Hudson used all his strength to finally say this.

Even, as she said this, she was still thinking about the bits and pieces of Sherlock's life here, the dinner we ate together, the cat food we fed together, the house we cleaned up for him, and the sense of security when I woke up and saw him standing by the bed.

But now, that little Sanhua is gone.

Sherlock is also leaving.

It seems that his life will leave him forever after this heavy snowfall.

So she could only be extremely tough, and pulled open her door vigorously, and strode into the room, not wanting to explain more, let alone say a word to Sherlock.

That's all she can do.

As the door slammed shut, Mrs. Hudson suddenly fell into a state of despair, leaning feebly against the door, allowing her body to slide down.

"I am a saint."

She muttered, it was enough to make anyone ecstatic, but it came out of her mouth with a hint of trembling.

Joan of Arc. Letitia. Hudson! It has to be a saint!

Because if she were a saint, then her father, who had lost consciousness, would wake up again, and the people of the Holy See would come forward to Lord Nightingale and ask her to cure her father.

If he is a saint, then there will be clergy who will go to the battlefield in front of the gates of hell to bring his brother back, and he will not have to live a life of daily fear, and he may die suddenly in battle.

The white nun told herself this.

In fact, these things are really easy for the Holy See, and all she has to do is to start from this moment on, no longer intersect with any of the opposite sex, just quietly wait for the arrival of her birthday, and then join hands with His Highness the Holy Son to move towards a new life.

What else could she do?

All of the above, Sherlock could not do all his prayers, and Lord Nightingale could not hear them at all, because thousands of patients were praying, and Lord Nightingale had only one, and she was not a god and could not really heal everyone; Nor could Sherlock rush to the shores of Redek Strait, point at an officer's nose, and ask him to send his brother home.

Mrs. Hudson is a kind and simple person, but she has learned to see the reality clearly, in this world, having power must have special treatment different from ordinary people, and romance is just a luxury.

"I am a saint! And he's just a tenant who's been with him for a while! I'm on top, he's just a downtown detective! I won't have anything to do with him again! ”

She kept telling herself this, as if she wanted to make herself more like a person who was carried away by power.

"Even if he saves me, then after I become a saint, there will be ten thousand ways to repay him!"

She thought

It seems that everything is as foreseen by the all-knowing and all-powerful Light, and the saint will become a saint after all

At this moment, just a few centimeters later, outside the door, the street lamp on the corner of the street clicked a few times, and Sherlock stood in the snow, thinking in his head:

"Just kicked out?

But the couch is mine, too."

A few hours later.

"So, you're so homeless?"

In a high-end apartment, Watson poured Sherlock a cup of hot coffee and looked at him with interest, although he had been hiding his true emotions with that squinting and smiling expression, Sherlock knew that this guy must be gloating!

"Yes, it's quite sudden, but I didn't reveal any attributes that shouldn't be exposed, in her eyes, I'm still the law-abiding and helpful detective Mr. and she was thinking about my love for rescuing her a few days ago, so she swept me out of the house today, which is not right."

"You don't want to look up why? It should be a breeze for you. ”

"Maybe I will check it, but maybe not, she must have her own reasons, if she casually reveals other people's scars, it may not solve the problem, and it will cause her more trouble. I won't be able to live back in that way. ”

"You're such a caring guest." The schadenfreude in Watson's words became stronger: "So, what are you going to do?" Going to a hotel? ”

As soon as he said this, Sherlock felt a pain in his head:

"The hotel must be out of play, the men and women of the past few days are like aphrodisiacs, there are queues outside the hotel, I went to several, the most conscientious one agreed to let me stay for three hours, because I had to make room for the next people, I even met two couples who couldn't wait, discussing in the corner and wanting to share a room."

"Share a room?"

"Yes, it is estimated that a bed is divided into left and right sides, you use your half, I use mine, anyway, if I have a place to go, I won't come to you."

Listening to Sherlock's words, Watson seemed to sincerely understand his situation:

"Then my house doesn't have a spare place for you to live, if you insist, you can only go to that renovated room to sleep, but there are two toys in it, their vitality is really strong, why don't you live with them?"

"Then I'd rather sleep on the street." Sherlock said weakly.

Suddenly, it occurred to me that I had another place to go.

Although it's a bit unethical, but in that place, there is only one other person besides himself, and if you talk about the other party, it doesn't seem impossible.

Even if the other party doesn't agree, it's good to put the luggage there.

So Sherlock immediately said goodbye to Watson and went out into the street and hailed a carriage.

Then, facing the wind and snow, we drove towards the British Museum.

Because of the bad weather, when Sherlock arrived at the British Library, it was almost early in the morning, the darkest time of the day.

He carried a heavy suitcase, like a foreigner who had been beaten by life.

The library had long since closed, but Sherlock had countless ways to open the door to the building.

So he walked all the way to the remote corridor that he passed through every day, and then walked to the door with ease.

At this moment, he suddenly hesitated, thinking to himself that the guy wouldn't be in there now.

So he knocked on the door.

"It's a strange feeling." Sherlock muttered, but seeing that there was no response, he knocked it several more times. It wasn't until he thought there should be no one inside, that he finally carefully tore a small void crack in the doorway, and then quickly let a tentacle pull the door bolt open.

subsequently

He pushed the door open

(End of chapter)