[Zhongyingmei] That snake

Sherlock was huddled in his large and comfortable leather sofa, his hands crossed in a tower shape on his chin, his gray-blue eyes rolling with Oliver's footsteps.

Oliver paced the wool carpet at 221b Baker Street over and over again.The team members are all here, and the air is so silent that there are only dust and fluff flying in the sun.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Oliver stopped and asked Sherlock hesitantly.

"Of course, very sure." Sherlock's pronunciation always had a nasal sound, "Are you scared?"

"I've always felt that I'm an honest person, so the answer is, yes," Oliver breathed out, "but now I seem to have only one choice."

"Then, let's begin."

Oliver pressed his forehead, grabbed the windbreaker expressionlessly and rushed downstairs.

He took big steps, and before he was fully dressed, he opened the door of 221b and rushed into the snow.

Mrs. Hudson came out of her room when she heard the noise, leaned on the railing and raised her head in doubt and asked Sherlock who was also rushing downstairs: "What's wrong with him?"

"Warm-up exercise." Sherlock raised the corners of his mouth, and a spark of interest flashed in his eyes, "Mrs. Hudson. I messed up the refrigerator, remember to clean it up."

"Hey, Sherlock!" Mrs. Hudson grumbled, watching a group of people leave her house.

The snow began to fall at noon, and a shallow layer was piled up. The footprints melted the ice and snow on the surface, and the color of the stone bricks looked a little gray through the snow layer.

Oliver put on his coat and didn't bother to button it. He stood outside the SUV door and pulled the door handle out. After a lot of effort, he realized that he hadn't brought the car keys with him. He slammed on the door hard Kicked.

Hotch quickly followed, took the car key and opened the back seat door, Oliver's hand was ripped from the front door by him, and he threw Oliver into the back seat, and said sharply, "You need to calm down, want to Think about what you are doing!"

"What am I doing?" Oliver rolled his eyes and turned them away, refusing to face Hotch. "I'm doing better than you."

Hotch sat in the driver's seat and pulled the door open. The loud noise shook the windows, and the sound stimulated Oliver's physiological defensive instincts. He arched his back in a posture of resistance.

Hotch glanced at the person in the rearview mirror, and didn't say another word, letting the stiff atmosphere in the air continue to spread.

The team members didn't dare to provoke the angry boss, so they could only look at each other, squeezed into the SUV and drove to Scotland Yard together.

Oliver huddled himself into a ball on the back seat, preferring to look at the light blurred by the water droplets outside the window, rather than turn his head away.

221b is not far from Scotland Yard. When the suv just started to slow down and stopped, Oliver opened the door first, jumped out of the car, and rushed into the police station.

The cold winter wind blows on the face, which can easily turn the thin skin on the face into blood red. Oliver slammed himself into the heating room, and the clang of the leather heels hitting the ground made people even more disturbed. The footsteps are also messed up.

There were more complicated footsteps behind him, and those people followed.

The door of the conference room was ajar, but the lights were not turned on. Oliver kicked the door open and vented the frustration of opening the door.

He tried to close the door with his backhand, but was blocked by Morgan, "Fuck!"

Morgan leaned his elbows against the door, his bushy black eyebrows furrowed. "Dude, you can't do that."

Oliver was so angry that his hands almost trembled. He couldn't stop Morgan's movement to open the door, so he could only contemptuously say, "Heh."Then gave up control of the door.

Morgan exerted too much force and didn't expect Oliver to let go directly, so he threw himself into the office in the direction of force.

And Oliver walked towards the meeting without looking back, picked a swivel chair and sat down in a big way, with his ankle folded on the knee of the other leg.

Prentiss, who followed, gasped and helped Morgan up, "Are you okay?"

"Not at all," Morgan snapped. "Oliver, you know this is wrong."

"Hmph," Oliver snorted coldly, turned the swivel chair to face the two of them, closed his eyes, and couldn't understand his emotions.

Hotch walked in and smashed a thick stack of documents in his hand on the table. Oliver was startled by the sound, squinted at the person opposite, and gasped heavily.

"Oh, look, everyone is here." Sherlock's familiar beating voice sounded in the empty conference room, and now it was especially harsh, "Our Mr. Williams is furious."

"If you don't speak, no one will think you are dumb." Oliver stood up abruptly, and cursed back mercilessly.

"Oh, you're scared, that's funny." Sherlock, grinning as usual, a smile that should have been charming, but now it's out of place, "What are you doing? Extreme opinions, prejudices, psychological distortions, reactions Sociopaths, don't be afraid of that, me too, high functioning sociopath. I'm not like you though, you're just a goldfish."

"You fucking shut up!" Oliver grabbed the glass on the table and hit Sherlock's feet, the sharp fragments splashed everywhere, and the brown coffee stained the carpet even more deeply and desperately.

"You think you have a high IQ, so you can say whatever you want? You're just a lunatic, conceited and indifferent. I'm really curious, why did John choose you as a bad cohabitant?"

"Ha, when it comes to IQ, and you, Spencer Reid." Oliver sneered and shifted the fire, pressing a piece of A4 paper under his palm, and now the paper has been squeezed into a crumpled ball by him In the palm of his hand, the knuckles were as white as bleached paper, "Do you think that being as tall as your IQ is a great thing, something that no one can match, that no one can surpass? You are as arrogant as Sherlock, Show off yourself with knowledge. Let me tell you, I let others surpass you anytime and anywhere. IQ, EQ, and force all belong to weak human beings. And you are the weaker one among human beings."

Reid's face was flushed, and he was at a loss as he grabbed the hem of his clothes with his fingers. He didn't know how to answer, so he had to turn his eyes to Morgan for help.

"Stop that pleading look of yours, it makes me sad. Look at that thing on your waist, waiting for someone to grab your weapon? What qualifications do you have to be a field agent, or do you have What qualifications to join the FBI, even the most basic test can not pass."

"Now it's your turn, Derek Morgan." Oliver turned his head, looking straight into Morgan's chest, which invisibly made the atmosphere more oppressive and intense, "Do you think you are powerful? No, you never were. Then Don't look at others with that pitiful, sympathetic, disgusting gaze, saying that you have to protect others, who you can protect, you can't save anyone."

"Oliver, don't be like this." Prentiss tried to persuade, but now Oliver's whole body is like a giant storage place for fireworks, which will explode at any moment.

"Shut up, did I allow you to speak? Emily Prentiss. You know what? What I hate the most in my life is you who get everything by relying on your parents and power."

"I didn't!" Emily argued.

"Don't tell me this, you know it in your heart, you and Strauss both know it, don't put on the stinky face of a wronged victim."

"D□□idRossi." The series of venting did not calm Oliver down, but escalated his anger, his eyes were already red.

"Oliver, stop, we're a team, we're not fighting each other."

"Oh, the team. Thank you for remembering that we are a team," Oliver smiled mockingly, the bloodshot eyes and the unnatural blood color on his face made him seem to be in a state of confusion. In a state of insanity, his contemptuous and highly emotional voice added to the sensory stimulation, "Have you ever calculated how much time and opportunity we have missed to save the victims because of your arbitrariness and distrust. Your experience is obsolete, you are obsolete, and you will soon be forgotten by the public, who will burn your books, tear them up, and spill them into the gutter."

Oliver's mouth is beeping like a machine gun, and occasionally someone can jump in and argue, but you can't find a space to completely refute him or calm his emotions.

Kate was still relatively calm, not infected by the burning anger in the air, she just walked to Oliver's side worriedly, took his arm, and softly comforted, "Oliver, don't do this. You know it's not your fault, Not their fault."

Oliver pulled his arm out, his movements were large, and he was not in the mood to pay attention to other people's situation now.If Hotch hadn't supported Kate from behind and she was still wearing high heels, Kate would probably have fallen to the ground like Morgan.

"Shut your mouth, son of a bitch, who do you think you are? It doesn't matter if you don't care about the blood relationship. What right do you have to order me with this attitude?"

"Oliver Williams!" Hotch shouted.

If Oliver just cursed a few times in anger, all this might calm down, but once he started to fight, things would be difficult to solve.

Oliver stopped his movements for a moment, and the expression on his face instantly collapsed. There was an imperceptible moistness on the bloodshot dry eyeballs, but it disappeared soon.

Hotch strode forward, grabbing Oliver's shirt across the front with both hands, trying to push him against the wall and hold him.

But Oliver's reaction was faster than anyone expected. He bent his knees against Hotch's abdomen. Hotch groaned in pain and bent down instinctively, unable to control Oliver's arms anymore.He took this opportunity to swing his left fist directly into Hotch's face.

Just before Hotch fell to the ground, Oliver picked him up by his collar and pushed him mercilessly onto the conference table.

Oliver leaned forward, closing the distance between the two of them, but it wasn't the warmth it used to be, and Hotch felt the alarm bells ringing in his heart, and he sensed the imminent danger.

"Do you think you're any better than them? No, you're worse than them. Terrible. Self-centered, paranoid, inhuman, stubborn. You always think yours is the best, but You are not at all." The last sentence was almost every word that Oliver gritted his teeth out of.

"I admit my shortcomings." Panting heavily, Hotch raised his hand and grabbed Oliver's tie, pulling him closer, "So what do you think about yourself now?"

"You are crazy, stubborn, desperate to get your way, cowardly, dependent on privilege, obsessed with power, and disdainful of life, whether it be other people's or your own. Do you think you are a good person?"

Oliver's fingers tightened with each word, nails dug into the flesh of the palm, blood soaking Hotch's white shirt, "I'm not like you guys, mankind."

He almost took the last breath out of his narrowing throat to finish the sentence, and he tried to turn away, but Hotch grabbed his tie, and the restraint around his neck was almost suffocating.

The tie was caught, okay, then tear it off, the sound of the fabric breaking was extremely loud, and Oliver, who was no longer restrained, threw the person he was holding onto the ground, kicked away the glass shards in the middle of the road, and walked away.

Hotch curled up coughing, stood up with difficulty, and looked at the figure that quickly disappeared.

"What are you doing here?" Oliver had already walked out of Scotland Yard, confronting Sherlock who ran out first on the street.

"Why can't I follow, or where are you going?"

"It's none of your business."

"I feel I need to know about this, given that..."

"Shut up!" Oliver couldn't bear it any longer, pulled out the pistol from the holster on his waist, and pointed the black aim at Sherlock, the sound of the pistol being loaded was like a sudden rush of bells in the wind.

"If you want to shoot, shoot." Sherlock put his hands in his pockets.

"Do you think I dare not?"

BOOM——

"Never."

The gunshot and Sherlock's answer sounded at the same time, and the blood on the left chest was also splashing out in Oliver's eyes like a slow-motion replay at this moment. He could see the vibration of the flesh and blood, and saw the big blood dripping on the snow. , The scorching temperature dissolved a dent in the snow layer, and the red liquid flowed along the gaps between the ice crystals, spread out, and even mist.

Sherlock staggered and fell, falling flat on his back.

Oliver's lake-like eyes were full of gunpowder smoke, and his pupils shrank sharply.It wasn't his intention to shoot, but he really couldn't help himself.

Putting the gun back in the holster, he rushed to kneel beside Sherlock, blood still bubbling from the hole in his left chest, soaking Sherlock's black woolen coat.

Sherlock was twitching all over, even rolling his eyes for biological reasons.

"No, nono, don't do that. Sherlock Holmes, wake up." Oliver patted his cheek with trembling hands, but it was all useless, his body temperature was still hot, but the snowflakes were bitingly cold.

A gunshot also caused commotion in the police station. Oliver glanced at the gate of Scotland Yard, gritted his teeth and ignored Sherlock who was lying on the ground. galloped away in the roar.

He didn't wear a helmet, and his long wheat-blond hair was messed up in the wind, just like the mess in his heart right now.

He had absolutely no idea where to go, what direction to go, and just subconsciously headed for places with fewer cars, and even then he almost caused a few crashes.

Until on a deserted street, a car with bright lights on was running towards him. Oliver tried to avoid it, but the car didn't think so. He even accelerated and crashed into Oliver.

In the chaos, Oliver only had violent explosions, the flipped sky and ground, as well as the dazzling fire and intense white lights in Oliver's memory.

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On the other hand, shortly after Sherlock was shot, the police officers in the police station rushed out and called the emergency number for him.

The ambulance arrived very quickly, and a small doctor lifted him into the ambulance very skillfully by himself.

Watching the ambulance roar away with lights flashing, Lestrade looked helplessly at the BAU team around him. He was worried about Sherlock, but that was all he could do now.

"Is your injury okay? Do you need to go to the hospital?" Lestrade looked at the wound on Hotch's face, Oliver's punch really hit Hotch's face, leaving no water at all, leaving two bruises on his chin Road scratches.

"No problem." Hotch turned his head to look at the police officers who returned to the police station in twos and threes.

There was only a pool of red blood on the ground, which was so bright that it was dazzling.

When the police officers had almost returned and there were no pedestrians on the street, Hotch passed the note in his hand to the team members.

"Oliver left it in the collar of my suit." Hotch was a little dumbfounded.

What was written on the note was - I'm really sorry, and I will invite everyone to have a meal and apologize after the matter is over.

"If it wasn't for a big meal, I would never forgive the kid." Morgan muttered.

And Hotch pondered, should Oliver trim his too sharp nails?The last time he was scratched by Oliver was bleeding, it seemed not so long ago, the wound was on his back.

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on the ambulance.

The driver sat in the driver's seat wearing a pair of sunglasses, driving the car expressionlessly.

In the carriage, Molly worriedly searched for things like gauze, tweezers, and medicines. It took twice as long as usual to find all the things she needed and walked to the hospital bed.

Another short doctor who was also wearing a white coat in front of the bed took off his mask, and it was John.

"Oh, Molly, thank you," John took the pile of things that Molly brought over, hugged him, and tossed it into a box beside him.

"This..." Molly looked at John's behavior in bewilderment.

"Sherlock is fine and doesn't need these things." John knocked on the edge of the iron hospital bed and cleared his throat, "Sherlock, it's time to get up."

The person on the bed was silent.

Molly turned her head to look at John, which made John a little uneasy.

Until the person on the bed suddenly sat up, as if cheating a corpse.

"It's amazing." John never expected that word to come out of Sherlock's mouth.

"Oh." Molly couldn't help covering her mouth and exclaimed, "Are you okay?"

"Of course." Sherlock showed a charming smile, "I feel energetic now and need ten eight-star cases for me to solve."

"But you..." Molly looked at the holes in Sherlock's coat, which were literally bullet marks.

Sherlock quite naturally pulled out a deflated blood bag and a bullet still stained with blood from the inside of his suit.

"Where are we going now?" said the driver wearing sunglasses, this is Anderson, because he was exposed in advance so he can still maintain a deadpan expression.

"The ICU, or the morgue, it's your choice." Sherlock jumped out of bed.

"Give me my computer and let me see, where is Williams now?"

"It's all ready for you." John pointed to the computer displaying a map beside him, a red dot was moving rapidly on the map.

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Now, let's move the pointer forward a little.

In the fast food restaurant, Moriaty watched Oliver, expecting his answer.

Oliver was looking at Moriaty intently at this moment, the color of the shiny lip gloss, which was originally light pink, gradually deepened, turning into a purplish plum red.

Color changing lipstick? Oliver guessed, he shook his head in his heart, and stopped his divergent thinking, now is not the time to study this.

"I'm just a small person, unlike you, I can't do anything now, how can I help?"

"You can, do you often talk about the target type in your profile? You fit enough," Moriaty smiled sweetly, "If you don't completely reject it, I think we can have a good talk about this issue."

Moriaty stood up and moved to the chair on Oliver's right, and even leaned himself against the arm of the chair, reaching out to wrap his arms around Oliver's.

Holy shit, Moriaty had silicone boobs, and Oliver felt the weird elasticity.

This made Oliver withdraw his hand in horror, leaning his stool against the window away from Moriaty.

Moriaty tilted her head in doubt, and blinked her big caramel-colored eyes. The shiny golden eye shadow on the upper eyelids made this action look more mature and charming.

Oliver rejected the adjective that popped into his mind.

"I won't eat you again." Moriaty rested her arms on the arm of the chair and rested her head on it, looking up at Oliver.

Oliver took a deep breath, "What do you want me to do?"

"I know, you'll say yes." He narrowed his eyes and smiled, "I don't want those jumping around. The little bugs interrupt my game with Sherlock. I've arranged everything, you just have to go. "

"I didn't say I took it." No kidding, team up with a European crime boss, he's an upstanding American agent, thank you.

And the fact that it could annoy Moriaty was proof enough of its danger.Why did he insist on lending his own hand? Isn't Moriaty's power in the underworld enough to take down his rivals?

Moriaty hung her head, thoughtful.

Hotch just went out to see where Oliver bought his lunch. As a result, what he saw through the floor-to-ceiling glass of the fast food restaurant was Oliver huddled in the corner of a chair like a squirrel, and there was a chair opposite him. Cute girl, what are you talking to him with a smile?

But Oliver's expression doesn't match his body language.

Hotch's heart sank, and he walked over quickly and pushed open the door of the fast food restaurant. The two men in suits standing at the door made him frown, but they didn't stop Hotch after a glance.

Moriaty moved the chair and wanted to lean forward, but Oliver stretched out his foot against the chair leg.He caught a glimpse of Hotch out of the corner of his eye and couldn't help calling out to him, "Aaron, save me."

It wasn't heartbreaking, but Hotch made sure he heard the grievances.

"The lady..." Hotch came up behind Moriaty.

"Good afternoon, sir." Moriaty looked up at Hotch with a big smile on his face.

Hotch looked at his Adam's apple, and was silent for a while, "Sir, if there is nothing else, I will take my lover away first."

Moriaty frowned, "That's a pity then."

But he didn't stop Hotch from leading Oliver out, he just said, "You will agree."

Oliver just wants to get out of this place quickly now, with the paper bag of food.

"Who is he?" Hotch asked curiously.

"Jim Moriaty, Professor in London." Oliver squeezed Hotch's hand tightly.

"What did he do for you?"

"He said he wanted me to help him, but." Before Oliver finished speaking, he suddenly felt a malice in the air directed at himself and the people around him.

The suppressed mutant ability exploded all of a sudden. He keenly followed the source of the malice. It was a residential building. He couldn't see anything, but one thing proved his conjecture.

The first infrared aiming point was wandering over Hotch's body.

"Aaron, get down!" Oliver didn't care too much, and directly pressed Hotch and rushed into the alley beside him, using the corner of the wall as a cover.The hamburgers and donuts in the paper bag fell uncontrollably on the ground, rolling in a circle of dust.

Two bullets exploded where the two had just stood.

Hotch and Oliver quickly drew their guns and looked out cautiously. Oliver's eyes were fixed on the residential building, but the malice disappeared, and the sniper had already retreated after missing a shot.

He subconsciously thought it was Moriaty's arrangement, but when he looked back at the fast food restaurant, there was also a shooting there.

Oliver saw Moriaty's orange-red skirt hide in the car, and the car's bulletproof glass blocked him from the bullets, but one of his men was shot in the body.

The personnel in another vehicle belonging to Moriaty who followed quickly loaded the body of the subordinate into the vehicle and took it away.

"Not from Moriaty." Oliver walked over to pick up the bullet just now. "I have never seen this type of bullet. It should not be a conventional weapon in the country or on the market."

"Go back to the police station first."

"I heard the gunshot just now." Rossi came over and noticed the dust on the two of them, "What happened?"

"A sniper," Hotch said, "targeted me and Oliver and Moriaty, probably the group behind the case."

After Oliver walked into the office, he didn't have time to wipe off the dust on his suit. Instead, he walked around the office vigilantly and found a small piece of metal from under the table.

Rossi looked at him suspiciously, Oliver pursed his lips, took out a pen and paper and began to write.

"Bug, I don't remember when I left. Did someone come in just now?"

"Maybe." Rossi took the pen. "Everyone went out to eat, and no one noticed what's going on here."

"Let me see." Sherlock came from behind and took the bug with his arm over Oliver's shoulder.

"Another one." John had a normal look on his face.

"No, wait." Sherlock narrowed his eyes and took the pen and paper from Rossi's hand, "This bug is not the type that Mycroft or Moriaty would use, and I have never seen this type of bug in the world." device flow."

Hotch and Oliver looked at each other, "Is there anything else?"

"A lot."

"Mr. Holmes, can you find us a place to avoid these things?" Hotch asked.

Sherlock wrote an address on the paper, 221b Baker Street.