Silent guardian

The March sea breeze has blown, and the streets of London are surrounded by damp mist.

The light at dusk is lazily scattered on the ground, and the ground extends to the horizon, blending with the vast sky.

At this moment of magic, suddenly there was a gunshot.

"Hurry up!"

Sherlock dragged Watson, and jumped from one roof to another low roof, and then turned back, only to hear a "bang!" gunshot, and the man who was chasing them was darkened the moment he jumped up. Hit by the gun at the place, the body that lost strength fell straight down.

"Sherlock!" Watson shouted.

Sherlock quickly came to his senses, and the two nimble men had climbed over the fence of the alley under their feet and rushed straight towards them.

Located on the platform, there is no way to avoid it.

Sherlock glanced around, then grabbed Watson and jumped off the west wall, using the dense grass downstairs to cushion his strength.

The two had just got up from the ground when the pursuers had arrived.

But they were shot again before they could touch Sherlock's sleeve.

Watson looked at the two corpses lying at his feet, and couldn't help feeling a chill down his spine.

Fear is only for a moment, it cannot stop their progress.

For Watson, the terrible thing is not dying at gunpoint, but lying in bed waiting to die. That is what he cannot bear.

"My God! What the hell have you done?"

Watson patted his chest, panting heavily, and Sherlock was also panting, his sharp eyes were scanning the outside of the car, he needed to determine whether the current situation was safe.

"Of course it's for the things in the phone."

"What's in there?"

Sherlock shook his head, "I don't know, I didn't untie it."

Watson was startled, and immediately understood that someone deliberately released the news that Sherlock had unlocked the code, which attracted so many pursuers.

Now that mobile phone has become a hot potato, it's not worth throwing it away, or not throwing it away.

"Mycroft knows?" Watson thought of the black-bellied figure who controlled MI[-]. If he knew, he would definitely not want Sherlock to do such a dangerous thing.

"Of course he knows." Sherlock pondered, "Now whoever gets what I have is enough to kidnap the entire British government."

Seeing the seriousness of the matter, Watson couldn't help but shudder, "Then why didn't you hand it over to Mycroft?"

Sherlock took out his mobile phone, checked the newly received text message, and his face softened.

"Leaving it to Mycroft can only be a bad thing, and I still have many mysteries to solve."

"But it's dangerous!" Watson was worried about Sherlock's safety.

"I know." Sherlock replied lightly, "I must find the answer to this matter."

Watson is well aware of Sherlock's character. Since he is determined to pay attention, even ten bulls will not be able to pull back. But Sherlock's situation is indeed dangerous right now, and he may be injured or even die at any time.

"I'm sorry, Sherlock." Watson apologized suddenly, which made Sherlock a little confused.

"what?"

"I didn't expect it." Watson paused, "I didn't expect this to be so bad. I'm really sorry for bringing you into such a dangerous situation."

Watson's original intention was to let Sherlock get out of the haze and get out of that gloomy state of mind, but he didn't expect that this was a game designed against Sherlock. He was really worried that the opponent would be as smart as James.

Now Sherlock is a good steak, everyone is fighting for it.

"No." Sherlock shook his head, "This situation is inevitable, someone reminded me before this, you don't have to blame yourself, this is my own choice, it must be so."

All of this is Sherlock's choice, and when Mycroft reminded him, he had already given the clearest answer.

He can't be sure, so he must attract the other party to show up.

And the quickest way is to put him in danger, no matter whether the opponent treats him as an opponent or a toy, they will not kill him.

He is betting, betting on his own life.

He thought of the white rose, the scent of jasmine tea on Irene's body, and the blurred letter Q. This long series of messages seemed to silently convey a message: come to me.

As if to cater to Sherlock's state of mind, a woman in red appeared on the screen in front of the bridge. She stood in the vast snow and shouted to the snow mountain in the distance, "How are you? I'm very happy." good."

The gentle female voice echoed in the world, like the afterglow of a bell, hitting Sherlock's eardrums over and over again.

Are you OK?

I'm very good.

Maura, how are you?

I feel bad.

No matter how difficult and dark a person's road ahead is, I can bear it.But ever since I had you, I can no longer be careless. From the moment you appeared, I knew that my shackles, my shackles, had arrived.

My dearest, how can I expose my pain in front of you, I would rather be wounded and bleed where you can't see, than see you ache for me.

You think so too, Maura.

Late at night, the Barts Hospital is still in the middle of the night.

When the night returns, loneliness and loneliness are side by side silently.

This night, I don't know how many lives passed away, how many tears flowed, and how many hearts were broken.

Sherlock hesitated for a while in front of the laboratory door, but finally did not push the door open, he turned and went to the top floor.

The evening breeze was blowing, and the sky was glowing with sporadic blue light.The surrounding lights are feasting and the lights are brilliant, in stark contrast to the abyss-quiet Barts Hospital.

Sherlock stood under the night, silent without saying a word.

Watson couldn't help asking, "Will she really come?"

"Yes." Sherlock looked around, "You can go to rest first, I don't think she will show up so soon."

Sherlock didn't want Watson to really go to rest, but he knew that if Watson was here, the other party would definitely not show up.

He took out his mobile phone, hesitated for a long time, and then entered the password.

IAMSHER LOKED

I'm locked up, locked up by Sherlock.

[The password is released. 】

A photo appeared on the phone. It was a black-haired Asian girl sitting among blooming white roses. She was dressed in a red dress to set off her complexion like snow, but Sherlock still noticed her paleness and fragility concealed by makeup. .

A line of small words appeared on the screen: I hope my love will not become your burden, I choose to love you, and I want to love freely.

Sherlock only felt a blockage in his throat, and a turbulent sea was set off in his heart.

For a long time, he has been locked by a soul named Sherlock. The other party's wisdom and rationality are completely beyond his imagination.

He has a poisonous tongue, is incomprehensible, heartless, ruthless, and believes in the supremacy of reason. In his eyes, the world is the truth except for clues.

He looked around, it was night, and there was no one in sight.

where is that personWhere should the person who said this sentence be now?

If he is really dead, why leave such a puzzle for him to run for his life?

Sherlock stared into the night, feeling a poisonous snake eating his heart.

He gasped under pressure, the calmness and rationality he had always maintained seemed to have withered, and when faced with the flood of memories, all he could do was growl in silence.

He has been silent for too long, he thought he could forget and time can dilute everything, but now it seems that it is just deceiving himself.

"Mola!" He finally couldn't help calling out the first sound. He knew that person was nearby and he would definitely be able to hear it.

"Mola!"

"Mola!"

,,,,,,,

He couldn't stop once he opened his mouth, although he knew that it was not only childish and stupid, but he felt that there was nothing wrong with being a fool.

As long as that person can hear,,,,,,

Sherlock's voice is loud and can travel far, but what answers him is the silence of the night.

Watson was standing on the corridor leading to the rooftop with his coffee in his hand. He had no intention of going up. He felt that Sherlock should not be disturbed. He had held back for too long.

After a while, Watson's cell phone rang suddenly. He checked it, and it was an alarm text message from McCaughey. His expression changed, and he suddenly got up.

"Sherlock!"

As soon as the door was opened, a gun was pointed at his head, and a dozen men in suits were pointing guns at him and Sherlock.

"Hand over your phone," a man threatened.

Sherlock looked at the gun approaching Watson, his eyes flashed with worry, "You didn't take it, the secret has been locked."

"Don't force me to do it, Mr. Holmes." The man turned his head and ordered to the person who stopped Watson, "I will count to five. If you don't hand it over, I will kill Mr. Watson."

"etc,,,,,,"

"One, two,,,,,,"

Watson cast a glance at the person who reported the number, his expression was cold, his behavior was decisive, and he did not hesitate at all. At first glance, he looked like a specially trained agent. It might not be easy to escape from this kind of person.

Just as Watson was sweating for the lives of himself and Sherlock, the man who suppressed Watson suddenly fell down with a "swoosh", followed by a few more cracking sounds, and then fell down a few more times. indivual.

A group of men in black immediately dragged Watson and Sherlock back downstairs. Sherlock's heart moved, and he cleverly broke away from the arm of the man who was pulling him, and suddenly rushed to the edge of the roof, and jumped down without hesitation.

Everyone was stunned by his suicidal action, and even Watson took a long time to react.

"Sherlock!"

Just as Watson was about to rush over, he was taken aback suddenly. This voice,,,,,,

He didn't scream. It was a female voice that screamed. He couldn't be more familiar with that voice, because it wasn't the first time he heard it.

"Mola?"

"I won."

Sherlock was hanging in mid-air, holding on to the protruding window lattice of the tall building with both hands, showing a gratified smile.

He admits that he is despicable and shameless, but this is the quickest way to die and survive. Since Mora has used it before, why can't he use it?

He is ready, even if he is served by the other party with the ten tortures of the Qing Dynasty, he will be happy.

He has never experienced such a profound feeling at this moment, feeling that his whole heart can fly out, leaving Sherlock, leaving the UK, leaving the world, and rising to an absolute space and height.

It was an empty world, and there was a figure with long black hair and a red skirt, like a ball of fire, beautiful and glamorous.

He felt that as long as he remembered that shadow, even if he remembered it, he would have gained enough warmth.

At this time, a hand stretched out.

That face was full of anxiety, mixed with reproach and contempt, Sherlock suddenly showed a smirk, and then went up to him.

He said cheekily, "You are reluctant to part with me after all."

Mora looked at him, even if she was angry and happy, it was a tangled emotion, but Mora wanted to speak a few times, but in the end she didn't make a sound, and in the end she just said helplessly,

"Reluctant."

The other party has already betrothed her life, what else can she say.

Sherlock's eyes lingered on Maura's face for a long time, and then looked down at the wheelchair, and the repeated joy was suddenly diluted by guilt.

Originally, he wanted to ask her why she concealed the truth, but the words turned into, "Go back to Baker Street."

His tone was so rare and gentle that it even had a hint of pleading, which made it impossible for him to respond to his witty remarks for a while.

Mo La looked at him, and nodded slightly after a while.

Soon, the heavily armed special operations team surrounded the entire hospital, and the helicopter commanded by Mycroft also landed on the rooftop, with a strong oriental wind blowing, making Sherlock's coat rattle, and he Standing motionless in front of Mora, facing the dark night.

Watson on the side didn't speak from the beginning to the end. He wanted to open his mouth several times but stopped.

At this moment, Mora only has Sherlock in his eyes, and Sherlock only has Mora in his eyes, and he can't answer at all.

Still, the days ahead are long, aren't they?

The author has something to say:

It's finally over, thank you for your company all the way.