Last night,
Anne was about to fall asleep when she felt Shylock put something on her ring finger.
She was too tired, and her whole body was so sore that she didn't want to move a finger, but she still opened her eyes.
She raised her hand and saw that the small diamond ring was back on her ring finger.
Shylock stared at the ring that symbolized his promise for a while, then kissed it, just like when he proposed to her.
"Anne." He called her name.
Anne had always felt that her name was too ordinary, but every time he called her name in such a deep and mellow voice,
It made her feel that it was the most beautiful word in the world,
She could listen to it for the rest of her life,
She would never get tired of it.
He said, "Anne,
This won't be our last Christmas. "
Anne's heart trembled violently.
He could see it.
Yes, of course he could see it. He was Sherlock Holmes,
Any concealment or disguise was nothing in front of him.
"We'll spend every Christmas together from now on. You're Mrs. Holmes, don't forget that. This means that no one or anything can separate us. Except death. "
No one or anything can separate us. Except death.
..
Early in the morning, when Shylock woke up, the other side of the bed was empty. He reached out and touched it. It was slightly cold. Anne had been up for a long time.
Mr. Holmes's beautiful eyes narrowed slightly. It seemed that he hadn't worked hard enough last night,
That she still had the strength to get up so early.
Rubbing his messy curly hair, Detective Holmes got out of bed with infinite resentment.
He walked into the living room,
Everyone was already up,
Seeing him,
There was a friendly and subtle expression on their faces.
Shylock glanced around without interest and only found that Anne wasn't there.
He went to the kitchen to pour himself a cup of coffee. Mrs. Holmes walked up to him and lovingly patted him on the shoulder. She pretended to be mysterious and said, "If I were you, I would wash up and change first."
Shylock lowered his head to look at his robe, took a sip of coffee, and asked casually, "Where's Anne?"
Mrs. Holmes raised her hand and pointed out the window.
Shylock frowned. What was she doing outside alone? Did he go for a morning jog again?
While thinking, Shylock wanted to walk to the door.
Mrs. Holmes pulled him back. "Go change your clothes first."
Shylock grew impatient.
"Trust me," Mrs. Holmes said.
Baby Shylock had no choice but to go back to his room and change his clothes before his mommy allowed him to go out.
He had just walked to the door when Anne returned.
When she saw him, her light green pupils flashed brightly, as if all the morning light had fallen into her eyes in an instant.
Shylock was stunned by the expression on her face. Then, he realized that she didn't even wear a coat. She had always been afraid of the cold, but at this moment, there was a fine layer of sweat on her forehead.
Shylock lowered his head and glanced at her shoes and trousers. She didn't go for a run either.
Anne interrupted his reasoning and stood in front of him, unable to hide the smile on her face.
She asked, "Are you ready to open your Christmas present, Mr. Holmes?"
Christmas present? Shylock tilted his head and looked at her. He thought he had already "opened" the "present" last night.
Anne was completely unaware of the evil thoughts running through a certain detective's mind. She smiled and pulled him forward. "There's no need for your exquisite reasoning, Mr. Detective. The present is right in front of you. You can see it for yourself now!"
They slowly walked to the open grass in front of the house.
Anne didn't deliberately mystify him. She didn't cover his eyes to prevent him from seeing it like in the movies and TV series. She didn't present the carefully prepared "surprise" in front of him until they were close enough.
She didn't do that, nor did she need to, because this present was already shocking enough. No matter when he saw it, how long he looked at it, or how many times he looked at it, he would still be extremely shocked.
This was the work that Anne had originally prepared to participate in the Seine Prize. To be precise, it was a group of works.
There were a total of 20 oil paintings, each of which was nearly two meters tall. Now, they were arranged in two rows, standing neatly in front of Shylock.
Looking at each painting individually, it was full of imaginative abstract style. Those smooth lines and bright colors, some were childish, some were messy, some were introspective and peaceful, and some were manic as if they were about to jump out of the canvas.
But they all existed for a theme … Anne named this group of works "My Love."
So, they only had one theme — Sherlock Holmes.
The rising sun swept through the shadows of the mountains at the end of the sky, gilding the grass, the people standing on the grass, and every oil painting in front of them.
Shylock saw that the 20 oil paintings were cleverly combined with perspective to form a huge portrait. His portrait.
In fact, when Shylock saw part of Anne's completed works in the studio on Baker Street, he had already guessed it — not from her works, but from her expression. However, this didn't reduce the deep shock in his heart at this moment.
Now, he stood in front of these oil paintings, standing straight and motionless for a long time. Only his heart beat faster and faster in his chest. In the end, even his fingertips were trembling slightly. He thought that he could even feel the heat and moisture in his eyes.
Painting, like music, could be used to express emotions.
Anne loved Shylock. Everyone knew that, including Shylock.
However, there had never been a moment like this, when Shylock felt the strong emotions in her heart so vividly. That kind of reality and intensity even made his heart tremble a little.
In this life, Shylock had never thought that he could love someone like this, and never thought that he could be loved like this by someone.
It was to the extent that it made people feel despair and fear.
Anne stood beside him and stared at his expression for a while. She thought that this meant that he liked this gift very much.
"Okay." Anne gently pulled his hand. "I know, you like it, but you're a little exaggerated now."
No, it wasn't exaggerated at all.
But Shylock still didn't speak for a long time. He felt that he couldn't control the expression on his face at all. He wanted to laugh, but his lips were tightly pressed together. It seemed that if he didn't do so, his emotions would flow out directly from his mouth.
"Anne." Detective Holmes, who had always been calm, was trying hard not to let his voice tremble.
"I like it very much." He repeated, "I like it very much..."
Anne looked at him and smiled gently. She was very happy that he liked it.
Shylock reached out and pulled her over, then wrapped her body, which was soaked in the cold wind, into his arms with his coat.
This morning was really beautiful. The golden rays of the sun reflected the sky half orange and half light blue.
Shylock stood under the morning light with her in his arms for a long time, looking at the best Christmas gift he had received.
The vast world seemed to close in at this moment, closing in on this small piece of grass and around this huge oil painting — they were also the most moving scenery in this painting.
"Merry Christmas, Mr. Holmes."
"Merry Christmas, Mrs. Holmes."
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