa, she was undoubtedly a woman when she took off her hat.The beauty in men's clothing is chic and unrestrained, but she came to find Mycroft and was discovered, but it was the founder himself who broke the rules of the club.

"Are you curious?" Mycroft said after the door closed.

"Of course," Bertha admitted frankly, looking around, "I was wondering why you started this club."

Mycroft said, "Too loud."

Bertha smiled.

She patted her knees, and the well-tailored suit outlined Bertha's slender and straight legs: "You men, there are so many problems. With so much freedom, you can walk around in pants, argue with people in Congress, and end up in the end. It’s because I hate being able to make too much noise anytime, anywhere.”

The gentleman was noncommittal, but just followed with a shallow smile: "What made you choose to visit directly?"

Bertha suddenly put away all her emotions when she heard the words.

"I was thinking about how to deal with the Italians," she said.

"It seems that you have figured out a way."

"Yes and no," Bertha stood up, and she paced the room leisurely, "I was thinking that once gang disputes start, they will never end, but Sicilians are notorious for revenge. I can use any method, I It refers to the legal way to deal with Marco Esposito, but with his death, I will usher in the counterattack of the whole family."

This is where the Italian Mafia troubles lie.

When one person dies, there will be more people to avenge.They'd see it as a family-versus-family struggle, with Bertha killing Mark and the Sicilians burying all Thames orphans with him.

That's why the neurotic Italian was so unscrupulous.

He is backed by the mafia family in Italy. Once Marco dies, the Sicilians will try their best to come to London and trouble Bertha.

"So," she said, "I had to make sure the real Italians didn't come before I got to Marco Esposito."

Mycroft understood.

Without further words, the other party understood Bertha's meaning: "You have a solution."

"Yes."

Bertha, who was pacing back and forth, finally stopped in front of Mycroft.

The two stood on the thick and intricately patterned carpet in the center of the reception room. Bertha's footsteps were silent, and the distance between her and him was no more than half a meter.

Looking at each other, Bertha took the lead in lowering her eyelids.

"It's my turn to play chess, Mike," she said with her hands behind her back, "The Italians are investigating you, and Marco thinks you are my political backer."

One sentence is enough.

On the surface, Mycroft Holmes was a clerk for the government's accounts--he did have a part of his job function related to this.Sounds like a government accountant, and accountants always know more than others, so they are very popular among officials and gentlemen in high society.

Other than that, Mycroft doesn't seem to be a threat to the Mafia.

He has neither a noble name nor a prominent political background, which is enough to make Marco feel relieved: for the Sicilians, an account manager is not enough to threaten them.

"You want Marco to target me," said Mycroft.

"uh-huh."

Bertha admitted frankly: "At that time, it will be more than just a gang fire."

She just wanted to make things big.

The conflict between Mrs. Thames and the Italians is a gang dispute at a small scale, but it can rise to a conflict between the Italian mafia and the British government at a large scale.

"The local Italians in London attacked government officials," Mycroft said. "Sounds like big news. Maybe the Esposito family in Sicily will cut off their wrists to avoid international conflicts."

"At that time, Marco will be useless."

Bertha was in high spirits: "How? I learned this trick from you, Mike. You betrayed the queen, and I will betray the king."

Mycroft pondered for a while, and then admitted: "It's not impossible. In fact, if I operate correctly, maybe I can still make money."

As for what to earn, it was not for Bertha to ask.She can probably guess—Marco is so rampant, he naturally has his government backing.After making such a fuss, maybe Mycroft could still get a surprise.

"Then it's settled."

Bertha clapped her hands happily: "I will notify you in advance when the time comes."

Mycroft nodded.

Then the man said: "You are here for this."

Bertha: "Why not?"

The voice fell, and there was a brief silence in the reception room.

Bertha accepted Mycroft's scrutiny as a matter of course, and finally the man looked back as if confirmed: "Congratulations."

"what?"

"Overnight, you have adjusted back to the previous state."

"Thank you."

After speaking, Bertha suggested as if she suddenly remembered something: "You and I are going to become accomplices again, Mike, don't you want to celebrate in advance?"

The gentleman couldn't help laughing when he heard this.

It was that smile again—perfect, gentle, with all the politeness and graciousness, almost impeccable.Compared with Bertha's undisguised relaxed and happy smile, Mycroft Holmes's smile is natural but indifferent, like armor strong enough to wrap all real emotions in it.

"A fine whiskey is not suitable for opening during the day," said Mycroft politely, "but tea."

"it is good."

"Just a moment, Bertha."

After finishing speaking, he wanted to turn around and leave.

Mycroft didn't hold back, he looked away, and stepped with his right foot—

However, just when the man was about to leave, Bertha suddenly reached out her hand.

She directly grabbed the other party's tie and pulled him back.

The sudden movement caused the two of them to take a few steps back and forth according to the inertia, until Bertha, who stretched out her hand, leaned against the edge of the desk in the reception room.

The distance disappeared suddenly, breathing intertwined, ears rubbed together, Bertha raised her eyes, and could even see the subtle lines in Mycroft's eyes and her own reflection.

She tugged on the man's tie: "So disappointed?"

Mycroft sighed. "Bertha."

All the words are contained in this round of calling.

Then Bertha took him and kissed him.

Such a kiss is out of control.

He supported her hips, but with a little force, he lifted Bertha onto the desk.

Mycroft was restrained at first, perhaps considering that they were still in public, and the man was going to try it out, but Bertha didn't think so.Every time he wanted to pull away, she always pulled him back until their breathing was completely disrupted.

Between kisses, Bertha's lips pressed against his skin and said vaguely: "Pockets."

Mycroft's throat echoed, and he followed her instructions and groped towards her pocket——

When the man's fingertips touched the rubber product inside, he froze suddenly.

Mycroft rose quickly.

Bertha raised her eyebrows: "What?"

Mycroft glared at Bertha, and took out the rubber product: "You—"

"Ok?"

"So presumptuous!"

"What's the problem?" asked Bertha deliberately.

What responded to her was a man's almost forceful kiss.

In this world, only sex and violence can make people's blood spurt, and no matter how neat the clothes and impeccable posture, they can't hide the thriving nature.

The only rule of the Diogenes Club was to keep quiet except outside the drawing room.

But Bertha was not a quiet person.

She seemed to want to be provocative, but she chose to sing when the surroundings were silent, so the man sighed helplessly amidst the unbearable desire.

He held her firmly, and his broad palm fell on her red lips.

All the melodies are suppressed between the throats.He was not in a hurry, even though she tried to hook him to the edge of madness by various means, the man never moved away from his palm, following his slow pace.

This man...

Looks like a gentleman, looks easy-going, seems to always be humble and polite that can't find any mistakes, until such a confrontation did not reveal his true colors.

The thin calluses on the fingertips rubbed against the thin sweat on the skin, and the rising heat flowed through the touching fingertips and lips.

The more self-controlled he is, the crazier he appears.

Finally Bertha wrapped her arms around Mycroft's neck, and couldn't help laughing as the heat wave reached its frenzied peak.

She enjoys the process of peeling Sherlock Holmes out of the cocoon.

"It's the second time," said Bertha breathlessly.

Mycroft supported Bertha's back, his lips remained on Bertha's neck: "What?"

Bertha turned her head slightly, staring at his messy hair: "Still not on the bed."

Mycroft: "..."

The man laughed too.

"You planned it yourself," he said in a low voice, "but it's not like there's no way to ensure that it comes true."

"Ok?"

"You hope to attract the attention of the Italians to me, and it will be easy."

There was a smile in Mycroft's voice, but it was not in a negotiable tone: "Move back to Pall Mall with me."