"Alright, Anderson."
Anne stopped helplessly and looked at the person who had been following her all the way. "I believe..,
Shylock is not dead. "
Anne had said this to Anderson many times, but the former forensic doctor of Scotland Yard always thought that she was not sincere.
If it had been two years ago, Anne might not have been able to face Anderson or Donovan as calmly as she did now,
They were the police,
They should have represented justice,
But because of their prejudice, everyone believed that Shylock was a liar.
But now..,
Anne had gradually understood,
Shylock said that they were not important, but these people were really not important. It was not them who defeated him, and it was not them who forced him to choose this way to leave.
Everything he did was to protect the people he loved. And the others..,
There was nothing related. He had always been able to see through the truth of things at a glance, so he always knew what was most important.
Her Sherlock Holmes was so powerful,
And so soft. He was the best person in the world,
And the person she loved the most.
In the end, everyone saw how good he was,
But to him..,
To Anne, none of this mattered anymore.
Anderson was feeling guilty,
But that was his own business. Anne did not care about his past slander,
It did not mean that she wanted to comfort him with his guilt.
Anderson was well prepared this time,
After describing his guess about Shylock's fake death to Anne, he took out the map he had prepared beforehand and spread it out in front of Anne with a "Huala!".
"Look at these locations!" Anderson said excitedly, "Only Shylock can solve the strange cases that happened in these locations. It must be him! New Delhi, Germany, Hamburg, Amsterdam... can't you see it?! He's getting closer and closer! "
Anne stared blankly at the red marks on the map that were gradually approaching London.
Was he really coming back?
The gentle breeze that brushed past her cheeks had already brought with it some warmth. The trees and flowers by the roadside gradually faded from the frost and became more lively. It was almost spring again.
Two years ago, Shylock left at this time.
It had been two years. Was he coming back?
…
Was two years a long time?
It was very long. This was because no matter how long it took, for those who waited, even if it was a short period of time, it was still very difficult to calculate its length.
However, Anne wasn't the only one waiting. Shylock was also waiting.
After completely dismantling the last piece of the puzzle in Moriarty's criminal network, the wait was finally over.
Before Shylock returned, after a thorough investigation by the police, Shylock and Moriarty's "last case" was finally set right — Shylock was acquitted by the court and cleared of all suspicion.
The media, which had called him a "liar" in the past, rushed to report this unprecedented news. Once again, everyone could not wait to stand on the side of justice, as if they had never been the ones who pushed the darkness.
At this moment, the subject of this news is Pall.
Diogenes Club on Mall Street.
The light in the room was dim. Although it was daytime, there was not much sunlight coming in. Only the wall lamps on the four walls illuminated some dim light and shadows.
Shylock stood in Mcauliffe's office with a cold expression on his face. No one could tell that he had not closed his eyes for more than three days. Even a few hours ago, he was still in Serbia, hanging like a rag in a prison by an armed group and being tortured.
After washing away the dust on his body, Mcauliffe's female assistant had already prepared his usual shirt and suit for him.
Shylock glanced at the white shirt and asked softly, "Do you have a purple one?"
The beautiful female assistant was slightly stunned and looked at Mcauliffe.
Sitting behind the desk, Mr. Government of Great Britain nodded slightly, and the assistant turned and left. When she came back a few minutes later, she had changed into a purple shirt in her hand.
Shylock took it with satisfaction.
He was probably the only one who could look so good in this color, and it did not give off the slightest feminine feeling.
Although his expression was calm, in fact, Shylock's heart was beating fast, his mind was tense, and his brain was as active as boiling water, tumbling in it were all the same figure.
His mind was even slightly out of control. The most obvious manifestation was that he actually asked Mcauliffe, "What do you think of this shirt?"
Mr. Government of Great Britain's undisguised disdain fell on his overly excited silly brother. Before he could speak, Shylock immediately stretched out his hand and interrupted him, "Don't say anything, your opinion is not important."
Government of Great Britain: "…"
Shylock stood in front of the fitting mirror and neatly put on his suit jacket. He took a deep breath and said, "OK, now you can tell me."
"What?" Mcauliffe asked knowingly.
Shylock looked at him coldly and said in an emotionless voice, "You know what it is."
Mcauliffe saw that his silly brother was almost done teasing, so he waved his hand slightly. The female assistant next to him stepped forward and handed a stack of files to Shylock.
Shylock reached out and took it. When he opened it, he was stunned.
After looking carefully for a long time, Mr. Holmes said in a low voice, "She … cut her hair." His fair and slender fingers slowly slid across the familiar cheek in the photo, and the corners of his lips curled up. "She's also very cute like this."
Mcauliffe couldn't help but roll his eyes. Shylock had already restrained his expression. He pulled out the photo of Anne from the file and smoothly put it into the inner pocket of his suit, then casually threw the other things on the table.
"Now, we may need a unique way of making a surprise entrance. Who knows? For example, we can suddenly return to Baker Street and jump out of the cake or something. " The proud and smug smile on Mr. Holmes's face returned. "Although it sounds stupid, isn't that what people like to do? She'll probably be very happy. "
Mcauliffe calmly looked at his silly brother whose IQ continued to plummet.
Shylock elegantly adjusted his sleeves and turned to Mcauliffe. "Where is she now?" Then he began to answer his own question. "Today is the weekend. She should be working in Angelo's restaurant."
"Well." Mcauliffe finally said casually, "I doubt that."
Shylock frowned slightly and looked at his brother who was pretending to be mysterious. "Why? Where is she? "
Mcauliffe cheerfully told him, "Today, there's an art exhibition at the Tiger Gallery, displaying precious paintings from the 17th century. It's worth seeing. "
Shylock nodded. She was now a second-year student at the University of the Arts in London. She would indeed be interested in such an art exhibition.
But Mcauliffe then added meaningfully, "I heard that one of her enthusiastic classmates gave her a ticket. There are also a few authentic Rembrandts in the exhibition. Maybe I should take a look. "
In the dim light, Shylock stroked his lips thoughtfully and asked in a low voice, "Which enthusiastic classmate?"
Without waiting for Mcauliffe to answer, Shylock had already said the name himself. "Oh, Dean Ward."
In Mr. Holmes's exquisite memory, this name had appeared twice on Anne's blog. The first time was when the two met at the restaurant where Anne worked and learned that they were schoolmates. The second time, he invited Anne to the London Eye, but Anne refused.
Now, it was the third time.
Shylock's beautiful pupils contracted. If he remembered correctly, this Dean Ward first met Anne a year ago …
Very good, after so long, he still hasn't given up.
.
The Tiger Art Gallery was located on the south bank of the Thames, opposite the ancient and magnificent St. Paul's Cathedral. It was one of the most famous art galleries in London.
Anne only found out after arriving at the gallery that the person who invited her to see the art exhibition was not her roommate, but Dean Ward.
Although Shylock had ridiculed her for being inexperienced in love, Anne was not so stupid that she could not see what this student Dean wanted to do. What's more, the other party had no intention of hiding his pursuit. It was only because he repeatedly hit a wall that he asked Anne's roommate for help.
Dean Ward's name had only appeared twice on Anne's blog, but he had appeared far more times in Anne's life. Since the two of them bumped into each other at Angelo's restaurant, Dean would invite Anne out under various excuses almost every week.
At first, Anne did not realize Dean's intention, so she mentioned it twice on her blog. After understanding, she never mentioned it again. She did not want Shylock to have any misunderstanding, nor did she want him to be jealous or uncomfortable.
In the face of Dean's enthusiasm, Anne would find excuses to refuse at first, but later, she used all the excuses. Anne also tactfully told him that she already had a boyfriend, but the other party was still enthusiastic.
She remembered that Dean said, "It's been five months, and I haven't seen your boyfriend appear. If this person really exists, you should dump him immediately and choose me. Because obviously, as a boyfriend, he is very unqualified. "
Dean thought this was just another excuse for Anne to reject him.
But Anne immediately got angry after hearing this and told him seriously, "When you don't know a person, you shouldn't judge him casually." She even lost control and said childishly, "He is the best person in the world, ten thousand times better than you!"
After that, Anne regretted it very much. Dean did not mean any harm, but she said something rude, so she found an opportunity to apologize.
She really rarely lost her temper. Thinking about it carefully, the few times she lost her temper were all because of Shylock.
Dean Ward did not appear again, and Anne was finally relieved. She was really bad at rejecting people. But today, her roommate, who had agreed to see the art exhibition together, suddenly called and said that she had something to do and could not come. Anne did not think much of it and entered the art gallery alone. Then, she "coincidentally" met Dean Ward, who also came to see the art exhibition.
Probably seeing Anne's awkwardness, Dean was very tactful this time. After a simple greeting, he left on his own and did not continue to pester her. This made Anne breathe a sigh of relief.
In the two years after Shylock left, Anne learned to use painting to calm her sometimes intense and sad feelings. What about him? What would he do when he thought of her?
In the art exhibition hall, Anne stopped in front of the "Hendrickson by the Window" painting and stared at it for a long time.
Perhaps it was because this was a painting that the painter painted for his lover with deep feelings, it reminded her of Shylock.
Anne was fascinated by it.
She thought that she also wanted to paint such a painting and put all the passion in her heart into the brush and paint.
Anne was in a trance, but the exhibition hall was extremely quiet. There were only occasional whispers, so when there was a sudden sound of approaching footsteps behind her, Anne immediately heard it.
Her heart beat violently in her chest, and Anne suddenly turned around.
But she was immediately stunned. The person behind her was Dean Ward, not …
There was a sharp pain in her heart …
Now, she couldn't even hear his footsteps?
Dean was also shocked by the look in Anne's eyes. That bright gaze quickly dimmed after seeing him.
After coming back to his senses, Dean took two steps forward and stopped beside Anne. He looked at her with a complicated gaze. "Are you waiting for someone?"
Anne had quickly collected her emotions. She smiled politely and didn't say anything.
She was waiting for someone. In fact, Anne had been experiencing some ups and downs recently, although these were only in her heart and couldn't be seen by others.
Two years, that was what Mcauliffe said. Like Shylock, Anne also believed that Mcauliffe never made a mistake. If he said two years, then it must be two years.
That was why Annie had been on tenterhooks recently. Even the slightest movement would make her heart jump. She had already experienced countless ups and downs of hope and disappointment.
Anne's gaze returned to the oil painting on the wall, but the beautiful lines and shadows no longer entered her eyes.
Seeing Anne's gaze return to the oil painting in front of her, Dean found a safe topic and spoke.
"Rembrandt's portrait painting reached an unprecedented artistic level in his middle age. When he created this work, Rembrandt was bankrupt in his later years and lived in a dilapidated house in the slums of Amsterdam. Hendrix was only his maid at first, but her gentleness and care brought comfort to the artist's broken heart, so this immortal work was created. "
Of course, Annie knew all of this. She listened quietly and only responded with a smile, not saying anything.
To be fair, Dean was a very outstanding and handsome young man. He was one year older than Anne and was about to finish all the courses at CSM Academy. He had applied for a master's degree at the Royal Academy of Art and was also preparing for his studio in London.
Since the first time he saw Anne's warm smile at the restaurant where she worked, he had been pursuing her relentlessly.
Dean was an active student in school. In the beginning, his pursuit of Anne was very high-profile, but even when his enthusiasm troubled Anne, she only frowned slightly and politely rejected him.
At first, it might have been a faint affection, but it later turned into an obsession that refused to admit defeat. Until that time, when her boyfriend was mentioned, she suddenly lost her temper — it could be considered a temper tantrum. Although her expression was serious and cold, her voice was still soft.
It was probably at that time that Dean's state of mind suddenly changed.
Anne didn't care about her pursuer's state of mind. She looked down at the time and prepared to leave. She didn't like to show her low and true emotions in front of strangers.
Just as she was about to say goodbye to Dean Ward, a deep and magnetic voice sounded in her ears.
"If I had such a boring guide standing next to me, I wouldn't be able to help but want to run away."
That light and arrogant tone made it easy for people to imagine every subtle expression on his face when he spoke.
The moment the voice entered her ears, Anne's body suddenly stiffened.
She could no longer hear his footsteps, but she must have firmly remembered this voice because in the past two years and more than seven hundred days and nights, she often heard this voice say in her ear, "I, you.
love
You, Anne. "
The person who had said those words to her two years ago had made her so happy yet so sad at the same time. She only wanted him to come back early and tell him her response.
Now, he was really back and standing beside her, but she didn't dare to look up.
He … This person who suddenly appeared and stood beside her … He definitely didn't know how many times she had dreamed of him.
Too many times, and for too long.
In those dreams, he also stood in front of her like this, giving her infinite joy. However, as long as she reached out to touch his cheek or hair, he would disperse like the morning fog and disappear completely.
"So, I suggest you change to a better male companion," Anne heard that cool voice say again.
However, her brain froze along with her body. She couldn't connect the two sentences together, nor could she understand what he was saying.
The exhibition hall was spacious and bright. Shylock's tall and thin figure was accentuated by the fitting black suit. Not far behind him was a floor-to-ceiling glass window. The sunlight shone in diagonally and stopped at his feet.
Annie stared blankly at the small patch of light by his feet. Her mind was blank. Her heart, which had stopped abruptly at the beginning, started to beat like a drum again.
After a while, she raised a hand to cover her eyes. She didn't know if it was because she was afraid that everything in front of her was a dream or because she wanted to cover her tears that were about to burst out.
Shylock's heavy gaze turned from Anne to the side. "You can go." He said to Dean Ward, who was in shock.
"You … You are …" Dean still hadn't recovered from the shock.
Shylock quickly answered his question, "Yes." Then, he slightly tilted his head in the direction of the door. Expressionless and concise, he said, "Go."
Dean looked at Anne hesitantly. In the end, he turned around and left under Mr. Holmes's cold gaze.
After a moment of silence, Shylock took a deep breath. He felt his throat dry and tight, as if he hadn't drunk water for a week. This was really strange.
"I have to say," His girl didn't even want to look at him, so Mr. Holmes had to speak up himself. "This is a little different from what I imagined a reunion scene."
Did he imagine the scene of them reuniting? Many nights, Anne had to rely on this kind of illusory imagination to get through those long and hopeless nights.
His slightly cold fingers clasped her wrist and gently pulled down her hand that covered her eyes.
She finally felt the familiar texture of his skin again.
Anne stared at him blankly. She finally saw the face that she had drawn countless times on the canvas. His thick eyebrows, handsome nose, and slightly pursed lips looked childish. And those eyes that were always as deep as a pool, at this moment, the corners of his eyes were actually a little red. Some kind of strong emotion surged in his pupils as he stared at her.
Anne had always thought that she could understand his departure. In the past two years, she had never been angry about it. She was more worried about him.
However, now that he was really standing in front of her, she suddenly felt very wronged. Although the past two years often made people feel sad, Anne really rarely cried. She would only be in a daze when she thought of him. Until this moment, the tears that had been suppressed for a long time seemed to have finally found a breakthrough and rushed to be the first to burst out.
Shylock's clear eyes trembled slightly in their sockets, but he pursed his lips and said, "Before we start hugging, kissing, comforting … and a series of cliché scenes that are absolutely necessary for a reunion, let me say something first.
Anne looked at him.
Mr. Holmes's deep and pleasant voice sounded faintly. "Agreeing to come to the art exhibition with that goldfish called Dean Ward is definitely the worst decision you've ever made."
After Anne heard this, she still stared at him without moving. Her expression didn't change at all, but her eyes that had already cried instantly became redder.
Shylock looked at the expression on Anne's face. His handsome eyebrows slightly furrowed, and he took a rare, helpless breath. Mr. Holmes finally realized that it didn't seem very appropriate to say this now.
Anne had already retracted her gaze and walked to the entrance of the exhibition hall without saying a word. The detective pursed his lips and obediently followed behind her.
When they were outside, the soft spring sunlight shone down. Shylock's long legs took a few steps forward and pulled the person in front of him. He wrapped his arms around her and pressed her directly into his embrace.
The moment Anne was hugged by him, her arms had already eagerly reached out as if she had finally found a lost treasure. She tightened her arms around his waist and pressed her cheeks tightly against his chest. Even so, she still felt that it wasn't close enough, not tight enough. She really missed the familiar smell on his body.
Anne wasn't angry at what Shylock had said just now. She really understood the person she loved the most. He had only said those words because he was always arrogant and conceited, even if he was as sad as she was.
Yes, as soon as he pretended to speak in a relaxed tone, Anne knew that he was as sad as she was, and even more guilty than she was.
If she didn't turn around and calm down, she would definitely cry uncontrollably. That would only make him feel more sad and guilty.
When their bodies were finally pressed against each other again, Annie could feel his hot and rapid breaths on her neck. She could even feel that he was trembling slightly.
Shylock hugged her a little harder, and his deep and hoarse voice sounded a little gentle above her head.
He said, "I …
miss
you
too。”
Anne was stunned in his arms. That sentence … He had seen it.
Her nose felt sour, and her vision blurred. Her eyes were wet, but her lips curled into a faint smile.
Anne said softly, "I …
love
you
Too, Shylock … "
Although this was what Anne had thought countless times about telling him when they met, it was inevitable that her cheeks would be hot when she really said it.
And Anne almost immediately felt that the body hugging her trembled slightly. Anne's heart also beat violently with his frequency. Because they knew that they both had the same burning and strong feelings, this feeling was so mysterious that it made people want to cry.
After a long silence, Shylock said lightly, "Well, the scene now is somewhat in line with the imagination."
Anne thought of what he had just said. "Isn't it the cliché plot of 'reunion'?"
"Sometimes I don't mind feeling the vulgarity of people."
Anne chuckled. This was still the same arrogant Sherlock Holmes as before.
But his voice was so nice! It made Anne think of his beautiful violin music.
Her thin arms wrapped tighter around his waist. "I may be angry for a while." Anne was also proud at this moment. She buried her face in his chest and said softly.
"OK." Shylock agreed. He paused for a few seconds and looked down at her. "How long have you been preparing to be angry?"
Anne paused for a moment. "It definitely won't be as long as two years."
Shylock hugged her and didn't say anything.
Anne's heart softened first. She slowly stood up from his arms. There were still tears in her eyes, but she smiled and reached out to touch his hair. Then her eyes fell on his angular cheeks.
This man she loved was smart, arrogant, mean, and sharp-tongued … But he was as capricious as a child, as noble as the first snowflake in winter, as dazzling as the stars, as warm as the morning sun, as sweet as coffee and sugar … There was no one else like him in the world. She would never fall in love with anyone else like she loved him.
He was back … back to her …
Perhaps only reuniting with the lover after a long separation could make us smile with tears in our eyes.
The light wind of early spring blew on her and his body. It wasn't very warm, but it was very soft, like a soft feather brushing against one's cheek. The weather seemed to know people's feelings, blooming like a flower. Behind them the Thames was a glittering sheet of gold.
Anne opened her palm and compared the top of her head with his nose bridge. She smiled and said something irrelevant. "Did you notice?"
The hair in front of her forehead was blown by the wind behind her, swaying on her cheeks, and the corners of her eyes were movingly red. Shylock looked down at her. Her hair was soft and golden like the morning sun.
Shylock stared at her for a long time before nodding. "3.5 centimeters." She grew 3.5 centimeters taller, but lost at least 12 pounds.
Before he appeared in front of Anne, Shylock had been standing behind her silently for a long time. She had cut her hair short, and the thin strands covered her forehead. Her soft, slightly curly golden hair hung down her neck, and there was a bit of vitality and liveliness between her gentle and soft eyebrows.
She looked very beautiful like this.
However, Mr. Holmes still frowned. Because he could see that she had lost weight at a glance. Anne was thin to begin with, and now her sharp chin was more obvious. Her thin arms seemed like they would break with a little force.
Anne didn't know that he was unhappy in his heart, because she suddenly noticed something else. Of course, he was still wearing his usual black suit, but what caught Annie's attention was his shirt — it was purple, her favorite color.
Anne was very sure that he deliberately wore it for her to see.
She felt sour and soft in her heart. She couldn't help but reach out and hug him again. This time, she tiptoed and directly hugged his neck. Her warm cheeks gently pressed against his.
"I really miss you so much, Shylock." Her eyes were wet again.
Many nights, she lay alone on the big bed in the bedroom, feeling that she was the only one left in the world. That kind of lonely feeling almost drove her crazy.
But that was not the worst. Worst of all, she couldn't imagine what it was like for him to be alone. Was he as sad as she was? As long as she thought of this, her heart hurt so much that she almost couldn't breathe.
Every time like this, Anne would go to the studio downstairs and paint his portrait all night …
But it was all over, and he was back. Her Shylock … There was nothing more important than this.
…
In the blink of an eye, time receded like the tide, and the two long years that had passed between them all disappeared on their own. She was here, he was here, and nothing had changed. Everything was just right.
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