Chapter 28: I Didn't Come to Be a Personal Assistant (1)

  After finishing speaking, he picked up the milk, crossed his legs and elegantly took a sip.

  Two minutes later.

  "Good news, Sherlock!"

  Inspector Lestrade stood at the door, panting as if he had just run a marathon.

  He walked over and sat down opposite Sherlock, right next to Ludwig's seat.

  "Vichy, would you mind getting me a glass of warm water? My throat is as dry as if I'd been lying in the desert for an hour."

  "Of course I don't mind, it's just that there is no warm water left, can I have warm milk instead?"

  "Thank you."

  Ludwig smiled and got up to heat the milk at the bar.

  "The last time you met, you were still strangers. I don't think this time you're familiar enough to be calling each other nicknames."

  Sherlock held a cup of milk and drank it with disgust, leaving some white foam on the corner of his mouth.

  "Rathbone's eyes clouded. 'Sherlock, we met her at the same time, you can call her Vishni, why can't I?'"

  "Obviously, she is my roommate, not yours, and my relationship with her is more intimate in accordance with the theory of natural selection."

  "When did you start watching 'The Theory of Evolution'?"

  Sherlock said expressionlessly:

  "I didn't mean to strike you, but Mac and I have been exposed to this sort of elementary natural knowledge since we were one year old, of course—"

  He glanced at Rastread.

  "It's also understandable that someone who can't even grasp basic chemistry so far can't understand."

  "......Sherlock, your so-called basic chemistry has reached a doctoral level, and my major is forensic science."

  Rasheed leaned back in his chair:

  "I don't think living with someone makes your relationship better, humans interact with each other, build connections - but you never do."

  Sherlock suddenly looked up and smiled at Lestrade:

  "Rastread, have you eaten?"

  Before Rastread's shock had passed, he heard him say sarcastically:

  "If this is what you mean by human interaction - then thank you for the invitation, because in my opinion this is information that can be obtained without language."

  Ludwig asked at the bar: "Inspector Lestrade, this isn't sweet milk, did you add sugar?"

  "Rested: "No thanks, Vischy.""

  Sherlock calmly flipped through the newspaper and said calmly:

  "It's clear that he had lactose intolerance when he was young, and whenever he consumed lactose molecules, he would produce gas. He was teased at a friend gathering and rejected by the girl he liked in front of everyone - this is why his condition, which has since become negligible, still makes him refuse polysaccharides to this day."

  Rasheed wiped his face.

  Sherlock continued, "But it's a good thing she refused you, as the girl you saw last week was already heavily addicted - far more trouble than two Marys put together, after all, Mary was just unfaithful."

  Ludwig intensified his actions with his hands, and the sugar jar and spoon clinked.

  She now wants to plug her ears, saying the noise is too loud and she can't hear anything.

  Lestrade scratched his ear with his finger and said in a low voice:

  "Sherlock, I don't know how you knew this, but I swear from now on to call Miss Ruediger 'Vichi' - and absolutely, absolutely, absolutely will not change."

  Sherlock had his elbows on his knees and his body bent forward so that his voice could reach Lestrade's ears accurately.

  "Stop your doing, this is my experiment and Ludwig is my experimental subject."

  Rasheed's expression was serious

  "What are you after now? I warn you, Sherlock, Vish is a citizen in my jurisdiction and it's my duty to protect her from high-functioning sociopaths like you."

  Sherlock said impatiently, "Personality study, I suspect Weixi suffers from atypical depression."

  “sad？”

  Rastread lowered her voice and looked in Ludwig's direction, who was tiptoeing to the cupboard to look for sugar cubes.

  "You said Vichy has separation anxiety disorder? No, she looks normal, and generally those with separation anxiety disorder are children under six years old."

  "So it's atypical - the way she manifests is just the opposite of typical separation anxiety disorder, you can't see that it's not surprising because your eyes have never done what they're supposed to do..."

  Sherlock also looked at Ludwig, but just a faint glance.

  "...but it is precisely because of this that it has value in drawing my attention."

  "Sherlock, let's not discuss whether Vichy has dissociative anxiety disorder for now, as I think it's unlikely... You've never seen me look for you to discuss a case..."

  Reistrid is as calm and serious as ever, but with a hint of watching the show.

  "...in such an apathetic state about the case, you're actually more concerned with other things, like your experiment subject - has Eros taken a liking to you yet?"

  Sherlock repeated impatiently, "It's an experiment."

  "You only ever conduct experiments when there are no cases, but as soon as you have a case, the first thing you do is ask about it - yet today you're worried that Vishal and I are too close."

  "Don't make me repeat myself for the third time. I'm not bothered that you're overly close to her - what bothers me is that you're interfering with my experiment."

  Lestrade: "I'll take that as a blush, Sherlock. Your interest in this case has gone beyond the experiment... or rather, you're not interested in the experiment itself, but in the subject of the experiment?"

  At this moment Ludwig came over with a glass of milk and happened to hear Restred's words, asking casually, "What experiment?"

  Sherlock downed the rest of the milk in his cup in one gulp.

  Just as Ludwig was taken aback, he snatched the milk from Ludwig's hand that was about to be given to Lestadt and took a big gulp.

  Ludwig: “……”

  Have you changed sex, Mr. Holmes?

  "It's a good idea to drink milk in the morning, Vishee, thank you."

  He raised his empty cup:

  "As for Inspector Lestrade... he's the detective at Scotland Yard, who has to save England and worry about the lives and loves of London citizens, busy beyond measure, certainly wouldn't mind skipping a cup of milk such a small matter."

  Lestrade: “……” Sherlock, you're too naive.

  Ludwig pulled out a paper towel from the cardboard box and handed it to him: "Mr. Holmes, you're too childish... wipe your mouth."

  She said apologetically to Lestrade, "Let me get you another cup, Inspector."

  "There's no need for that, Vishy." Sherlock said calmly.

  "Your voice is obviously hoarse and wheezy, it's clear to see that it's due to dryness-induced cracks, accompanied by chronic bronchitis complications... I advise you to go to the hospital for a check-up, Rested. For chronic bronchitis, milk won't work."

  "......I actually have chronic bronchitis?!"

  "Three years ago when I first saw you, you had just started showing initial symptoms. I remember that during autumn and winter seasons, you would always cough twice."

  Sherlock elegantly held his milk cup: "If you're only realizing it now, it's already become a chronic illness and is difficult to cure."

  "Why didn't you tell me?"

  "Why should I tell you?"

  Rested: “……”

  Sherlock took a sip of milk, just as he would with his coffee, and smiled slightly: "Lestrade, now tell me your good news."

  Ludwig looked at Detective Lestrade's distressed expression and deeply realized - she was wrong! She shouldn't have just thought of hugging Detective Lestrade's thigh! The one in front of her was the real mastermind!

  Inspector Lestrade and Mr. Holmes together, combat power was blown into smithereens!

  Ludwig refilled the milk for the true abdomen black Mr. Holmes, and also brought a cup to Inspector Lestrade - by the way.

  The sinister Mr. Holmes put away his smile, crossed his arms and quietly gazed at Lestrade, waiting for him to speak.

  Ludwig: Damn it, I'm blinded. I know what's going on between you two, but please, Mr. Holmes, don't be so sentimental...

  Her face is too beautiful to handle!

  Rasheed felt a bit uneasy under his gaze:

  A young female soprano singer was murdered... found yesterday afternoon...

  "Soprano? Obviously, that soprano who relies on her face rather than her voice to gain fame absolutely cannot be called a singer. A true singer would not get drunk and stay up all night..."

  Sherlock stood up and picked out a half-long chestnut-colored curl from Inspector Lestrade's hair.