2 months later. London. Baker street. Apartment 221 B.
After our conversation with the Professor, 2 months have passed. It is better to stay away from such a person.
I still remember his look, as if penetrating into the very soul.
This Professor saw right through me. Superiority was read in his gaze and gestures. A young, influential, intelligent man whose intentions can never be read.
What did he want?
I sat down on the sofa, hoping to find some intriguing news in the newspaper, and at the same time wishing that Sherlock would sit quietly in his chair after the investigation was over and not annoy others with his whining and demands to find something to do.
Probably, this will never happen.
How else can I explain that I've been hearing him sigh for an hour?
In this apartment, you can completely get enough of peace and quiet?
I sat down on the sofa, hoping to find some intriguing news in the newspaper, and at the same time wishing that Sherlock would sit quietly in his chair after the investigation was over and not annoy others with his whining and demands to find something to do.
Probably, this will never happen.
How else can I explain that I've been hearing him sigh for an hour?
In this apartment, you can completely get enough of peace and quiet?
"Is there anything you want to tell me?" - I said, turning to look at Sherlock. He just gave me a sidelong glance and answered my question with a question: "And you?"
"What do you mean?" - I put the paper aside and turned my full attention to the detective.
"Yesterday"
"So much information. What happened yesterday, Sherry?"
"Mycroft. You've been spending a lot of time with him lately"
"And what?" - I wasn't surprised when there was no response, but instead he sighed loudly to attract attention, and turned in his chair, looking out the window.
A couple of weeks ago. House of Mrs. Walter.
I was sitting in the living room where Mrs. Walter welcomes guests with their problems.
It is strange that people do not believe in mysticism and come here anyway. What pulls them: curiosity, skepticism, or hopelessness.
There were footsteps and the sound of the front door opening. Words by Mrs. Walter was quiet and incomprehensible. A familiar voice from the hallway announced Mycroft's sudden visit.
The British government has always meant unforeseen situations. His arrival always made me rejoice like a little child who has been bought candy.
"Good evening, Lukiia"
"Crofty, it's good to see you. Rarely when you yourself come to me" - I took the man by the arm and led him into the living room - "Sit down, I'll pour you some tea"
"That's what I came for" - he'll say casually.
"I'll go, I won't interfere with your personal affairs" - said Mrs. Walter and went up to the second floor.
I turned around and realized that Holmes and I were alone in the living room, and Mrs. Walter had already slipped out of the room.
"How are you, Crofty? Work does not give time for simple human rest, takes away the last strength?" - I asked, handing Holmes a cup of tea. We sat down in the living room in the adjacent chairs - "Tired of seeing gray faces and too-perfect offices?"
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"Believe me" Moriarty the patriot/Donten ni Warau
Misteri / ThrillerSooner or later, this happens to everyone: a push, a loss of balance, an instant of free flight and a meeting with the ground. The fall is familiar to everyone who rides a horse, and in our history is no exception. After Lukiia was a child, she fell...