At the same moment, there was another person troubled by the concept of "love."
"Oh, great, sweet love~"
Early morning, in a villa located on London's Pall Mall Street, an extremely theatrical exclamation suddenly rang out.
Of course, the tone wasn't particularly friendly, even carrying some inexplicable sarcastic undertones.
On the eve of the official engagement, having witnessed a certain older brother tirelessly trying on several sets of formal wear like a peacock displaying its feathers, and especially carefully putting on a sapphire-embedded cufflink—an accessory that perfectly matched a certain lady's aesthetic preferences.
The deliberately styled hair, the clearly meticulously arranged collar, and the faint lingering fragrance of incense in the room.
Every part of him exuded the cloying sweetness of being in love.
God, please don't tell him this was Mycroft...
On the sofa, a certain great detective couldn't help but roll his eyes in a particularly ungraceful manner, especially when he saw the familiar London Morning Post beside him with an article that occupied almost half the page.
She was a tragic orphan whose wealth had been seized by her own uncle and who had nearly lost her life, her experiences moving countless readers to tears. For various reasons related to personal safety, she currently had to stay close to the upright Detective Carl.
Because their interactions were noticeably frequent in the early stages, and Miss Deresse, being particularly sensitive due to her dependent situation and fearing eviction, not only voluntarily took on a series of tasks like brewing tea, making delicious desserts, and organizing documents, but their daily interactions gradually developed a tacit understanding...
As a great detective possessing both first-class intellect and appearance, although Detective Carl was constantly surrounded by admirers, as the first lady to get this close to him—and a great beauty at that—some readers couldn't help but speculate.
Was this perhaps the emergence of Detective Carl's romantic interest?
And each theory was presented with convincing details, various clues continuously emerging, shining brightly across major newspapers. Even in Sherlock's fencing club, quite a few people were discussing this matter.
This proved that gossip was indeed human nature.
Romantic interests. If this were before, faced with interesting deductions, Sherlock naturally wouldn't have spared them even half a glance.
He wouldn't even have thought about them.
But now, having directly witnessed his unfortunate older brother—a Holmes's complete "degeneration" in matters of love—the seventeen-year-old great detective Sherlock sincerely expressed his utter rejection of so-called "romantic interests."
He even specifically expressed his refusal in a letter to his pen pal "Mr. Rosente."
"Believe me, dear Mr. Rosente, as of now, Detective Carl's life is already perfectly complete, with absolutely no need to add meaningless complications."
Because their interactions were noticeably frequent in the early stages, and Miss Deresse, being particularly sensitive due to her dependent situation and fearing eviction, not only voluntarily took on a series of tasks like brewing tea, making delicious desserts, and organizing documents, but their daily interactions gradually developed a tacit understanding...
"Of course, if you, like a certain older brother of mine, have already sunk irrecoverably into the river of love, then maintaining a clear mind at all times will be the only advice and blessing your friend can offer you..."
An Ning, who was trying on engagement dresses at that moment: "........."
This guy even attributed her recent reduction in puzzle difficulty to "being in love"—An Ning was truly impressed!
"Darling, because of your brother's precedent, Sherlock seems to have developed a rather negative impression of 'love' and even marriage."
Ah, this... might this not be so good!
The day before the engagement, An Ning's conscience inevitably ached just a little bit, as she hesitantly said to a certain unfortunate older brother beside her.
Of course, this was provided one ignored his obviously sparkling, star-like shining azure blue eyes.
Not far away, Mycroft, who witnessed this scene, twitched at the corner of his mouth.
His gaze paused for a moment on his fiancée's particularly enthusiastic little face.
Oh, interesting, bright, vivid, and full of vitality! As if existing on another completely incompatible shore from absolute intellectual rationality.
Even her smile carried the brightness of spring breeze and morning dew.
At this moment, even Mycroft had to admit that in their numerous previous encounters, Sherly had still failed to effectively uncover her disguise—he really hadn't lost unjustly:
"Don't worry, darling, believe me, Sherly has always had quite good resilience against unexpected shocks."
Quietly pushing the small cake beside him further away, Mycroft declared confidently at that time.
In the small courtyard blooming with wisteria, under the warm spring sunlight, this engaged couple about to enter marriage once again exchanged smiles.
One wearing a moon-white long dress, radiating liveliness and brightness like a young girl; opposite her, a gentleman profound with dignified steadiness. Despite their completely contrasting temperaments, they appeared particularly harmonious in this moment.
After hurriedly sending the letter to his pen pal "Mr. Rosente," when Sherlock returned, this was the scene that greeted him.
Why did he inexplicably feel they looked somewhat matched just now!
He could swear he hadn't used any variety of hallucinogens just now...