The next morning, it started to rain.
Anne stood in front of the porch and could clearly hear the sound of the raindrops hitting the doorpost and the steps in front of the porch. The raindrops were very big, sparse but fast. It was not like spring rain, but like summer showers that came suddenly and disappeared for a short time.
Anne suddenly remembered the days when she was a child at her grandmother's house in the countryside in her previous life.
In the countryside, rainy days were like a festival for the children. Just standing in the porch and reaching out to catch the raindrops that gathered from the eaves could be played for a long time.
Anne reached out her hand, and the raindrops splashed everywhere when they fell into her palm. The small splashes splashed on her face, and it was the refreshing coolness of spring.
In her previous life, she spent her childhood in the countryside. But the countryside at that time was completely different from here. Now that she thought about it, it really felt like a lifetime ago.
Then Anne remembered that she had already died once. Those things, for her, were really a lifetime ago.
Footsteps sounded behind her, but Anne did not turn around.
"I wonder if it rains in Rosings?" She said softly.
Darcy stood beside her. She always seemed to be able to recognize his footsteps.
"I hope not. Aunt doesn't like rainy days." Darcy replied emotionlessly.
Anne smiled. Yes, Lady Catherine hated rainy days, because it made it impossible for her to go out for a walk. Although she rarely went out for a walk on sunny days, usually Anne had to coax her to be willing to move around in the garden for a while.
Anne always said that staying in the room was a waste and a crime to the beautiful garden in Rosings.
"But you like rainy days very much," Darcy added, after a pause.
"In fact," Anne said with a smile, "I like all the weather in the four seasons, cloudy, sunny, rainy, and snowy."
Because she felt it when she was awake. She liked every day when she was alive.
"But I prefer rainy days." Darcy insisted.
"Okay." Anne compromised, "Maybe I prefer rainy days."
So, she should like London. That rainy city. Although she probably would not stay there for long.
.
When Anne returned to the living room, she saw Shylock sitting alone on the sofa, reading a book.
When she approached, he didn't even raise his head, but his voice sounded first.
"I hope you have written your letter, and we will go back to London to-morrow."
His deep and resounding voice, mixed with the raindrops hitting the glass window, was very pleasant to the ear.
Anne glanced at the hazy curtain of rain outside the window and answered softly, "Okay."
"This is the second time I've seen that expression on your face."
Anne was stunned. She saw that Shylock had already raised his head from the book, and his scrutinizing gaze was fixed on her body.
It took a while for Anne to understand what he was saying. However, she only replied with a faint "hmm" and did not explain.
Shylock's gray-green eyes narrowed slightly.
Anne smiled. Mr. Holmes's smart brain could solve the most complicated cases, but he was unbelievably slow when it came to ordinary emotions.
He probably could not imagine or understand that what troubled her was the people and things of her previous life. Although it had been 18 years.
.
The rain only lasted for the morning, and crystal-clear water droplets condensed on the leaves of all kinds of flowers and trees. After the weather cleared up, all the moisture was quickly evaporated.
When Anne, Shylock, and Watson set off for London the next morning, the flat road had already been dry again.
Without a more convenient means of transportation, although Longbourn was not too far from London, they did not arrive until the afternoon.
In 19th century London, the wide and clean streets were no longer filled with speeding cars, but with rolling wheels and the clatter of horse hooves.
221B Baker Street was illuminated by the setting sun into a brilliant rose-red color, like a real and illusory dream.
Anne tripped on the hem of her dress as she dismounted from the horse. Shylock reached out and caught her in time.
His dry palms carried a slight warmth that passed through her thin sleeves and onto her wrist.
"Mr. Holmes …"
She did not immediately break away, and he did not immediately let go.
"Yes." Shylock's cold voice hummed.
"… Do you really want to leave this place so badly?"
"Of course."
Of course.
Anne smiled.
This was good.
She came to London with him to help him leave.
Then she could go back to her life.
This was really good.
The afterglow of the setting sun illuminated half of his face. His chiseled facial features, as well as his deep and beautiful gray-green eyes, were looking at her calmly and indifferently.
Anne chuckled and slowly removed her wrist from his palm.
"Okay," she said, "I wish you …" She paused for a moment to search for the right word in her mind, "all your wishes come true."
Shylock withdrew his hand expressionlessly. His empty palm uncomfortably clenched by his side.
Watson took the three people's luggage from the carriage. The doctor looked at Anne thoughtfully. Although the doctor often could not keep up with Shylock's train of thought when it came to solving cases — no one could — Dr. Watson had a keen sense of touch in other aspects.
However, he did not say anything because he knew very well that this was not the right time and place.
The famous door of 221B was pushed open, and an elegant and beautiful woman walked out.
There was no doubt that this must be Mrs. Hudson.
Anne smiled and bent her knees.
"Oh," Mrs. Hudson had already walked over and gave her a warm hug, "You must be Miss Deboer. I knew that those movies and TV dramas could not be trusted. How could they bear to vilify such a beautiful lady? "
"You're too polite, Mrs. Hudson. It's a pleasure to meet you. You can call me Anne. "
Shylock glanced at her sharply. Mr. Holmes's unerring memory told him that she had never said that he could call her Anne.
Moreover, wasn't her face too pale? They had only been on the road for half a day. What a fragile and troublesome woman.
Unfortunately, Anne did not notice Shylock's gaze. She felt that she should do this. During this short period of time, she had indulged herself and paid too much attention to him.
This was a very dangerous sign. She needed to correct it. Anne believed that it was not too late, and she believed that she could do it.
Mrs. Hudson enthusiastically pulled Anne through the door of 221B. She did not even have time to sigh as she stepped into the house full of legends.
After passing through the narrow corridor and stairs, the familiar yet strange living room appeared in front of Anne.
This was really a novel experience. It was like visiting a movie, but she clearly knew that this was not a movie because the great Sherlock Holmes was behind her at the moment.
Ah, now he had passed her and sat in a single sofa in the middle of the living room with a relaxed posture.
"Shylock." Mrs. Hudson looked at him disapprovingly. "The guest is still standing here. You are too rude."
Shylock glanced at Anne without sincerity. "Miss Deboer, please sit down."
If one paid a little attention, they would find that he emphasized the word "Miss Deboer".
But Anne, Mrs. Hudson, and Watson, who followed him into the room, did not notice.
Anne did not sit down because Mrs. Hudson was still standing, and there were only two sofas here. Not everyone could be as willful as Shylock.
"Anne, I have prepared your room. I would be happy to show you. It's downstairs next to my bedroom. I really hope you like the wallpaper and carpet I chose. Oh, of course, and those exquisite table decorations. When Shylock wrote to tell me you were coming, I began to prepare. "
After Mrs. Hudson finished speaking, Anne was stunned.
She did not plan to live in 221B. But there was no doubt that Mrs. Hudson's words inevitably made her heart tremble.
Living with Sherlock Holmes …
"You are too enthusiastic, Mrs. Hudson. Obviously, Miss Anne Deboer won't be staying here. I believe that her dear cousin must have arranged a place for her to stay. "
Shylock's cold voice interrupted Anne's untimely reverie.
"Shylock, did you take the wrong medicine today? You are simply too rude. Of course Anne can live here. 221B needs a young and elegant lady. "
Shylock's gray-green eyes swept over Anne and did not speak.
But Anne did not look at him.
She just smiled at Mrs. Hudson and said, "I'm sorry, Mrs. Hudson. Thank you very much for your invitation, but I'm afraid I can't live here. "
The Darcy family and the Deboer family of course had their own residences in London, in Grosvenor Square, the luxurious Mayfair district.
"That's a pity." Mrs. Hudson's face was full of regret.
The sun had completely fallen below the horizon, and large areas of London's buildings were immersed in the shadow of dusk.
Shylock sat on the sofa with his legs crossed, as if he was in deep thought. His lips were tightly pursed, and his beautiful gray-green eyes stared motionlessly at a certain point in the void.
Anne felt that it was time for her to leave.
She said goodbye to Watson and Mrs. Hudson. As she turned to walk out, she heard Shylock's voice from behind her. "Tomorrow at ten o 'clock in the morning, please don't be late."
With her back facing him, Annie nodded and quickly walked out of the door and down the stairs. She seemed to hear Mrs. Hudson and Dr. Watson's voices criticizing her for being too rude.
But they didn't know that she didn't care. He was Sherlock Holmes, and he was free to do anything.
She didn't know if she was walking too fast, or if the stairs at 221B Baker Street were too dim and narrow, or if she was distracted. Anne only felt that she was stepping on air, and her heart was empty. She was about to roll down the stairs.
She instinctively closed her eyes and didn't even have time to scream.
Her body had just fallen a step when she was pulled back by a strong force from behind.
"It seems that you don't only have sleep problems to solve, but your body coordination is also very worrying."
Shylock's deep voice sounded above her head.
Annie had always known that his voice was pleasant to the ears, but every time she heard it, she would still feel her heart tremble slightly. It was as if a violin suddenly played in the silent night, accompanied by the resplendent starlight, piercing through the window, and no other sound could be heard.
She didn't want to hear anything else.
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