Sherlock Research SH

"I swear, I didn't do this," Dove said, throwing the apple core from the open balcony, "If you were here to arrest me. Seriously, I wouldn't let this happen It's across the street." She leaned against the foot of the bed, staring at the motionless back, and suddenly began to hesitate, "You don't really think it's me, do you? Will you handcuff me?"

"That would require a lot of formalities, and it's not my job. Now, if you'd like to get dressed—"

"What's wrong? Are you blushing?"

"I'm a grown man, Miss Jones. I don't blush at a little nudity. I hope you..."

~~~~~

Strange things happen at certain moments.What is even more strange is that people cannot immediately detect the specificity of time.It can take years or even a lifetime before they realize that moment has come when they suddenly look back.

It started with the three thefts of No.20 in Dove's cabinet five days ago.

"One hour of work earns me two packs of cookies. That means one more hour of work to feed me and a stranger." She grumbled at the messy books in the cabinet.

One of the disadvantages of studying in the city center is that the school is like a shopping mall with a huge flow of people, and even the operating procedures are not much different: pick out the items you like and put them in your carry-on backpack.

"The stranger you mentioned doesn't mean me, does it?"

Dove hurriedly tried to get up from the ground, her head slammed into the partition of the cabinet, and the books she had just stacked were scattered all over the floor.

"Where did you come from?" she muttered, covering the top of her head.

"Belarus." Sherlock put his hands behind his back, awe-inspiring justice, and even made people ignore the blue nightgown he was wearing, "Buy me a pack of cigarettes."

"What? I thought Mr. Chatterjee—"

"Yes, Mrs. Hudson runs shops at least two miles around. Of course that goes into my rent, so technically...why are you squatting?"

Only then did Dove hold the cabinet and struggle to stand up while embracing the textbooks. She could feel her gaze sweeping from the top of her head to the soles of her feet, fluffy, stretching each of her toes uncontrollably.It was confusing, as if she had just realized the majesty of the feathers.

"You're not expecting to find a vending machine at school, are you?" she said, wavering at the same time.She was afraid that as long as Sherlock opened his mouth, she could run a few blocks to satisfy him, "Aside from that, is there anything else I can do for you?"

Sherlock sighed, pushing his temples with his palms.It looked like he really needed one. "Find me a case."

"Oh, lucky you, I just lost a pack--"

"Boring! A man named Steven with endocrine disorders took it a few minutes ago, and he left a letter behind. Please have another one." He raised his head and shouted impatiently.

"Letter? I don't seem to have seen the letter?"

"Thrown by me. Don't waste time reading perfumed letters. Especially women's perfumes."

"So you hate perfume?"

"No." Sherlock frowned.He raised his eyebrows, his eyes widened, and Dove could even see his floating reflection in it, "You wear perfume too."

"Well, I see. So you don't hate me?" She stopped and stared at the classroom that never seemed to know the distance.

The dark classroom amplifies its magical power further, as if it has become a new black hole in the school.All the time in today is more than doubled by it.Even Dove's voice sounded like grains of sand in the black hole, dense and drifting, scratching its curved boundary, "Sherlock?"

"what?"

Maybe it's not just a singularity that violates the laws of physics, maybe a very specific moment is planned here, not only locking up all escaping light, but also ready to start its disaster.

"Do you want to come in?"

This has got to be the scariest March in history.

Dove was tugging at Sherlock's collar in the dark.She kissed him, but it was like kissing the froth in the waves, being brought to the beach by the floating waves, and then being carried into the spray by the sea.Her back was pressed against the wall, it was terribly cold, but she couldn't feel the slightest bit of dislike, and her hands holding her collar were getting stronger.She was flying away, the air took her without even trying.

Sherlock turns out to be part of the black hole, a proper and polite violation of the laws.

Taking advantage of his length, he raised his head and muttered, "No...I need something stronger."

"What? Now? Here?" I had to admit that when the hands supporting Dove's chin were put down neatly, she was extremely disappointed.There were times when Sherlock felt like a man she could truly love, but at other times he seemed like a total stranger.

The back door of the classroom was suddenly opened viciously with a creak. Dove squinted, unable to recognize which professor scolded, "What the hell are you doing?"

"Projection bulb check." Sherlock must have answered without changing his face.

~~~~~

The most exciting event of the year, the cafe where Dove worked was suspended due to an accidental explosion, and she was able to receive a lot of salary during the period.

"I just said, one day you will definitely commit such a thing." Finn adjusted his tie in the mirror.

Dove sat cross-legged on the kitchen floor, yelling at the knob on the dishwasher, "Are you in such a hurry to date? Can't you wait until this rumbling thing is over?"

"Don't be stupid. I've made a reservation at the restaurant, the steakhouse that Jessie has been wanting to eat. We'll be too busy to see each other in a few days." He said, taking off his tie at the same time.He prefers to fiddle with the four buttons on his chest.

"You said you were trying vegetarianism, didn't you? What are you up to?"

"Cows eat grass, we eat cows. That's the same as we eat grass, you idiot." He paused, leaned to the mirror and twiddled his temples, "Read the newspaper. Vermeer's oil paintings are going on display in our art gallery Out. The other two guys, one is elusive and the other is cynical, so I'm the only one you can count on."

Why do men have sideburns, don't you think it makes them look like fruit pie with lace?

"Um... by the way, Finn. I think you should give her a call tonight. You know, she's already started writing to us."

"If you call postcards of scenic spots a letter. Anyway, I'll contact her and try not to fight. She always talks about my job. But you also know how much I love this job."

Dove stepped barefoot on the low table and jumped into the sofa.She was going to let the dishwasher continue to be noisy and overflowing with bubbles. "She's in the paper. Didn't you notice?"

"Nonsense. Look at the title page introduction. Hey," Finn dug out the jacket from the cabinet, several plastic hangers were pulled to the floor together, "do you remember what I said about Collins? You—"

"Oh shut up! I'm going to Baker Street now."

He suddenly became serious for no reason, raised the coat hanger and pointed at Dove, "What are you doing? Listen, the explosion on Baker Street, this could be a terrorist attack! What the hell are you going to—"

"Come on. I'm going to try my luck, sir."

~~~~~

Dove also once had a very fond boy.This continued until he published his study on parrots in the school journal, and Dove never spoke to him again. "I'm keeping a native bred, clumsy and very destructive bird," he wrote, "a parrot that bites through everything if it's given her a chance."

"Why? I don't understand." Lestrade nodded to himself and took out a biscuit from the paper bag.

Dove turned her head away from watching the parrot explanation on TV, "He once said at lunch how much I resemble that parrot." To some extent, this has accumulated her current extreme fear of birds.

"But you never thought about it, maybe it would be some kind of metaphor?"

Obviously, bad luck today.

When she saw Sherlock and the waxy potato poring his chin up to study the chaotic map pinned to the wall, she threw up her hands and swore she would be absolutely silent so she could sit on the couch and eat a fresh cookie .

When she was forced to watch the animal world, Sherlock was frantically holding the phone and stuffing it into the weird bag.

"Sir, why do you want to eat my biscuit?" Dove stared at Lestrade's outstretched hand again.

"Uh, because these biscuits are really too much for you alone." He opened his arms and laughed, and the original distress disappeared.

"That's right. It's a biscuit for two." The camera pans forward, the bird's beak looming under the fluttering plump blue feathers.Dove felt creepy, and closed her eyes under the temper, "Don't eat my biscuits. I hate people eating my biscuits."

"Then why on earth did you buy two servings?" Lestrade became even happier without concealing it.This made him more like a living parrot, squealing with joy when he saw his companion's wings clipped.

Sherlock finally hung up the phone. "I'm going out." With his bag on his shoulders, he turned on the TV, "You too, Lestrade."

"No, I still—"

"You go to Scotland Yard now and wait."

"Why does it have to be there? I—"

"Because I asked you to wait there." He put on the scarf and looked down at Dove and the biscuit on her lap, "Later, after I confirm the information provided by the Secretary of the Interior, I will See you there. As for you, Miss Jones. Stay here and don't go out until I get back. Don't open the refrigerator, don't go near the window. More importantly," he propped up the back of the sofa with one hand, pulling from Dove's back. Pulling out his pressed coat, he whispered in his ear almost under his matted hair, "Don't talk to Lestrade."

To be honest, Dove wasn't quite sure what happened next.Sherlock probably had an argument with Mrs. Hudson, or he might have put up with Lestrade's whining, or caught a few parrots with bared teeth, but it's impossible to be sure.If the usual Dove is filled with whispers, then it should be a small and medium-sized theater that is currently performing "The Magic Flute", and it happens to be a section before the bird catcher comes on stage.Tamino is shouting at the temple: "Where am I? Am I dreaming or am I living? Or some great power rescued me?"

The sun slid down, hastily slashing the sky, leaving bruises and scars, before the low pavement of haze spread over it.It acts recklessly without knowing it, without a trace of falsehood, which makes the sky addicted and fascinated.

"Please promise me you'll stay here."

"I will." Dove nodded.

Not going anywhere.

~~~~~

Dove leaned against the foot of the bed.Her hair dripped and stuck to her neck and front.

"What the hell are you doing here?" She stared straight at the curly hair. "If you're trying to stimulate me to come up with new ideas by climbing the balcony, I have to tell you that Shakespeare has already turned the page."

Sherlock sighed, he half closed the balcony door, his tone was as stubborn as his straight back, "You didn't take the current issue seriously."

"I haven't been serious about anything for a long time..." Dove suddenly paused, wrinkled her nose and sneezed several times.She stared at the back of her head indifferently, "Can you please close the door? Close it completely."

"That would be distracting and not good for me. Besides, why don't you wear something?"

"I'm wearing clothes, Mr. Detective! I assure you it's a lot more fabric than it was in Victorian times. But you, what the hell are you doing in my room?"

"In short, I need you to fetch me your brother's work coat."

"Finn's old coat? What do you want that for? Maybe you are interested in that oil painting, but the Hickman Museum of Art will be on display tonight, isn't it? Why..." Dove was stunned, interested He raised his eyes vigorously, "How do you know he is my brother? You first—"

"Yeah, I said he was your 'cohabitant' at first. Even though there's nothing inherently wrong with that and you do live together, I'm willing to admit my mistake. I thought you were a couple at first too. We met at the corner restaurant, remember?" Sherlock said, fumbling in his pocket as if remembering something, "He loves you more than you can imagine. Don't be so surprised, Miss Jones. I After reading this," it was a crumpled dark red newspaper clipping, he shook it in his hand, and then read, "'Brief introduction to the writer: Mrs. Jones has picked dozens of newspaper clippings for many best-selling travel guides. Awards. Among them, the series "Visiting Keswick", "Visiting Birmingham" and "Visiting Liverpool" have attracted readers from all over the world and are widely acclaimed. Mrs. Jones, who currently lives in London, has a daughter, Dove Jones, 24 years old, and a son. '"

Dove suddenly remembered that Sherlock owed her two seats. "What are you still doing with this?"

"It's a long story, we've wasted too much time, lives are at stake. Bring me his clothes. Now, immediately." His voice was raised a lot, and he really looked impatient.It's like a 12-year-old boy, frizzy and looking forward to being followed.

"Oh, whatever trick you're up to. He's gonna kill me."

"Then I will take up the case when the time comes, Miss Jones."

The author has something to say:

The general update of the previous article is just because of obsessive-compulsive disorder. I changed some places that I feel are not smooth after reading and reading, and it does not affect the development of the storyline.

All in all, it is recommended to eat it with the original drama, because after all, it is about stories other than the BBC. Almost all of them are written in conjunction with the plot of the original drama. Sherlock and John’s blogs also refer to a lot

My helpless strange style of writing is probably like this, right? It's too jumpy, isn't it?

s1e3结尾和s2e1ireneadler的正式出场其实间隔挺多的（4月1日晚游泳池至9月15日buckinghampalace的白色床单）john和sarah在newzealand旅游外加分手还有一些七七八八的案子

These... I won't talk about it anymore.

Mrs. Holmes, please pretend it's okay.