me and my vest

The heavy rain poured down, washed along the eaves, and flowed to the ground.

The unique soil on Naihe Island mixed with rainwater formed sticky and heavy mud, covering every road wetly.

The Batmobile was heading towards the block where Bruce and Lawrence were located at a speed that would be judged to be severely speeding in any area.

Alfred anxiously looked at the monitor next to the steering wheel. As soon as he received the news, he drove out of the manor, even putting on his clothes in a panic.

But it still takes time, doesn't it?

The tires splashed mud on the car, the raindrops also crackled on the roof of the Batmobile, and the lights on the roadside reflected the dazzling brilliance in the water curtain.

Alfred just hated that the car wasn't going fast enough.

The red dot representing Bruce Wayne was flashing on the locator. Master Wayne entrusted him to take care of it. The young man he also regarded as his own child was lying alone on the cold ground.

He was in this situation for Gotham, to protect his father's achievements, to make this city a better place...

He has sacrificed his future.

He shouldn't have come back to Gotham.

How I wish he hadn't come back.

The Batmobile drew a gorgeous arc on the road and parked downstairs by drifting.

Alfred quickly opened the car door and stepped out. The heavy rain instantly drenched his hair and clothes, but when he looked up to look for his young master, he suddenly felt relieved.

A man in a black coat was standing there leaning on a cane.

"...Mr. Holmes." Alfred let out a sigh of relief, the water droplets on his hair kept falling as he walked, "He should have told me you were here."

The detective smiled in a rare way, "Long time no see, Alfred."

Together, the two took Bruce into the Batmobile.

Alfred drove, and the detective and Bruce sat in the back seat.

"Fox." Alfred made a call, "Master Bruce is in some trouble, can you come to the manor?"

Fox is the director of the technology department of Wayne Enterprises. He got the Batmobile and the cape from him. After the death of Thomas Wayne, he was transferred to the bottom because of disagreements with the new profit-seeking management group.

But it's much better now, after all, he has a very, very thick golden thigh beside him.

Since Bruce often asks him for gear, he certainly knows who Gotham's latest Batman is.

The butler was relieved to call him over.

"So." Alfred took control of the steering wheel, and the Batmobile made a sharp turn and drove into the tunnel of Wayne Manor, "When did you know about this?"

"I met Bruce at a hotel not long ago."

"Yes, Master Wayne has just returned to Gotham, he needs to participate in some entertainment to familiarize himself with the environment."

"Bruce was about to buy that hotel for two women."

oh my god.

Alfred covered his forehead in his heart and sighed.

So embarrassing.

"His walking posture is a bit strange, as if unconsciously leaning to the left, as if he had fallen from a high place." The detective put his cane against the car door and observed the rapidly passing wall in the tunnel from the corner of his eye.

"We released the news that the young master is obsessed with extreme sports."

"As far as I know, he just returned to Gotham not long ago, which is not much different from the time when the active vigilante appeared." The detective was silent for a while, "As far as the facts are concerned, I got the news of the unfortunate death of Mr. Wayne and Mrs. Wayne." information."

"I don't think Bruce, who is smart and studious, will grow up to be an empty-headed playboy."

"To sum up, if a person shows something that is not in line with his original personality, then it can usually be judged that he is hiding something."

"Of course, these are all inferences without the slightest logic and evidence. I will not regard them as part of the inferences. The only time it can be confirmed is when Bruce mentioned Mr. Holmes."

In fact, if you don't know enough about Bruce Wayne, people will not associate a playboy with a masked vigilante.

Especially Bruce's acting is pretty good.

The Batmobile was parked in an empty burrow, which was secretly built by Bruce's grandfather to help transport slaves during the Civil War.

The Wayne family has been great people for generations.

The upward lift connects to the Wayne Manor study.

Bruce was placed in his bedroom by Alfred, Shili moved a chair and sat in front of his bed, and the housekeeper went to welcome Fox who came to help.

The rain was a little lighter, and it fell on the green grass of Wayne Manor.

Tall maple trees shelter an area like an umbrella.

That's where my mother used to go on picnics with herself.

Bruce's eyes can't focus anymore, and he can't continue to think about even one question.

Perhaps because he had read the Sherlock Holmes anthology in the manor too many times, there seemed to be a phantom of Baker Street behind the detective sitting quietly by his bed.

The bells of London seemed to be ringing under the dark night sky.

Rainy nights, test tubes, top hats, pipes, warm stoves, case files...

The grotesque London gradually replaced the bats that kept appearing in the field of vision, and Bruce closed his eyes.

Detectives heard the door slam.

"If it's a hallucinogen, then you really should have a blood test." The old man in a black suit followed Alfred quickly and walked in with a suitcase.

"How is it?" asked the butler.

"I think he probably fell asleep." Shi Li replied.

Fox was taken aback when he heard other people's voices. After all, the extra job Bruce Wayne was doing was really dangerous. He always thought that only he and Alfred knew about it.

"Who is this?"

With that question on his mouth, Fox still took out the needle with both hands very steadily and got ready.

"...This is Mr. Sherlock Paltrow." Alfred concealed the real identity of the detective, "The new consulting detective of the police station."

Fox's attitude was visibly relaxed.

"I've heard about you. You have solved many cases and helped Gotham a lot. The police station is finally looking like it is."

"Thank you, I also like this job very much."

The blood was taken out, and Fox took the test tube to test it in a hurry. After the analysis result came out, he could make the corresponding antidote.

The detective stayed alone in the bedroom and carefully observed the young man lying on the bed through the dim light.

Bruises on the wrists, welts on the back - maybe from being a ninja master, a bit of a burn scar on the face, looks like he's in a state of high stress - just pretending to be a playboy night out exhausted.

It's still a kid—at least to Shirley.

"Mr. Holmes."

The butler gently opened the door, leaned half of his body out from behind the door, and whispered an invitation to Shi Li, "Come out and have a cup of tea, please."

Alfred made a cup of black tea. For an Englishman, you can never go wrong if you invite him to drink tea.

"Thank you for hospitality."

The detective sat quietly, lifted his teacup from the saucer, and asked suddenly, "May I borrow the phone?"

"Of course, please go ahead, Mr. Holmes." Aff said, "The telephone is in the living room. Wayne Manor is open to you. You can use whatever you want."

The detective expertly dialed a string of numbers.

This phone card was bought by him.

"This is John Hua, John Hardwick."

"I am Holmes."

"Sherlock? Oh, it's getting late, aren't you coming back today?'"

There was the sound of clothes rubbing on the other end of the phone. It was obvious that Watson turned and glanced at the clock hanging on the wall.

"I have something to do."

"You have a case?"

"It's about the same as that, but it's more complicated. I'll be back as soon as possible." The detective went on. Don't go back alone in the end, I will find you."

"I understand."

"Are you sure about the seriousness of this matter?"

"Of course, I am a person who cherishes life."

"That's good, that's all I have to say." The detective, who was about to hang up the phone, added suddenly, "Watson, your milk is going to evaporate."

"What? My God, you must have cameras in the room."

"I didn't put a monitor on it, at least I know it's your time to boil the milk."

"So you picked this time to call?"

"Of course not. It's a coincidence. I wish you a sweet dream."

With a snap, the doctor on the other end hung up the phone before he could say anything else.

Shilul, on the other hand, seemed to be in a good mood—for having his partner clean up the spilled milk on the kitchen counter.

"Have you finished calling Dr. Watson?" Alfred asked. "Perhaps you would like some cookies?"

The housekeeper brought out the dessert that was originally prepared for Bruce.

"Of course, my pleasure."

------------

When Bruce woke up the next morning, clutching his head, there was no familiar figure beside the bed, nor the familiar vegetable juice and cookies.

How did I get back yesterday?

Like Mr. Holmes?

It's too embarrassing, it's just hallucinogens, such skills are tricked.

Bruce wiped his face with his hands, put on his pajamas and slippers, and prepared to go out to meet the care and comfort of the elders.

"Could you put in more mashed potatoes?"

"No, Fox, I don't think it's going to be a good taste, please put down your broccoli."

"Then I'll go squeeze a glass of juice, do you have any fruit here?"

"Of course, please get it from the refrigerator."

"Mr. Paltrow! Do you want apple juice or orange juice?"

"Please give me a glass of mixed juice."

"Okay, as for Alfred, I don't think I need to make juice for him who doesn't like mashed potatoes."

The butler calmly cracked an egg and poured it into a bowl, pretending not to hear the verbal condemnation.

And no care and comfort.

Bruce stood by the banister on the second floor in a daze, looking down.

"Bruce, come down for breakfast."

The detective who was sitting on the sofa reading the newspaper was the first to spot him.

"You can eat it right away, you need to make up for it, don't you?"

There really was no care and comfort.

It wasn't until after eating three fried eggs that Bruce struggled to confirm this fact.

But this kind of atmosphere is very warm and peaceful, the sound of the collision of kitchen utensils, the friction of flipping through newspapers, and the sound of the juicer, Bruce has not heard such a "home" sound for a long time.

But this time it was taken for granted.

Ten minutes later, the three elders sitting opposite Bruce put down their knives and forks together.

"Where do hallucinogens come from?"

"Master, what did you find yesterday?"

"Why don't you tell me if there are unsolved cases?"

Bruce smiled stiffly.

The author has something to say: Late night update!

Come and comment, I will randomly send some red packets _(:з」∠)_

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