Chapter 7 The Arrival of Empress Ludovika

  Inspector, encountering a human killing machine like Sherlock Holmes, there are only two options: either happily get along with him or be ridiculed to death by him...

  So, I wish you good health and a strong jaw, Inspector Lestrade.

  "I think you're all busy, so I won't disturb you."

  Ludwig said politely, a small flame in his heart was burning uncontrollably.

  Rise up! For Inspector Lestrade! And for that man who is about to have an encounter with Sherlock Holmes, John Watson!

  When fate's romance arrives, don't carelessly suppress it!

  Hurray! Men of the Resterd and Peanut families!

  ......sigh......

  "Where are you going?"

  Sherlock straightened up from the armchair and stared at Ludwig's hands as he put on his coat: "Your coat isn't dry yet."

  Ludwig pinched his sleeve: "It's about time."

  "You didn't bring an umbrella."

  Ludwig looked out of the window: "The rain is about to stop."

  What's with this eerie sense of "Sherlock Holmes actually caring about the weather"?

  "Mrs. Hudson has not returned yet."

  "I can come over later and find her."

  "Don't bother, she'll be back soon."

  ……

  Ludwig clenched his fists at the foot of the stairs and turned around with a smile.

  "It's dinner time now, sir, and it's not suitable for me to stay here."

  Sherlock sat motionless, staring at the coffee cup on the tea table, as if he could see some major chemical revolution from that ordinary coffee cup.

  But the next moment, he suddenly turned his head and said with a very pleasant tone, accompanied by a warm smile: "Are you hungry? There's bread in the fridge."

  Ludwig: "What?"

  The neglected detective: "!!!!"

  Ludwig's eyes twitched slightly as he calmly said, "Thank you for your kindness, sir, but it's not necessary."

  "What's the number?"

  "Huh?"

  "Your phone number, Miss Ludwig. I'll notify you as soon as Mrs. Hudson returns."

  I don't have a cell phone.

  If she had a mobile phone, would she dare to write letters with Uncle Mikala?

  Ludwig's sense of foreboding grew stronger: "If nothing else..."

  "None left, Miss Ludmilla." Sherlock unfolded the newspaper he had just closed his hand over and resumed his haughty, icy expression:

  "Goodbye."

  Ludwig: “……”

  She let out a long sigh of relief - this cold tone that couldn't wait to get rid of me, as if I were a disgusting, brainless soft-bodied animal, was the norm.

  Wait! Isn't it abnormal for someone who thinks this tone is normal?

  Is it possible that after meeting Sherlock Holmes, a boss with all S attributes open, I have already begun to transform into an M in less than an hour?

  But he still has to get along with this very s boss for at least a year... Ludwig can already imagine that when he walks into 221B Baker Street with his head held high, after a year, he will be a trembling loser...

  Mom, life is getting more and more desperate.

  After Miss Ludvig left, in the living room on the second floor of 221B Baker Street.

  Rastread looked at his silent friend who was reading a newspaper and finally couldn't help but speak up:

  "Sherlock, you can't get a girl like that."

  Sherlock's eyes didn't leave the newspaper: "What do you want to say?"

  "Elementary, my dear Sherlock."

  Ridder said "obviously" and found himself with a subtle sense of satisfaction, so he repeated it: "Obviously, you're interested in this girl."

  Sherlock gave a short laugh. "Rustic, your conclusion is even more amusing than the last time you thought Cavendish died of cyanide poisoning."

  "Raiden: '-_-# That's because the corpse showed all the symptoms of cyanide poisoning."

  Sherlock languidly reminded him: "It's only the fingers that show symptoms of cyanide poisoning."

  "Of course, nothing compares to the time you chased a cab halfway across London with three-quarters of Scotland Yard's firepower only to find out it was Mrs. Roosevelt taking her dog to the vet."

  Rastread: "......"

  For the thousandth time, Lestreid thought to himself: He's my friend! Friend! So even if he was arrogant and self-centered with high-functioning antisocial tendencies and liked to mock him, he couldn't hit him, let alone hit his face!

  On the contrary, today was the first time he found Sherlock interested in a woman since he had known him for so long. As his friend and as the detective of 221B Baker Street, he should care about every citizen in his jurisdiction. He kindly reminded him and gave suggestions to the bewildered Sherlock, otherwise his intelligent but always unromantic good friend would really get married to the case and end up lonely forever.

  Especially when he's bored, he'll constantly look for trouble - for God's sake, Scotland Yard isn't a case-making machine!

  If there is a woman managing him, it will take up some of his time anyway?

  "It's too obvious, admit it Sherlock, you may not be in love with her but you're interested in her. I've never heard of you needing anyone's mind and I've never seen you keep someone for dinner."

  "That doesn't solve the problem."

  "You actively asked to rent with her, all the roommates I previously introduced to you came crying to me for a refund within three days."

  "That's reasoning, not demanding."

  "Not to mention the look in your eyes when you watched her leave, and after she left, you stared at the stairs for a full five seconds."

  "Don't be foolish, Rastread, when you took the rotting corpse away from me, I looked at you with this same gaze."

  "Did I fall in love with you?"

  Rastread: “……”

  Lolita version of Sherlock Holmes

  Sherlock, with a London accent, three syllables strung together like shattered glass, the tip of the tongue against the teeth, then stuck to the upper jaw, finally dissolving into a sigh from the depths of the throat - Sha, Luo, Ke.

  Is it because those who see you are either already dead or at any moment in danger of death that they think to sigh thus?

  Ludwig rubbed his temples in a headache - what was he going to do for the next year?

  Only over a thousand pounds left in the card, after paying tuition and rent, the remaining bit of dregs, can only rely on part-time jobs to eat meat...

  Ludwig propped his chin with one hand, through the misty glass window, he could see children in raincoats walking down Baker Street, young men in high-end coats and fluttering eyes, old women in long red leather boots.

  There will also be yellow-skinned and black-eyed Asians... Who are they, and where did they come from?

  Is it from China, or is it from North Korea Japan?

  If you are from China, is there anyone from Suzhou who knows that the bus in Suzhou will use soft and fluffy Suzhou dialect to report the station to you, and which family on Pingjiang Road has the most authentic roasted gluten?

  She stirred her coffee listlessly with a spoon, she had been waiting for a long time, the coffee was cold, and she gazed at the light in Mrs. Hudson's window across from 221B, which had not yet come on.

  The porcelain spoon struck the coffee cup with a crown pattern, slowly rubbing against the bottom of the cup, making a tinkling sound.

  ...even the voice is wrong.

  China's bone china, it is an urn.

  It has a bird's beak, a fish's spine and a bear's paw.

  A truly good porcelain, the base is a thin layer that can be seen through light, and the delicate shadow of fingers can be seen coming through. The sound it makes when struck has a metallic feel to it, like the crispness of pearls colliding.

  ……

  Don't want to drink coffee, want to drink grandfather's brewed old tree Huang Pian.

  Don't want to eat steak, want to eat fried chicken roll at school gate.

  Want to eat Guangzhou stew for an hour, without salt but fresh enough to make the tongue fall off - Chenpi pigeon soup.

  I want to eat authentic Taiwanese stir-fried squid with sauce.

  Want to eat durian pastry at Xiamen University's South Gate snack street.

  Want to eat Gulangyu red bean flavor handmade pancake.

  Want to eat large intestine wrapped small intestine...

  Can't we still be like before, setting up three or five small dishes in our own little garden, and drinking this year's newly opened black wheat wine with two or three good friends?

  On top, yellow pumpkin flowers, purple bean pod flowers, and small clusters of grapes like pearls, tied with thin silk threads, hanging down from the bamboo-made flower rack.

  The old man next door kneaded the dough with vegetable juice, rolled it into noodles, green and tidy, hanging a whole row.

  In the afternoon when I'm hungry, without needing to greet anyone, I can just take two roots and make a bowl.

  ……

  How I miss it...

  How much I miss all of this, how much I miss you guys.

  My heart seems to be shrinking into a ball because of this thought.

  The exquisitely decorated coffee shop was currently playing Boss Jia's song, under the warm yellow light, Boss Jia's voice was slow and seemed to be drifting away, with a familiar feeling that seemed to span centuries.

  Leaving hometown, oh, leaving hometown, I am already hundreds of miles away from my hometown.

  She was separated from her hometown by space and time. She was isolated from her hometown by a mystery that science could not explain, and she might never be able to return home.

  But even so, she still wants to try, she misses that place, dreams of going home, back to the familiar alley, where an old dog always crouches at the entrance.

  In that small town, if she were waiting for someone, it wouldn't be in a cold and icy café like this.

  She would sit in a small courtyard at her friend's house that was never closed, the birds and dogs raised at the entrance of the courtyard were all familiar with her, and when they saw her, they would wag their tails and rush up to her.

  Even if she's just sitting in a small shop, the owner of that teahouse or noodle shop will be familiar with her like their own children, and affectionately call out to her nickname, jokingly saying "A Xi, if you don't bring back a boyfriend for Uncle to see soon, you might as well marry my son!"

  Memories flooded in with an overwhelming familiarity, invading the brain and surging into the empty spaces of the chest cavity like a tidal wave.

  She covered her face with her hands.