This was the second time today that Shylock had supported her.
An unfamiliar warmth spread from her back bit by bit. When Shylock held her, Anne lost her balance and fell onto him.
His lean and tall body supported her weight.
It was already spring, so the two of them didn't wear much. Shylock's suit was unbuttoned, and there was only a thin shirt inside. Anne could almost feel the stiffness and thinness of his chest.
Her face was burning hot from the body heat behind her.
"Miss Deboer." Shylock looked down at the little head full of yellow hair in front of him. "How much longer do you want to lean on me?"
Anne snapped back to reality and quickly stood up straight.
She maintained her posture with her back to him and paused for a moment. So she didn't see that Shylock, who was behind her, unconsciously reached out to touch the chest she had just leaned on after she stood up.
Anne adjusted her state of mind, turned around, and said with a smile, "Thank you, Mr. Holmes." Her voice was clear and her smile was gentle.
Shylock looked at her expressionlessly and didn't say anything. His gaze moved down and quickly swept over her neck.
Anne noticed it.
Looking down, she realized that when he had pulled her just now, the collar of her shirt had been pulled askew, revealing a large area of fair skin on her neck and left shoulder.
Anne's face turned red again. Just as she was about to reach out to fix it, she saw Shylock suddenly reach out two slender fingers and pinch the edge of her collar, helping her to fix her clothes as if nothing had happened.
When he withdrew his hand, his slightly cold fingertips gently brushed against her neck. Anne's heart trembled violently.
She looked up.
Shylock was standing on the steps one step higher than her. His eyes looking down at her were as clear and clean as a deep green pool, without a single ripple.
Anne felt like she was a hooligan for letting her imagination run wild.
He probably thought that since he was the one who messed up the clothes, he should tidy them up.
Anne lowered her head in a self-deprecating manner. She tugged at the corner of her lips and whispered, "You're already very tall. Why are you still standing so high?"
Shylock really walked down the stairs and stood beside her.
His tall figure squeezed in, making the narrow stairs seem even more cramped. Anne clung to the wall beside her, trying her best not to touch him.
Mr. Holmes didn't notice it at all. He calmly glanced at her.
"Let's go." After Shylock finished speaking, he took Anne's wrist and walked her to the street outside 221B.
Anne lowered her head, forcing herself not to look at the expression on his face. She knew very well that Shylock was holding her hand as a safety precaution. He did not want her "worrisome body coordination" to cause any bloodshed where he lived.
Well, she didn't think too much about it.
However, the warmth from that palm made Anne's entire body burn up, starting from her wrist.
He was really tall. Anne was held by him and was slightly behind him by two steps. From her position, when she looked up, she could only see his back and his fair and well-defined side profile.
Anne felt that her mind was filled with memories related to him. In her previous life, when she was trapped in the hospital with her weak body, she had tirelessly watched his figure on the screen.
But now, when she wanted to capture it in detail, she couldn't even capture a certain image. It was like a wind blowing in a snowy day, and he was standing behind a white curtain that was swept up by the wind.
It was a miraculous but untimely encounter.
He finally stopped.
He stopped in front of the carriage at the entrance.
The twilight was deep, and they were shrouded in the shadows of the 19th century.
Shylock let go of her hand. Anne immediately lifted the corner of her dress and sat in the carriage. Just as she was about to thank and say goodbye, Shylock also leaned over and sat beside her indifferently.
"You?" Anne looked at him with a puzzled expression.
"John thinks that as the party making the request, we should show due gratitude and hospitality. For example, send you home. Mrs. Hudson wants to prepare dinner. John said he wants to write his blog, although we all know that there aren't any interesting cases recently, and he definitely won't be able to post. So — "Shylock looked at her and expressed his final meaning — you can only choose me.
Sure enough.
Anne smiled good-naturedly. "You don't have to do this. I'm volunteering to help. Besides … "She paused for a moment." I might not be able to help. "
Mr. Holmes's answer was to stretch his long arm out of the window and knock on the carriage. The carriage started to move slowly.
Anne pursed her lips and didn't say anything.
She turned to look out of the window. In the silent evening, the streets were shrouded in a thin layer of fog. Occasionally, carriages would pass by them.
Although the streets were flat and wide, there were many carriages and pedestrians, so they moved very slowly. It wasn't like when they were in the countryside, where there were no people in the fields and they could gallop at any time.
But Anne liked this kind of slowness.
"I'm very surprised that you never thought of going back with us." Shylock suddenly said.
Go back?
Anne smiled bitterly. For them, it was going back, but for her, it was just another unfamiliar place.
"I was born here, and I have my new family and friends here. Of course I won't leave. "
"But you know very well that you are not Anne De Boer." His indifferent and calm voice sounded a little cold.
How should she explain that she was already Anne De Boer? Although she didn't know why she kept the soul and memory of her previous life, but everything in the past, with her death, was indeed drawn to an eternal end.
"Shylock …"
Anne wanted to try to tell him, but she was interrupted as soon as she opened her mouth.
"You called my name." His eyes lit up, as if he had suddenly found a loophole in a complicated case.
Huh?
He looked at her with his bright gray-green eyes and explained in a pleasant voice, "Just now, you called my name. Shylock. So, I can also call you Anne. "
Anne nodded blankly. "Of course you can call me Anne, Mr. Holmes …" This wasn't a deal.
"Shylock." The man next to her corrected her seriously.
Anne indeed didn't realize that she had called his name. But why did he care so much?
"You can continue." Sherlock lowered his head to look at her and reminded her softly.
"Oh … I mean …" Anne's mind went blank.
Uh, what were they talking about just now?
.
It was Anne's first time at the Deboer family's mansion in London.
Darcy had written a letter in advance to arrange everything. When Anne and Shylock arrived in a carriage, the butler and servants were already waiting at the door.
"Thank you for sending me back, Mr. Holmes …"
Shylock looked at her calmly and didn't say anything.
Anne reacted and laughed at his childish behavior. "… Shylock."
She softly changed her words, but her cheeks were still inevitably hot.
It was just a name.
At night, Anne lay in bed. As expected, she couldn't sleep again. She didn't sleep well easily, not to mention that she had just changed to a new environment.
She wanted to keep a distance from him, but their relationship had inexplicably risen from "Mr. Holmes" to "Shylock".
It was just a change of name, but only Anne knew what it meant.
While she was vexed, she couldn't hide the small and secret joy in her heart. It kept tumbling in her chest, making her smile just thinking about it.
Be it as An Jing or Anne, she had never had any experience in love. Anne could sense the secret feelings she had for Shylock, but she didn't feel that these hidden feelings couldn't be extricated from the level of love between a man and a woman. It was probably more of an idol-like admiration.
What she needed to do was to maintain this secret emotion at the level of admiration. That was enough.
.
The next day, at 10 a.m., Anne appeared at 221B Baker Street on time.
The person who opened the door was still Mrs. Hudson.
Anne immediately received the same warm hug as yesterday.
"Hello, Mrs. Hudson." Anne handed the pastry box decorated with beautiful ribbons to the cute lady at the door.
"You're so considerate, dear." Mrs. Hudson's smile became even gentler. "Hurry up and go up. Shylock is waiting for you. I want to find a beautiful plate to hold these exquisite snacks. "
In fact, Shylock wasn't the only one waiting for Anne in the living room on the second floor. However, Anne blushed instantly when Mrs. Hudson mentioned Shylock.
Mrs. Hudson looked at her with a knowing look before turning to leave.
Anne wanted to sigh. Could it be that everyone living in this house is "Holmes?"
As she calmed her heartbeat, she walked upstairs.
Shylock is waiting for you. This sentence really made one's heart beat faster.
It wasn't until a long time later that she heard something that made her heart race even more.
At that time, she had already moved into Baker Street. As soon as she entered, she saw a tall and thin man sitting on the sofa with his fingers on his lips, as if he was kissing his fingertips. She just smiled and asked casually, "What are you doing?" The pair of light green eyes looked over and replied calmly, "Can't you tell? I'm waiting for you. "
At that moment, there were three people waiting in the living room.
Anne wasn't surprised to see the slightly balding middle-aged man in a three-piece suit and holding a black umbrella.
"Annie." Sherlock called out her name as a form of greeting when he saw her.
Shylock was also in a suit, but he didn't wear a tie, so he looked a bit lazy and unruly.
In the middle of the small parlor, there were only two single sofas. The two Mr. Holmes sat opposite each other with their slender legs crossed. It was obvious that they were in a standoff.
Anne curtsied and said politely, "Mr. Holmes …"
However, Shylock and Mcauliffe looked at her at the same time.
Mcauliffe glanced at Shylock and said, "Miss Deboer is calling me, Xiali."
Shylock looked back arrogantly and said, "Of course I know Anne is calling you. She's always called me Shylock."
Anne: "…"
If she remembered correctly, she had only called him Shylock yesterday. Why was it "always"?
Also, what was with the smug and boastful tone? Was there anything to be proud of about her calling him by his name?
It wasn't just Mcauliffe; even Watson couldn't help looking at Shylock.
The two onlookers seemed to realize something at the same time, but only the person involved, Mr. Sherlock Holmes, remained unperturbed. The arrogant joy on his face was only because he had won against his brother, who always emphasized that he was smarter than him, when it came to how Anne addressed him and Mcauliffe.
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