[Zongyingmi] She is a princess and not sick

One day, she died knowing too much.

Anthea felt that the cause of her death would definitely be silenced by the boss, and she felt that she knew something she shouldn't know.

Going to 221C Baker Street early in the morning to deliver Boss's clothes, and by the way, he had to bring breakfast for two, but he couldn't tell about such an explosive thing, which was like torture for Anthea, a girl with an Internet addiction who has the attribute of complaining.

Really want to hang on the Internet.

When she finally endured her own pain, she felt deeply worried for her own life.

But what worries her even more is that the second she resigns, she will appear at the bottom of the Thames to feed the fish.

Anthea carried the boss's clothes and breakfast for two, took a deep breath and knocked on the door with a professional expression.

It was his Boss who opened the door, wearing a white bathrobe.

Wait, white bathrobes.

YY is one thing, it's another thing to make it true.

Anthea felt that she could no longer maintain her expression.

It's an afterthought for them.

As a good British assistant, should I hand over a cigarette.

Anthea was very calm on the surface, and she was going crazy in her heart. She calmly handed over her suit and breakfast.

Mycroft took the suit and went upstairs to change. Anthea sat down anxiously, and voices were heard from above from time to time.

"You should be sleeping for a while." That was her Boss.

"Oh, and I'm taking my friends on a tour of London. I don't want to disappoint them." Another voice just woke up, and some of the voices were a little muffled.

"I hope you have an appointment at noon. Eric."

"In the afternoon. But I have to be ready." The voice was undoubtedly Francis, her voice was soft and vague, "I need a cup of black tea. Or coffee."

"I suggest you go to bed after breakfast."

"Wow, don't tell me you're wearing a bathrobe and it's my robe that went out to buy breakfast?"

"Of course not, Anthea brought it here."

"Oh! She's still below. The sound insulation here is not very good." The princess groaned.

Anthea sat down a little uneasy.

After half an hour, both of them came down glamorously.

Mycroft was still wearing a three-piece suit, and Frances was wearing a long white shirt and a pair of decent jeans, but her looks were, well, even without makeup, she was so radiant.

"Anthea, it's a pleasure to meet you." Francis is not the kind of person to entangle after something happens.

Just like she never entangled with the fact that Diana was dead, she spent her life chasing her killer.

She has slept with Mycroft, and there is no point in entanglement and embarrassment.

"Good day, Your Highness." Anthea kept smiling.

"Chinese breakfast, so sweet, Anthea." Francis gave her a hug.

Anthea could feel the moisture in her hair.

"I hope that Mr. has raised your salary." Francis sat at the dining table, she looked at McCoff's husband in a three-piece suit and ready to go to work, she subconsciously looked at her watch, "I want to leave work I don't have much time. You should have breakfast first."

McCoff touched his tie knot, sat opposite Francis, and Anthea thoughtfully went outside to wait for Boss.

"What's wrong with the tie I tied for you? You touched it several times." Francis couldn't help asking when she saw Mycroft touch the tie for the third time.

"Why not use a Windsor knot?"

Francis straightened his tie and said, "Don't touch it again. It's all about Liz. She hates her uncle. A half Windsor knot is fine too."

Mycroft swears he tried hard enough not to notice the different tie knot from his usual one.

Francis sighed, defeated by his OCD: "Well, you win, sir. I'll tie you an authentic Windsor knot in a moment."

"Thank you."

When Mycroft left 221C, he kissed Francis on the forehead: "Do you want me to pick you up later? We can have dinner together."

"Yeah, I'm done calling you." Francis nodded, "See you later."

After Mycroft left, Francis was going to follow McCoff's advice and go back to sleep on the crooked bed.

When she lifted the quilt, a voice suddenly sounded from behind.

"I think you and Mycroft always had a great night."

"Oh, shit!" Francis sat down on the bed in fright, her blue eyes widened: "Sherlock, can you stop being so scary?"

"Mycroft came to the door lock on 221B once. I think I'm even with my brother." The signature curly hair is definitely the big detective next door.

Francis ruffled the quilt in his hand and said without sincerity: "It's completely even. But I'm sorry for making you the last Virgin on Baker Street."

"Mycroft is probably busy explaining to his old friend now that he slept with her granddaughter." Sherlock ignored Francis' slightly sarcastic remarks, and he sat on the only chair in the room, "Mycroft's How's the technology?"

"seriously?" Francis laughed, and she stroked her blond hair: "Why do you want to know this? Have you asked McCoff's previous female companions, or male companions? Have you ever doubted McCoff's orientation?"

"I asked and they told me to go away."

Francis raised his eyebrows: "Why do you want to know this?"

She paused after asking this question, stood up from the bed with a frown, pointed to Sherlock and said, "Watson said, you told him that your brain is like a hard drive in a computer. You specially vacated a hard drive." To deposit your brother? Are you infatuated with him?"

Sherlock said blankly, but Francis noticed that his speech was speeding up: "What are you talking about. Why do I worship fat people? Look, his weight. His hairline, his cavities, Even obsessive-compulsive disorder..."

"Wow, and wisdom. Don't you suspect that he jumped out of your father's brain?" Francis looked up and saw Sherlock's puzzled expression, and she suddenly said, "Oh, you don't know Greek mythology. I put your brother The analogy was Athena. Zeus ate Athena's mother, Medis, and Athena popped out of his head. You adored him, right. Ever since you were a kid."

The only consulting detective you've ever seen in the whole of England run away mumbling something, anyway, is the detective I don't understand you.

Francis had never felt so honored.

She texted McCoff about how cute his baby brother was, and McCoff sent her two words back.

"Sleep - MH"

Francis pursed her lips and smiled. She put the phone on the bedside table and started to catch up on sleep.

Sherlock returned to 221B with a displeased face. Before Watson had time to ask him what was wrong, Sherlock dropped a bomb.

"Mycroft slept with Francis."

Watson: Little Yueyue's frightened face.JPG

"What?" Watson put down the coffee in his hand, "You mean, fell asleep. Is it pure sleep or sex? What do you mean? Mycroft? How is it possible? Oh, he is also monitoring Baker Street, otherwise I won't publish any words."

"Why are you afraid of that fat man?"

"Are you joking?" Watson looked at Sherlock in disbelief. "I'm not afraid of him. But you know, Mycroft is the British government. I don't want to be late for another month."

Sherlock glanced at Watson and twitched the corners of his mouth: "I'm late for a month, so Kayla blames you? Poor John."

"Sarah, not Kayla."

Sherlock pressed the phone button and asked casually, "I changed it."

Watson covered his face with a broken face: "It's the same person, Sherlock, you can't remember a person's name. How difficult can this be?"

"Boring. My brain never stores garbage." Sherlock remembered the clichés in the bedroom again, and arrogantly left Watson behind him and went back to his bedroom.

Watson looked at Sherlock's back unrequitedly: "That's why you never remember Inspector Lestrade's name."

The author has something to say: Every time I write about Anthea, I think the assistant is very cute