What exactly was the relationship between Luomiu and Holmes? Even Sherlock wasn't entirely sure.
They had met when they were six, parted ways at fourteen, and hadn't reunited until two years ago in Cambridge. But if there was one thing Sherlock loathed, it was people suggesting the two of them were lovers. Love was a mind-muddling poison, and Sherlock didn't believe for a second that she had swallowed it—she had remained perfectly lucid from start to finish. Furthermore, a detective who fell into an emotional vortex often lost their reason, subsequently missing the clues needed to catch a killer. Sherlock, however, had yet to slip up. No criminal had ever escaped her eyes. Therefore, by logical deduction, Sherlock didn't love Luomiu at all.
Still, no matter how grand the circumstances, one had to sleep. The next day was Monday, a day for the renewal of all things—and the day Sherlock hated most in the world.
"Why on earth does Cambridge University have god-awful 8:00 AM classes?" The woman, her hair a chaotic birds-nest, sat up in bed with a look of pure resentment. She hated two things above all else: Cambridge's 8:00 AMs, and Luomiu, who didn't have to attend them.
But it didn't matter; Luomiu was awake too. Sherlock yanked the duvet off him. "Get up and go back to sleep."
Luomiu opened a pair of bleary eyes and let out a sigh of resignation. "I've always dreamed of a beautiful young woman waking me up gently and tenderly. If that happened, I'd be full of energy even at 6:00 AM."
"Are you implying I'm not beautiful?" Sherlock arched an eyebrow—she was well aware that her looks were nothing short of extraordinary.
"Where's the 'gentle' part?"
"Who told you to be so handsy yesterday?" Sherlock lifted her chin haughtily, letting out a cold, elegant hum of disdain. This lecherous bastard usually let himself be led around by his nether regions the moment he saw her changing clothes, as if he'd never seen a woman before. However, the Great Detective Holmes was magnanimous enough to forgive him. Hmph.
She rose and dressed efficiently, throwing on her overcoat and donning her felt hat. The proud, aloof Sherlock Holmes had arrived. There was only one thing missing: she instinctively reached for a pipe from the dressing table to place in her mouth, but the ghost of nicotine drifting into her senses made her hesitate for several seconds. Ultimately, she shot a glare at the yawning Luomiu and put the pipe back.
"What?" Luomiu asked, bewildered by the look.
"Nothing." Sherlock retracted her gaze. Someone didn't like the smell of nicotine.
"I'm off. I'll notify you if there's any news." She pushed open the door and vanished.
"I'm heading to the warehouse today; just call me there!" Luomiu shouted, though he received no response.
Sherlock was always like a whirlwind. It was time for him to get moving as well. He dressed and headed out. Luomiu's "Shadow Store" was established in London, but for convenience, the headquarters remained in Cambridge, not far from home. Sherlock always wanted to live in London, even though Luomiu didn't care much for the city.
Passing by the church, he heard a priest preaching. A child below suddenly asked, "God is in Heaven, but where is Satan?" A classmate beside him replied smugly, "Satan must be in Hell, educating the bad people."
"No, even if Satan came to Britain, he'd have to deliver food and work like a dog," Luomiu interjected as he walked past, leaving the children with shattered fantasies as he went on his way.
Satan really was delivering food—though today, he was handing out recruitment fliers.
Luomiu ran two types of businesses: selling daily necessities and his own small inventions, with occasional meal deliveries for certain clients. He had recently developed a new product, and once it hit the market, foot traffic was bound to skyrocket, so he really was short-handed. As for what the new product was... Luomiu looked with satisfaction at the "little umbrella" tucked into his wallet. This was a sample he had spent months developing; it was precious, and the possibility of mass production rested entirely on its success.
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My : https://[email protected]/AuAuMon
Stop arresting me, Miss Holmes (40 Chapters, Ongoing)
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He was almost there. Luomiu could just make out the red bell tower that served as the headquarters for the Shadow Store. However, life always has its little surprises.
"You filthy thief!" an indignant voice cried out.
Luomiu looked over to see three students cornering someone in an alleyway.
"I... no..." He heard a snippet of broken English in a pitiful female voice. Driven by curiosity, Luomiu stepped forward to investigate. He saw a girl huddled in the corner, appearing to be around sixteen. Her outfit was one he knew all too well—a rustic, bright red padded cotton jacket that looked completely out of place in this era, paired with a somewhat messy high ponytail.
An Oriental.
Luomiu locked eyes with the dark iris peeking through the gaps in her hair. "What's going on here?"
"No, no, sir, it's not what it looks like," a blonde student stammered, waving his hands before glaring fiercely at the girl. "She stole my wallet!"
Luomiu looked the three sturdy students up and down. "Did she steal it right in front of you?"
The blonde student looked a bit guilty. "Yes, sir. Because she's an Oriental... I believe a British gentleman wouldn't do such a despicable thing..."
"So, you're a first-year at St. Martin's College? Tomorrow, I'll be sure to tell your parents that their son is making baseless accusations against others," Luomiu said with a smile and a wave of his hand. "What do you think of that?"
The blonde's expression changed instantly. He grabbed his companions and beat a hasty retreat.
Luomiu didn't bother rebuking the boy's comments; such was the nature of the era. But he could at least change what he saw with his own eyes.
"Can I help you?" He offered a kind smile and reached out a hand to the young girl. But she didn't take it. Instead, she suddenly leaped up and barreled into Luomiu, knocking him aside before sprinting away without looking back, like a startled hedgehog.
"Am I that scary?" Jostled and a bit dazed, Luomiu felt a twinge of gloom. Fine, poor kid.
Luomiu continued toward the warehouse. Standing before the iron gates, he reached into his pocket for his wallet to get his keys.
...Where was his wallet?
Luomiu patted himself down, his expression going blank. Wait, where's my wallet?
"No, sir, she just bumped into me, and then my wallet was gone." Luomiu recalled the words the blonde student had said just moments ago.
"Are you kidding me..." Luomiu sighed toward the heavens. "You could have at least left me the umbrella."