Anne didn't know when she fell asleep on Christmas Eve.
But she was sure that..,
After this night, she would never see Blessedcurls in a cute Christmas sweater again.
Anne didn't want to let him go.
She patted the seat beside her for him to sit down.
Sherlock looked down at her from above, his eyes deep and serene.
He stood still.
Anne didn't feel that anything was wrong. She raised her head and said, "Don't you want to know how I used to spend Christmas?"
She smiled gently and looked at him with a clear and shallow gaze. "I want to tell you."
Those were originally very warm,
But when a person recalled them, they would always be filled with sour memories. I want to tell you.
Shylock's deep gaze converged,
He sat down beside Anne.
Anne smiled happily,
Then she muttered, "Hmm — let me think."
Actually, there was no need to think about it. The scene of spending Christmas with her family in the past,
Anne had already recalled it countless times in her mind during this period of time.
"It started when I was about eight years old,
After the old Mr. and Mrs. Darcy passed away, I usually spent Christmas with my mother, Darcy, and Georgiana. Sometimes they came to Rosings, and sometimes my mother took me to Pemberley. Everyone decorated the Christmas tree together,
Sang "God,
Rest
ye
merry
Gentlemen, eating Christmas dinner, playing guessing games,
Opening presents... "
Anne's voice was extremely soft,
Like the early morning mist,
As if the wind would scatter in the cool air.
At this point,
Anne thought it was time for Mr. Holmes to make a sarcastic remark about their lacklustre Christmas activities. But he was very quiet, looking at her with his gray-green eyes,
He didn't say anything.
Anne's gaze fell on Shylock.
She didn't know if it was because the night was too quiet,
Or if the soft Christmas sweater covered up his indifference and arrogance,
Anne felt that Sherlock Holmes, who was sitting beside her, was unusually warm. He was like a big cat that had retracted its claws and was emitting heat. He was obediently nestled beside her, quietly accompanying and listening to her.
There was an indescribable softness in her heart.
Anne gently moved towards him. She tilted her head and rested it on his shoulder. Her soft hair swept across his neck.
In the direction she was facing, she happened to see the winter snow that was still falling outside the window.
Anne shifted slightly on his body and found the most comfortable position. She continued to speak slowly.
"If it snows like today, Darcy and Georgiana will build a snowman in the garden." At this point, Anne wrinkled her nose unhappily. "Because my body was very weak at that time, I could only stand aside and watch. But in the end, Darcy always asked me to put eyes, a nose, and a mouth on the snowman. "
Mr. Holmes finally couldn't take it anymore. He said in a cool voice, "If I remember correctly, that Mr. Darcy is ten years older than you."
He was obviously mocking Darcy for being childish when he was building a snowman with a little girl.
Anne couldn't help but laugh. She tugged at his sweater sleeve and shook it gently. She said seriously, word by word, "This is called having a childlike innocence."
The person behind her snorted softly and didn't say anything.
Anne reached out and scratched his palm to comfort him.
Shylock's body froze. He closed his palm and caught her fingers.
Anne smiled.
"Actually, I've always felt that I was very lucky. Whether it was in my previous life or this life, I had a very warm family and a family that loved me very, very much. And now-- "She stirred a little on his shoulder, and said softly," I have met you again. "
Annie felt the palm that was holding her hand tremble slightly. Then, he suddenly tightened his grip, but his voice was still low and cold.
"Usually, those who meet me don't think that it's a kind of luck."
Annie's little head, which was resting on his shoulder, turned around and looked up at him. From this angle, she could only see his fair side profile and chin, the curve of his tall nose, and slightly pursed lips.
After a few seconds, Shylock finally lowered his eyes and looked at her.
Anne returned him a warm smile. She straightened her body slightly and kissed him on the cheek — yes, she finally kissed his cheek this time.
Shylock heard her say in a soft voice, "Then I should thank them for leaving such a good you to me."
Anne didn't want to be emotional. She really thought so. But she immediately realized that after saying this, Mr. Holmes's ears actually turned red.
His handsome face was cold. He looked straight ahead and refused to look at her. His beautiful curly hair hung on his sides and covered half of his ears. His skin was fair, so the blush on his earlobes was very obvious.
Anne reached out and touched his earlobes. "Shylock, are you shy?"
After a few seconds of silence, Mr. Holmes lowered his head and looked at her calmly. "Do you think it's possible?"
"Yes, yes, it's impossible." Anne nodded cooperatively. "You're Sherlock Holmes, the best consulting detective in England. How can you be shy?"
Shylock didn't want to talk to her anymore.
Tsundere was a disease, but Anne wanted to continue spoiling him. What should he do?
She gently tugged at his fingers and said with a smile, "Do you want to tell me about your past Christmases?"
Shylock frowned and thought for a second, then said decisively, "No."
Anne imagined Shylock and Mcauliffe sitting at the same table for Christmas dinner and couldn't help laughing. That must have been the most colorful Christmas Eve.
Anne didn't know when she had changed her position from leaning against him to lying directly on his lap.
Shylock refused to talk about his Christmases, so Anne recalled and patiently told him the interesting things about her growing up.
Anne soon realized that Shylock didn't seem to like her mentioning Darcy. As long as she mentioned anything related to Darcy, the tsundere Mr. Holmes would always mock her coldly.
Anne was a little helpless. She didn't understand why he was so hostile to Darcy.
She changed the topic and told him about how her family celebrated Christmas together in her previous life. She told him that in China, they didn't celebrate Christmas. The Spring Festival was the most lively festival of the year. No matter how far away they were, everyone would rush home on this day to celebrate the New Year together.
Anne's voice was a little low.
Shylock looked down at her. "There's a good Chinese restaurant at the end of Baker Street. I'll take you there when I have time."
Anne nodded. "Okay."
She picked up his big palm and opened it. She put her warm little hand on it and compared it with his.
Well, it was much smaller.
Shylock looked at the thin and small hand that was almost two knuckles shorter than his. Sure enough, she was short and her hands were small.
Anne didn't know that she was being despised again. She got up from the bed and leaned over the window to look outside.
"It's still snowing outside."
Shylock looked over as well. Outside the window, snowflakes were still drifting down in silence, and they soundlessly covered everything in the world in an expanse of white.
He suddenly stood up and said, "Let's go."
Anne turned to look at him. "Where are we going?"
Then she saw that arrogant and charming smile on Shylock's face again.
He said, "Have you ever heard of a snow concert, Miss Anne De Boer?"
Anne was stunned. It took a few seconds for her to understand what he meant.
Her light green eyes lit up. Was he going to play the violin for her in the snow?
Seeing that she understood, Shylock's smile flashed. When Anne wanted to look again, he had already turned around and walked to the door.
Anne jumped out of bed excitedly, grabbed her coat and wrapped it around herself, and chased after him.
At the stairs, Shylock asked her to wait and ran up the stairs with his long legs.
Anne thought he was going to get the violin, but Mr. Holmes, who came downstairs, had quickly returned to his elegant and noble appearance in his suit.
Shylock insisted on changing back to his shirt and suit, and didn't hide his dislike for the cute Christmas sweater. But Anne had to admit that the way he played the violin on the street in a slim-fit black suit was really charming.
The snow-covered Baker Street was empty and quiet, and there wasn't a single pedestrian. His face was almost tender in the yellow light of the street lamp, and his deep, beautiful eyes were fixed on her — and only on her — the whole time.
Anne didn't doubt that this was the most beautiful and moving performance she had ever heard, and she was the only audience at the scene.
The gentle snowflakes fell on his shoulders, hair, fingers, and his violin.
The way he played the violin was the most beautiful scene in the world.
Anne looked at him quietly, her eyes burning. She realized that she couldn't find a word to describe the beauty of this moment, nor could she find any words to describe his beauty.
The vast expanse of snow covered all the noise in the world. His music was the only sound. He was also the only color left.
That night, Anne didn't know how long they stood on the snow-covered street, and she didn't know how many songs Shylock played.
She just felt that this night seemed to be endless, and they could stand face to face like this forever, in the middle of the snowfield, even if they were shivering from the cold.
But at the same time, he felt that time was too short and fast. One song after another flowed out from the strings of his guqin, and time also slipped past his skin second after second.
Anne believed that she must have fallen asleep, and all of this was just a dream.
Because it was too beautiful and too romantic, it could only be a dream...
.
The next day, when she opened her eyes, Anne looked at the ceiling above her and was stunned for a few seconds. Then the corners of her lips started to curl up, and finally turned into a big smile.
She got up from the bed and opened the curtains.
The snow outside had stopped, leaving a white world.
For the first time, Anne couldn't stay in the bedroom. She put on her coat and pushed the door open.
Next door, Mrs. Hudson's door was closed. Perhaps she hadn't woken up yet. The whole apartment was quiet.
Anne looked up the stairs to the second floor. Oh, it seemed that everyone was lazing in bed.
She walked past the entrance and pushed open the door of 221B.
The cool wind blew, and Anne tightened her coat.
Occasionally, cars drove by on the street. The flat snow from last night had already left messy tire tracks and footprints.
Anne closed her eyes and took a deep breath. From the moment she opened her eyes until now, the smile on her face had not disappeared.
Oh, no. To be exact, before she opened her eyes, even in her sleep, the corners of her lips were also curled up happily.
What to do? The happiness in her heart was overflowing. She really wanted to say Merry Christmas to the whole world!
She stood at the door of the apartment for a while. Just as she was about to turn around and go back, she lowered her head and saw a short and fat white thing standing by the flower pond at the door.
Anne was stunned. It was a snowman.
She walked over in a daze and squatted down. This was probably the most … special snowman that Anne had ever seen. Because the snowman's head and body were perfectly round. Among the people she knew, there was probably only one person who had such a scientific and rigorous attitude no matter what he did.
But the most surprising thing was that the snowman's round head was blank. There were no eyes, nose, or mouth.
Anne chuckled. Then she got up and ran back to the bedroom. She found a few buttons in the bedroom and a carrot in the fridge. After she came out with the things she found, she squatted in front of the snowman with perfect proportions and carefully fitted it with eyes, nose, and mouth.
The snowman with facial features immediately became lively and cute.
"Merry Christmas, Mr. Snowman." Anne smiled and said softly.
Merry Christmas, Mom.
Merry Christmas, Darcy.
Merry Christmas, Shylock...
You've already exceeded your reading limit for today. If you want to read more, please log in.
Login
Select text and click 'Report' to let us know about any bad translation.
