[Zongyingmi] She is a princess and not sick

Francis injured back to the UK thing is a certainty.

As for why she was hurt?

Francis looked at the greeting message on his phone and sneered.

If this matter had nothing to do with Moriarty, she couldn't do it.

The guy also blatantly sent a greeting text.

"I wish you a speedy recovery, my dear Highness - JM"

Arrogant enough?

Crazy enough?

This Napoleon of the criminal world is really not called for nothing.

"Don't bother the professor, just watch out for Waterloo ahead - FMW"

Francis snorted coldly, turned off the phone, and she followed McCaw to the plane, which was a private jet.

Although Francis rejected Moriarty's proposal after the first meeting, cooperating with him is undoubtedly seeking skin from a tiger. Neither the tiger nor the person will end well, even if he tempts her with the truth about his mother.

At that time, Francis was ready for the investigation to be blocked.

I just didn't expect it to come so soon, or in this way.

"Would you like some juice?" Mycroft asked Francis.

She rubbed her wrist unnaturally, and nodded: "It would be even better with a few biscuits. The food in the hospital is too bad."

Mycroft supported her and kept complaining about the bad food in the hospital, so he knew that this matter did not leave any shadow on Francis' heart.

It seems that her psychiatrist is really good at it.

only…

"In the future, if you live in the UK for a long time, you should change to a psychiatrist." Mycroft flipped through the documents in hand, "It's true, I think Dr. Lecter is a good psychiatrist."

Mycroft originally thought Francis would hesitate for a while, but she nodded indifferently.

This surprised McCaw.

There are not many people who can surprise McCaw, and Francis is one of them.

"The new psychiatrist will let the husband worry more." Francis said indifferently while drinking orange juice, "Recently, I feel that I am in very good condition, so it doesn't matter if I don't see a psychiatrist."

"Until you see that your mental state is healthy, Your Highness, you should stop delusional." Mycroft said coldly.

Francis sighed and said nonchalantly, "You're really embarrassing me, sir. At least I still have a little anxiety disorder. But most people have anxiety disorders, and you have sir. But you never see a psychiatrist."

"Would you like some Strawberry Daifuku?"

So sir, do you always eat when you change the subject?

Do you want?

of course…

"want!"

Francis felt that she had exposed all her weaknesses in front of Mycroft, but she was quite happy, hopeless.

Francis was the only one who could take the sweets from Mycroft's mouth.

"How are your teeth? Last time Sherlock greeted your teeth." Francis said while eating strawberry Daifuku, "I think for your health, you should exercise more."

Mycroft held the tip of his tongue against his back molars, feeling that his cavities were getting worse again.

"You look troubled, sir. Can you tell me?"

Mycroft licked his cavities: "Sherlock found a cohabitant."

Francis raised his eyebrows. Seeing McCoff's indifferent and gloomy expression, he asked cautiously, "A man?"

Seeing Mycroft's dark face, Francis swallowed, feeling that her throat was a little dry. She took a sip of orange juice and laughed a few times: "Sir, it's still too late for you to object to the Prime Minister's recently proposed same-sex marriage bill."

"The same-sex marriage bill is the general trend." McCoff ignored Francis' words, and he planned to meet his brother's cohabitant as soon as he got off the plane.

"So what do you think of me going to live with Sherlock, sir? William lives in Kensington Palace after he's married. I don't want to be a light bulb." Frances's beautiful blue eyes looked at Mycroft.

Mycroft was unmoved, it was not a good idea for Francis and Sherlock to live together.

"Sherlock no longer needs a cohabitant, Your Highness."

"Tsk, is that cohabitant better than me? It's rare that Sherlock is so interesting." Francis curled his lips dissatisfied with Mycroft's rejection.

"Which building 221C next to Sherlock is still vacant." Mycroft said, "The premise is that the Queen agrees to you living outside, Your Highness."

"You mean, how many times do I have to remind my grandmother that I'm an adult before she lets me live alone?"

The issue is no longer within the purview of Mycroft.

Francis took a sip of the orange juice and found that Mycroft's full glass hadn't been touched, thinking that he still cared about his image.

She yawned sleepily, adjusted the angle of the chair, tilted her head and fell asleep unconsciously.

McCoff covered Francis with a blanket, and stroked her blond hair. The corner of his cold mouth curled into a small arc.

Francis originally had Meniere's disease and the concussion from this injury. It is better to let her fall asleep when flying, so that it will not be so uncomfortable.

McCoff had two glasses of orange juice with fortification disposed of.

Mycroft's code name in MI5 is Mr. M, as the code name of the highest leader in history.

"Sir. This is the information on that Dr. Lecter." Quartermaster Q said thoughtfully, "Do you want to get rid of him?"

Mycroft looked at the famous Dr. Lecter, frowned, and remembered Francis' strange attitude and emotion towards the Diana incident. This silly goldfish hadn't noticed it yet, but as McCoff, who grew up with her, absolutely Will not be unnoticed.

It's just that he hadn't thought about the source of Francis' change until Francis called him that day and said he was looking for a psychiatrist for Harry.

Mycroft looked at the document with deep eyes.

Quartermaster Q, who had seen the big scene next to him, was sweating. He had never seen a boss with such a gloomy face. At this moment, he wanted to summon Anthea, QAQ

"No need." Mycroft put down the documents, and he glanced at the sleeping Francis, "Recently there are some unsolved cases in the United States, please refer them to the FBI."

Quartermaster Q nodded and quickly withdrew the information, and repeatedly assured that His Highness Francis would never know a word.

Mycroft nodded noncommittally. Francis' attitude towards the psychiatrist was also quite strange. She didn't show any resistance when the psychiatrist was changed, and it could be seen that she didn't trust that Dr. Lecter very much.

Mycroft felt that Frances' blonde hair was very soft, just like when she was a child, and my dear princess never disappointed him.

Her ordinary Princess Diana eyes, blue and blue, have not been stained by the haze over London.

"Why is this world so cruel?"

This was the only time in all Francis's questions that Mycroft didn't answer her directly.

Francis inherited her mother's delicate sensitivity, and intelligence has become a double-edged sword.

Mycroft has been controlling Francis' emotions for several years.

In addition to her anxiety attacks, Frances had a pre-existing mood disorder, and McCoff never saw Frances lose control after Diana's death.

If she hadn't had a criminal record, Mycroft would have fired the psychiatrist who made the diagnosis.

Francis living in Baker Street is tantamount to living under the nose of McCoff, which is definitely the safest place in England.

At least something like this time will never happen again.

The author has something to say: no matter what, Mycroft will never let Sherlock and Francis live together, the next door is already the limit.