Operation Red Book

Ivy and Mrs. Hudson hugged each other and cried for a long time before they finally calmed down.

But Mrs. Hudson's tears could not stop flowing, and Ivy could not stop sobbing.

The two ladies, one old and one young, were as fragile and helpless as dolls on the counter of a doll shop. Their tears, enough to irrigate the entire Sahara Desert, attracted the attention of every passerby.

Finally, after the fifteenth hurried passerby cast a strange look in his direction, Holmes could bear it no longer.

He grabbed Ivy's shaking shoulders with one hand and kicked Joshua's butt, signaling him to "move" Mrs. Hudson back into the house.

The two ladies were in poor condition, and the two men were "kitchen losers" who never cooked.

But they were tired from the journey and were already hungry.

Holmes had no choice but to put on the old gray black coat again and went out with sweat all over his head.

He took a winding route to a French restaurant, squinted at the menu and ordered a number of French dishes that looked very tempting.

Confit duck legs, smoked steak, puff pastry, cream of onion soup, and thoughtfully ordered two freshly baked strawberry ice cream puffs for Ivy and Mrs. Hudson.

After ordering, he sat at the round wooden table closest to the door, reading that day's newspaper while anxiously tapping the ground with his leather shoes.

The receptionist of this restaurant is a short and fat French guy who looks like a silly monkey but speaks like Mickey Mouse. He keeps bragging in an unpleasant French accent about how great their famous French chef is.

But Holmes didn't care. He just wanted to eat quickly. It didn't matter whether the chef was French or Italian, as long as he was not one of those German chefs who couldn't cook at all.

As it turns out, not only the front desk clerk and the chef are French, but even the waiter in charge of packaging and the manager are slow and leisurely old French men.

Holmes waited with his legs crossed for more than an hour before he finally got the big bag of brown paper bags covered with more than a dozen layers of beige sandpaper inside and out.

At this time, Holmes had already been irritated into a pressure cooker by this group of "romantic" Frenchmen. He kept taking deep breaths, hoping to slowly dissolve his inner irritability and anger.

Unfortunately, it didn’t work out…

“Bonne vie, bon appétit et bonne journée!”

“Fxxk you all down to the hell！”

After cursing out all the curses, Holmes picked up the brown paper bag in front of him and rushed out into the street as if he was escaping.

Behind him, the sound of "Casse-toi" and "Trou de cul" continued, but Holmes laughed and ran faster.

He faced the evening breeze, his cappuccino-colored hair swaying in the breeze.

The deep blue night covered the entire street, and the orange and yellow street lights were like stars, falling on the deep red road sprinkled with icing sugar.

The cars, horses and pedestrians on the street were moving slowly; the stars in the sky and the lights at the corners illuminated the fatigue on both the people's and horses' faces.

This London path, which should have appeared in Monet's paintings, was mistaken by Holmes for a rushing river.

He ran, panting, veins on his forehead bulged, and his soft tongue stuck out from the corner of his mouth.

He ran madly and laughed crazily at the same time. In his eyes, pedestrians were just small trees, and carriages and horses were just stones in front of him.

The evening breeze is cool, but too cool; the road is smooth, but not that smooth; the night is beautiful, but it is the destruction of dusk and the gestation of dawn...

Everything is imperfect, yet so perfect...

He laughed and then cried.

Perhaps it was because of the cool evening breeze, perhaps it was because of the stumbling road, or perhaps it was because of the unbearably dark night.

Or maybe it’s the little things in life, or maybe it’s the elusive hope that seems to have no end in sight…

It was not until Holmes knocked on the door of 221-B Baker Street that he realized he had not yet paid.

He blinked twice and couldn't help but smile twice, thinking that the French guys were right to scold him, but Joshua would have to pay the money tomorrow.

“Is it raining outside?”

Joshua tilted his head in confusion the moment he saw Holmes.

He looked out over Holmes's head, then looked back in confusion at the soupy "big black monster" in front of him.

"I guess the bowl of cream soup was spilled..."

Holmes threw the brown paper bag on the dining table and took off his black coat covered with milky soup with a look of disgust.

"Sorry, I ran over here. The dishes inside must have been messed up by me. Just eat whatever you have..."

"It's okay. I love French food."

Joshua brought over several large plates. He tore open the brown paper bag that was soaked with soup and carefully revealed the mess inside.

The cream of onion soup smelled like milk from a cow that had been dead for a week, but now it was mixed with the smell of a burnt brown paper bag, and it smelled more and more like the sour smell of brown stockings taken off by an old lady who had walked for three days.

Holmes felt sick at the smell and lost his appetite instantly, but what worried him even more were the two ladies who were very picky.

He walked forward and picked at it with his hands, then pointed at the two pieces of butter in the corner with his nose wrinkled:

"That ice cream puff should still be edible..."

"Student Ivy and Mrs. Hudson have gone to bed."

Unfortunately, Joshua interrupted Holmes before he could finish.

"what?"

Holmes was stunned. He had never expected this situation.

At that moment, his heart suddenly calmed down.

"Oh!"

He wiped his red and swollen nose with his fingers and snorted in his throat.

"OK then."

He put his hands on his hips, his wet shirt moving up and down due to his wide open chest.

"I'll take a shower first, you eat, I'm not hungry... I'll take a shower first...

“Mr. Holmes.”

Joshua held the steel fork in his hand and picked out the white chicken from the "mixed vegetable" bit by bit.

"I want to tell you something."

"Tomorrow, no matter what, let's talk about it tomorrow."

Holmes looked extremely tired.

But Joshua kept his head down and refused to give in.

"This matter is very important. It has something to do with Ivy, me, and you."

"Don't tell me. I told you I'm very tired. No matter what, we can talk about it tomorrow."

"Do you still remember the consciousness space that classmate Ivy dropped some time ago?"

"Shut up."

Holmes' tone turned completely cold.

"The owner of that consciousness space is a vampire who has lived for thousands of years."

"Didn't you hear me telling you to shut up?"

"His name is Leon, Lord Leon."

"Fuck! Joshua!"

"boom--"

A gust of black wind whistled towards Holmes.

The incident happened suddenly and Holmes was hit directly in the abdomen by the black wind.

His feet suddenly lost balance, and his whole body flew into the air, crashing quickly into the sofa behind him.

"boom--"

The huge red velvet sofa was knocked against the white wall by Holmes' body, making a loud bang.

"Mmm!"

Holmes groaned and sat on the ground weakly, his internal organs seeming to be shattered into pieces.

"Excuse me, can we have a proper conversation now?"

Joshua's voice came from a distance, revealing mysterious pain in his calm calm.

Holmes' face turned extremely red, and veins popped out on his forehead, beating in sync with his heart.

He parted his lips slightly and reluctantly raised his tired eyes.

When Holmes saw the situation clearly, his face turned pale.

"you……"

Holmes's purple lips trembled slightly, and ripples appeared along with the syllables he uttered.

Joshua stood quietly behind the dining table, his head lowered, his narrow shoulders slightly tilted to one side.

Behind him, a pair of bat-shaped gray-black wings extended from both sides, spanning the entire room.

Holmes could hardly believe his eyes. He thought he was hallucinating, but the pain in his back and the slightly shaking hair proved that it was all real.

"Let's talk about it..."

He compromised.