Chapter 33
1691 Words
Sherlock Holmes' gaze, like gamma rays, swept over Margaret for a week.
His gray, jeweled eyes, which seemed to glitter with an icy light, were now fixed on her with an expressionless face.
Then, an unusually false smile spread across the counselor's face very quickly.
Margaret heard a dash of the gorgeous low British public school standard, with a hint of malice, "Look what I found, a stupid goldfish from France."
Thoughts flashed instantly through Margaret's mind-she had recognized the wrong person.
While Strange always looked like he was unhappy and that anyone owed him five million dollars, he was obviously no more beaten than the dark-haired curly-haired man in front of him-
His pale face was aloof, withdrawn, and self-important to the point of arrogance.
And really, the curly brunette looked a lot younger than Grumpy Kiki.
Uh looks more beautiful?
Margaret took a step back, her voice polite and cold, "I'm sorry, I mistook you for someone else, have a nice day, Mr. Sharma from England."
The Shire Horse, the world's noblest harness horse, a traditional English stallion.
Sherlock frowned for a moment, then smiled an unusually beatific-looking smile, "Stupid goldfish with a sharp tongue-"
He leaned in close to the dark-haired classical beauty, his voice devoid of any warmth but speaking very quickly, "Your left ankle is recovering nicely, although it formed a partial fiber tear in the ligament four weeks ago due to an inversion sprain."
"With such a quick level of recovery, it would have required at least daily massage therapy to get to the point where you're walking like a normal person now, so it seems you have a good personal physician."
He then added, "When you just recognized me by mistake, your attitude and standing posture were familiar and cordial, but did not contain ambiguous emotions, somewhere between a friend and a partner, and through a series of subtle manifestations of your facial expression, it indicates that you have been meeting with him on a daily basis lately."
Sherlock arrogantly concludes, "There is an 87.43% chance that the man who resembles me in appearance is the personal physician."
Margaret subconsciously blinked.
The voice of the consulting detective with the tawdry natural curls sneered, "Don't get any ideas, goldfish girl."
Sherlock looked extraordinarily beaten up, "In the minutiae of how much your pupils dilate, the look of your breathing, etc., I've long since deduced the correct conclusions through formulas that you usually can't comprehend as a dumb goldfish."
"I'm sorry-" Margaret interrupted with a raised hand, "My personal physician, Dr. Strange, is a public figure in his own right, and it's not unusual for you to know his appearance."
"And the fact that I sprained my ankle was a major newspaper news hit a few weeks ago," Margaret looked at him a little sympathetically, "it's pretty much all over L.A. It's a pretty poor show you're putting on."
Sherlock Holmes, the genius detective who was never interested in following Hollywood stars: "......"
He stared at the face of the classical beauty for zero-point-one-three seconds before spotting a couple of stories related to her from a couple of newspapers in the attic garbage can of his vast palace of thought -
"At nineteen years of age, she has won an Oscar, a Cesar, and a Golden Globe, and is the youngest actress ever to win a movie, Margaret Ajani."
"The eternal Rose of France, Adjani, whose beauty is thrilling."
"Adjani: she has the most beautiful and melancholic blue eyes in the world."
The cool-headed, observant, highly deductive detective with considerable skill in swordplay, boxing and violin playing, and a sexy brain that could literally mesmerize the world with his consulting detective: how dare this stupid goldfish say he's got a lot of drama?
Sherlock gritted his teeth, "My brain has no room for boring news and has to clear this useless stuff out from time to time."
Margaret shrugged her shoulders, "You really do make ignorance sound refreshing."
Sherlock: ignorance?!!!
"I specialize in deductive reasoning and footwork tracking, and am familiar with a sophisticated knowledge of medicine, chemistry, physics, and anatomy, as well as a legal knowledge you can hardly imagine." The consulting detective with a head of natural curls spoke at a surprisingly fast pace.
Margaret's voice was cold, "Oh, what's that got to do with me."
Sherlock: how can this woman be so vicious?
"Goodbye, Mr. Natural Roll." Margaret waved her hand perfunctorily, ready to turn away before the words left her mouth.
However, her wrist was tugged by the other party without warning.
His palm was a little cool, and his pale, slender fingers were like marble, holding her wrist firmly.
Due to this position, the faggot purple shirt on Sherlock that was two sizes too small became a little tight, showing off the lines of his charming pecs.
Lean and heady.
His gorgeous bass rumbled, "Where do you want to go?"
Sherlock clearly wasn't up for some damn medical forum with a dinner party, it was more fun to bend the brunette in front of him over than those stupid goldfish.
Margaret raised an eyebrow, "Are you prepared to travel with me?"
Sherlock's gray jewel-like eyes fixed on her, "Before you apologize to me for that 'ignorance'."
The rose like dainty beauty shrugged her shoulders, "As you wish, but I'm going to Disneyland, are you sure you want to follow?"
World's Greatest Consulting Detective: What the hell kind of routine is she pulling here?
Sherlock's hatred of Mycroft peaks when, in a smart suit, he walks into the world's second-largest amusement park complex - the
If he hadn't been tricked into coming to L.A., he wouldn't have met this unorthodox, stupid goldfish.
If he hadn't met this stupid goldfish, he wouldn't have somehow walked into Disneyland.
In July 1955, Walt Disney, the master of American animation, founded this themed amusement park near Los Angeles, the world's first Disneyland.
Walking down Central Avenue with its elegant old horse-drawn carriages, quaint stores, and restaurant tearooms, Sherlock's voice was icy, "You're simply a stupid goldfish with a mental developmental disorder."
Margaret ignored his irrational remarks and cast her eyes over the beautiful castle.
The Disney castle was modeled after Neuschwanstein Castle in Germany, and the scenery all the way around was reminiscent of the old days of magic, kings, and knights.
By now it was 9pm and Disney's grand finale fireworks display was about to begin.
Staff dressed as Mickey Mouse, Donald Duck, Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs are looking around to make sure it's safe, and from time to time they tell visitors to lower the Mickey Mouse balloons in the air.
Margaret didn't bother to grab a good viewing spot, she ignored Curly at her side the whole time, and was about to walk into the sweet store not far away to buy an iced coffee.
Just based on the change in her sight and breathing, Sherlock already knew what she was thinking.
He arrogantly gave the order, "Two sugars."
Unexpectedly, Margaret didn't refuse, but instead gave him a thoughtful look.
Inexplicably, Sherlock suddenly felt a little cold at his back.
Inside the dessert store, Mickey muffins and all kinds of cartoon breads were popular products, and by the way, all kinds of sweet and cute hair bows, the sales were also very good.
Margarita, who had just eaten a cheeseburger not too long ago, didn't have the guts to eat a lot of desserts, and her stylist would have blown a gasket.
That arrogant Mr. Holmes, though, didn't seem to have eaten his dinner yet.
It was nine o'clock in the evening, and with it being past the summer vacation period, the dessert store wasn't too crowded, and Margaret, with her sunglasses on, wasn't recognized.
In fact even if she was accidentally seen, no one would probably believe that she would come to Disneyland.
Even though Margo was still under twenty, it seemed that everyone viewed her as a teenage, mature woman-
talented and strong and independent.
She doesn't really go well with dreamy, childlike Disney.
But Margo always likes to do things that other people don't expect, doesn't she?
After a few minutes, the colors of the castle behind Sherlock were changing with the beams of light as the beautiful fireworks display officially began.
The waiting curly-haired consulting detective was already getting a little annoyed when he finally saw the dark-haired beauty walk out of the sweet store.
She was clutching a kraft paper bag in her hand, while her other hand was behind her back.
Margo shoved the paper bag directly into Sherlock's arms, and he subconsciously looked down to see what was inside-
In addition to two iced coffees, there was quite a bit of filling food; muffins, bread, freshly baked hot dogs with cheese.
There certainly isn't much in the way of decent dinners in the dessert store, and this has been the store's most popular filler.
Inexplicably, Sherlock suddenly felt that the woman in front of him wasn't too evil, even though the junk food wasn't his favorite.
He was about to forgive her for her previous offense in a big way, when in the next second, something was put on his head.
Sherlock touched it incredulously-
A cat-eared hairband!
The sparkling fireworks sent Disneyland into cheers, rising and falling as they went off.
The night sky seems to be on fire, the bright flames after the ultimate bloom behind the fairy tale castle, everything is as beautiful as a dream.
And the delicate classical beauty, is touching her chin and nodding, looks very agreeable satisfied look, "Sure enough or pink color is suitable."
Five minutes later, far away on the banks of the Thames in London, in the Cabinet Office of the Palace of Westminster, Mycroft-British-Government-Holmes, received from his lackeys, the latest surveillance images of the consulting detectives -
Sherlock Holmes, wearing a pink, fluffy cat-eared hair band on his head, looked incredulously at the man in front of him.
And the classic beauty with the perfect side face stroked the top of his head like she was smoothing her pet's fur.
UK Government: "......"
- Writer
