Lynn doesn't speak

Calling Lestrade to ask him to claim the murderer, taking advantage of Scotland Yard's arrival, Sherlock observed Lynn from beginning to end.

His eyes skipped over the heavy shadows under his eyes, moved down to his obviously thin waist, and paused on his slightly bright red trousers.The great detective lowered his eyes, thinking clearly, but rarely said anything.He just stood there, watching him and Watson inspect the murderer's equipment with a serious and dignified profile.

"Should be a professionally trained killer."

A whole handful of bullets were found from his pocket, as well as several extremely powerful hands.Lei probably came here with the idea of ​​letting them die here.John took a deep breath with some fear. He couldn't imagine how serious the consequences would be if Lynn didn't show up.

And Lynn observed a little more than he did.

The cocoon holding the gun in the palm of the hand, the wound cut by the sharp knife on the hand, the muscles full of explosive power, and——

Get familiar with skull tattoos.

His eyes became sharper in an instant.He calmly pulled down the man's sleeve, covering the hideous blue mark on his right arm, without making a sound, but frowned slightly.

The hand is stretched too far, Hydra.

It is simply an industry cancer in the villain world.

Watching the man being carried away by Scotland Yard in a coma, Lynn silently rolled his eyes.Although it is certain that they did not come to look for him, since London also has their dark lines, it is only a matter of time before they find themselves here.

However, there is still time.

Shaking his head, he no longer allowed himself to think about this terrible thing.He followed Sherlock and John into 221b, and after greeting the landlady, he sat down on the only single sofa in the living room very familiarly.

"That's my sofa."

As soon as he turned around from the door, he found that his seat had been taken.With one long leg, Sherlock walked up to Lynn in two or three steps, and shook the bench facing the two sofas in dissatisfaction: "This is where you should sit."

"But isn't that the position of your client?" Lin En let out a sigh after slumping on the sofa, "I didn't come to you to handle the case."

"Then you can sit on the opposite side." Sherlock was still very dissatisfied.

"Oh no, the seat opposite belongs to your boyfriend, I can't occupy it without permission."

"Hey." Making coffee for three people in the kitchen, John poked his head out when he heard this: "Again, I'm not his boyfriend."

"Not now, it will be sooner or later." With a wave of his hand, he didn't think this problem was a problem at all, Lynn was very decisive.

John: ...

Today, some people thought that I was having an affair with my roommate.What to do, urgent, wait online _: ('_'"∠): _.

"But how do you know which is my sofa?"

Walking out of the kitchen with three teacups in hand, he looked curiously at the two people who were still staring at each other in the living room.

"It told me." He replied casually.Lynn took his coffee, took a sip, and found that it tasted good. He just wanted to raise his head to express his thanks, but found that John seemed to be still waiting for his next words.

"And then?" She was used to Sherlock's observation and deduction.John obviously thought he would do the same, expectant eyes: "How did it tell you?"

"...It just told me that." Lynn didn't quite understand what John was expecting, and was a little confused.

On the other side, Sherlock, who still hadn't snatched back his sofa, finally got angry.He stretched out his hand, grabbed Lynn's arm tightly like steel pliers, dragged him out of his sofa like a dead dog, and threw him to the opposite side, interrupting the conversation between the two who were obviously not on the same channel : "Don't expect Lynn to give you any deductive reasoning, doctor."

Picking up the violin at his feet, and playing a few strange notes, the big detective cast a contemptuous glance at the salted fish that was still in the thrown position and didn't bother to move: "It's just a little cleverness, he's always been so bluffing and deceitful." .Essentially a mortal as stupid as you are.”

"...Oh, God. Why do you keep a boyfriend like that, for Christmas?"

Rolling his eyes towards the ceiling, Lynn complained to John, who was staring at them with great interest, and then looked at Sherlock, with an unbearable expression on his face: "Besides, you actually called me stupid? People who believed that their violin could really talk back then Could it be me?"

"That's not why you and Mycroft teamed up to trick me!!"

He was extremely annoyed at the mention of black history, and the black-haired detective swiped his fingers and made a piercing noise on the violin: "The brains of geniuses are occasionally deceived by mortals, it's no surprise."

"Wait...you mean, Sherlock believed that his violin could speak?" Until now, keeping up with the rhythm of the two, John widened his eyes as if he had heard something incredible: "How old was he at that time? "

"Fifteen, or sixteen? I kind of forgot."

Regardless of the detective staring at him, Lynn thought for a while, and happily revealed all the black material: "At that time, he was a rebellious youth, and he had a high-functioning anti-social head, and no one paid attention to him. Mai Kaufu is afraid that he will cause some problems, so let me go, um, take care of his situation."

At that time, he realized that his ability was not long, and he could not control it well.So, I just wanted to communicate with Sherlock's violin and learn about his recent situation, but I accidentally trapped myself in it... Anyway, Sherlock and Mycroft were very scared during that time.It's just that the former is because he discovered that the violin can speak human language, and the latter is because he is worried about how to get him out of the violin.

And then, for a whole year after that, Sherlock didn't speak a word to him again.

"You don't even know what my life was like in college."

Leaning on the sofa, his face seemed to be pale because of the unbearable memories of that time, and Lin En's voice began to become weak: "We two live in a dormitory. He starts to play the violin at 2 o'clock in the morning every day. I woke up and went to sleep by myself. During the day, I brought back various dangerous chemicals to conduct experiments in my room, and once dug out the ** I brought back from training, and almost blew up the whole building..."

"He's still like this now." The more he listened, the more he resonated, and John couldn't help nodding frequently.

"So please allow me to express my heartfelt respect to you, doctor." Lynn's tone was very sincere: "I swear, if I live with Sherlock for another week now, he will definitely change from an annoying roommate to a A nasty corpse."

"You can try."

The bow in his hand hit Lynn's leg with a 'snap', successfully making him shut up.Sherlock raised his eyelids, looked condescendingly at his paler face, and said in a slightly sinking voice, "But I don't want to talk to someone who loses a hundred milliliters of blood in a minute...John, please go upstairs Get your medical kit down."

"Oh, God!" Only then did he notice the gradually expanding crimson on Lynn's leg. Watson quickly followed suit, took out the bandage, and re-wrapped his wound.

"Gunshot wound?"

After roughly looking at it, Sherlock retracted his bow and raised his eyebrows.

"A little accident, I thought there was nothing wrong with it."

Since he woke up, he had no time to care about it. Lynn watched John carefully cut off the blood-stained bandage, revealing the cracked wound. He felt a little frustrated: "The result seems to be a bit overestimating myself."

No answer.The black-haired detective lowered his head and dialed a high note, and was silent for a while, not knowing what he was thinking.Those eyes that are almost identical to Lynn's are full of deep thought. Even though this person never wants to tell himself where he has been, what he has done, and what shocking scars he has left, he can still find out from the inconspicuous clues. He guessed that it must have been a series of hardships that he could not imagine.

What on earth was Mycroft thinking, and let Lynn stay in that kind of place?

Suddenly, there was an unexplained irritability in my heart.Sherlock's fingertips paused on the strings, and unconsciously plucked out a long low moan.

"I'm like you, Sherl, it's our own choice."

As if knowing what the detective was upset about, Lynn leaned on the back of the sofa.Probably because of the pain, I took a light breath:

"Don't tell Mycroft."

The light at the door was suddenly blocked by shadows for a moment, and there was stillness and unknown silence in the air.Sherlock didn't raise his head, but seemed to know everything that happened in the room, and hummed softly: "It's late."

At the same time, Lynn suddenly raised his head and looked at the figure standing at the door of the living room on Baker Street.

"Don't tell me what?"

Leaning on a small black umbrella and standing there carelessly, Mycroft slightly protracted his tone: "Lyn?"

"You you you you..." The expression seemed to have seen a ghost during the day.But thinking about it carefully, Lynn didn't seem to be surprised. Lin En leaned back on the sofa in frustration, covered her face, and didn't dare to look at McCoff's current expression: "Can I die if I take a little longer outside?"

"I haven't restricted your freedom, you can rest at any time. The premise is, come and report to me after work."

Raising the black umbrella and nodding in the air, Mycroft looked at the man slumped on the sofa and pretended to be dead: "I've been waiting in the office for a long time, but you don't seem to have any plans to come anytime soon. So, I just Can you come here and listen in person?"

His tone rose slightly in the air, appearing a little arrogant for no reason.John fastened the last bandage, wiped his hands with a towel, and looked at Lynn with a strange look: "Are you McCoff's subordinate?"

"My men?"

Before Lynn could answer, Mr. British Government over there raised his eyebrows as if he had heard some cold joke: "Have you not introduced yourself to Dr. Watson, Lynn?"

Frozen all over, Lynn looked at Sherlock, but only got a helpless look.

"My negligence." He pouted helplessly: "Lynn Morris, my name."

So is it hard to say?John Watson was a little dazed and didn't quite know what they were doing, but before he nodded to show that he understood, Mycroft had already opened his mouth on the other end.

"I'll give you one more chance."

Raising his eyebrows, he casually stroked the smooth handle of the little black umbrella: "This is the last chance, take it well."

"……All right."

It was easy to hear the threat hidden in the tone, Lynn's eyes twitched, and he could only reach out to Watson under Sherlock's sympathetic gaze.

"Lynn Morris Holmes, my full name."

He sighed silently: "It's...the adopted son of Holmes and his wife."