Harry of the Sherlock Holmes

God bless those two guys not getting into any more trouble, Lestrade stepped into 221B worriedly - it's perfectly normal for Sherlock not to answer his calls, but if good doctor John is in a few hours The absence of any response is really worrying - considering the two of them have been glued to each other ever since they got married (oh no, they've been "together" for a lot longer than that).

He really wasn't expecting to see this.

"Oh, did you hear that?" Mrs. Hudson welcomed him in warmly. "He's so cute."

"He! Who?" He hadn't heard anything.

"Obviously, our son," Sherlock declared out of nowhere, in his usual annoyingly smug tone.

"I didn't know that your powers of observation had degenerated to such an extent."

"Sherlock, I told you to put all your laboratory equipment where they should be!" The ex-military doctor's roar came over.

"They're where they should be."

"No, they're not there. If you don't get those 'toys' away before Harry wakes up, I'll let you know how I invaded Afghanistan."

"Harry?" Lestrade couldn't restrain his curiosity.

"Yes, Harry. Sorry, Greg." John looked apologetically at the Inspector. "I'm just a little confused."

"I can understand." Lestrade nodded.Come to think of it, the Sherlock who calls himself a "high functioning sociopath" has a son! "Oh wait, where did you get this child? Sherlock, you can't just take someone else's child home just because you want one!"

"Of course we don't," John replied, his voice slightly raised by Lestrade's guess at Sherlock's offense, "Have a cup of tea and you'll find out what's going on.

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"Damn the weather!" John's legs have been healed since Sherlock's return, and the dark, gloomy weather didn't actually do him any real damage, but that doesn't mean the bad weather won't affect him Mood.

"You're bored." The world's number one consulting detective made an instant judgment.

"I'm bored?" the ex-military medic shoved the coffee mug into his sweet boyfriend's hands. "You're the one who curled up on the couch and yelled that you were bored after doing an experiment that nearly destroyed the house."

"But you're bored. John, I can't go wrong with my deduction (about you)."

"Yes, yes, detective. So you know what I want to do now?"

Sherlock didn't answer right away, he wrapped himself in the expensive overcoat: "Dinner. I know there's a nice new store."

John smiled and quickly followed behind him. Sherlock always thought that digestion would interfere with his brain's work, but he was also happy to share a delicious dinner with himself in his spare time. (When Sherlock works and doesn't feel like eating? John always has a way to "slip" him in.)

The food in that store was really good, and they also enjoyed a wonderful piece of violin music, except that there was a slight accident in the process-Sherlock criticized her in all aspects after discovering that John admired the violinist, and John had to find out in the summer Locke gagged his mouth before releasing all the privacy of the poor man whose violin skills were criticized.

Then they took a leisurely walk around London (oh, that's rare, they spend more time running and chasing fugitives.) until they came near Privet Drive—the street was dark.

"Sherlock?"

"There were no outage notices in this area."

Adrenaline pumping through his body, John touched his pockets, his pistol was left in 221B but he was carrying a sharp saber, which John asked Mycroft for.

They moved swiftly and carefully into the darkness.

"Could it be just an accident?"

"No, John, look around." Sherlock responded. "The circuits in this block are connected together. The lights of the houses next to it are still on, but the street lights on the street are all off. Why? There must be a demand here." ..."

He didn't finish his sentence, as if the twelve fireballs returned to their original street lamps, the darkness disappeared in a split second, and Privet Drive suddenly lit up in orange.

"How is this going?"

They walked into that street and saw the little blanket-wrapped bag on the steps of number four on Privet Drive—a baby lying quietly in the blanket bag.

And then things just go off the rails.

"Wizard? Interesting," said Sherlock.

"You believe it?" John looked at him in disbelief.In the blanket wrapped around the baby was a letter that spoke of wizards, magic, and a savior, but as a modern-educated M.D., he found it hard to believe.But now, Sherlock, who is so rational and scientific that he doesn't even read fantasy novels, just accepts the content of the letter.

"I'm equally surprised," Sherlock admitted to him, "but John, when you were complimenting that poor fiddler just now, I noticed owls flying by one by one outside the window, and we just bumped into each other on the road. Got 3 batches of people passing the cloak, and I'm sure someone mentioned the kid's name. More importantly, his blanket."

"blanket?"

"Certainly, the blanket. The child's body temperature is not high enough to keep the entire blanket around him that hot. Electricity? No, it looks fine from the outside. John, when all other possibilities are ruled out, then The rest, no matter how impossible it is, is the truth."

Sherlock always has a point, John thought, but he really didn't have time to marvel at it.Because Sherlock put the baby in his arms.

"Sherlock?"

"We can adopt him."

"Ugh..." John admits to having a similar thought when he saw the baby—that it might be a good idea to have a child that represents the continuation of both of them (oh, and raising a child with a real 12-year-old). child) "But if everything in the letter is true, doesn't this child have to be adopted by this family to be protected?"

Sherlock nodded, "But they can't do it anymore." He handed the mobile phone in front of John, and there was a car accident news on it-a tragedy happened on XX Street this morning. Mr. Vernon Dursley, his wife, The son passed away unfortunately. "The decor of the house shows that they are a traditional family, and there should be no one in the house at this time. The person who sent the child clearly did not do a good background check."

"So...we" John looked back and forth between Sherlock and the baby, "I thought you didn't like being tied down by affection."

"I don't like it? I'm pretty much chained," Sherlock muttered. "And I'm really interested in wizards."

"Oh, Sherlock." John laughed. "He'll be our son, you can't experiment with him!"

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"What do you think of this story?" The doctor smiled and looked at the inspector.

"Story? Oh, God, John, tell me it's just a fantasy story you tell."

"He's not." After hanging out with Sherlock for a long time, he also developed the bad habit of taking pleasure in other people's pain.He took Lestrade up to the second floor (they had converted John's former bedroom into a nursery).Their son rolled over in the quilt, but didn't wake up. Beside him, a small ball was floating and spinning in the air.

"Well, Greg, I think you could..."

John's words were interrupted by Sherlock: "Tell that fat man back home, I want an adoption certificate." During the last brother war, Sherlock removed all the cameras in the apartment.He didn't like to be bothered by Mycroft, but he really needed some help from some bastard right now.