My Detective Roommate [Sherlock Holmes]

Sherlock and Adelia had no opportunity for a proper talk until after dinner.Watson speculates that it may be because he has never found a chance to be alone.But until the two of them bid farewell and went back to the hotel, this beautiful, wise and independent female doctor who didn't seem to need Sherlock very much didn't have any words to keep her.Watson was pondering a cliché: Who loves whom more?

Two people walk in the evening.

"It's been a long time since I took a walk like this," said Sherlock, bathed in the afterglow of the setting sun, "rarely in such a mood."

"If she is still alive, you will have less regrets, and you must have the mood to appreciate the beautiful scenery again," Watson said with a smile, "I don't even know how to describe you in the story."

"No matter how you describe it, it's not appropriate. It's profound, but it's just an ordinary emotion, or it's subtle but precious," Sherlock has his own special way of describing it, "It's just like your previous story, the end of the story Don't have a record before."

"Then how do you define the end of the story?" Watson actually didn't intend to write a detective romance, but the detective seemed in a good mood, and he was also in the mood to joke.

"Ah, yes," said Sherlock suddenly, "I must go back, and I remember what I haven't told her about the shilling."

Watson just watched his friend turn and leave without hesitation.He watched his friends go away in place, and even felt a little gloating in his heart.

Love is illogical and unreasonable, and this detective, who is well versed in the art of logic, will probably suffer a lot.Watson couldn't help laughing on the spot when he thought of this, he thought: They couldn't really write the pros and cons of returning to London on Dr. Heston, oh no, Dr. Hudson's blackboard, right?

When Adelia first arrived in Kent, she lived in the Grange Manor. After the Osella Clinic opened, she reserved a room for herself in the clinic and usually lived here.

This day was the same. After work, she threw her somewhat tired body on the sofa, staring at the ceiling in a rare daze.

In fact, she wanted to ask Sherlock if he wanted to say anything else to her, but she didn't know how to open her mouth, so she simply didn't mention it.She thought, why can't there be ratings for feelings, just like ratings for atrial fibrillation, liver function, and state of consciousness? Why can't love have an objective indicator to let her know whether she can persist and whether she should give up? .

She didn't have any more fantasies about love, she told herself, maybe he just suddenly knew that he was alive, a momentary impulse, and she was just - and just -

She wanted to find an excuse for herself, but the many letters accumulated in the box did not allow her to explain.

Mycroft was right. She didn't need to write more letters. Any letter to Milverton would be enough for Milverton to ruin her wedding with anyone.

She couldn't help laughing at herself.

She wanted to say that maybe it would be a good ending for the two of them to fade away slowly, but she couldn't lie to herself.

Someone knocked on the door.

Adelia looked at the time and guessed that the dinner had arrived, but she didn't have the strength to straighten her expression, so she just opened the door with a blank face and no defense.

"Holmes?" She asked in a daze.

"You call my elder brother Mycroft," he naturally wouldn't miss her haggardness and emptiness, but he just took off his hat and teased him naturally, "you still call me by my last name?"

Adelia thought that she would be a little cautious and wanted to control her expression, but her eyes were already curved, and she couldn't help showing a smile.

This made her feel a little frustrated.

She closed the door and hung his hat and coat on the coat rack for him, and he watched quietly as she put their clothes together, and his traces invaded her room.

"Tea, milk, coffee, water?" Adlia never lacked all kinds of drinks here.

"I'll choose alcohol." He sat comfortably on the couch, and habitually began to infer: Obviously, there are very few guests here, at most it is Osera or Joanna, and a few nurses may have been here.Although it is in the clinic, I am afraid that no one will come here.

"Quit." Adelia vetoed.

"I don't believe there are no sick people who bring you wine," replied Sherlock.

"But I quit." Adelia emphasized again.

The two stood and sat, and looked at each other in silence for a while.

"I haven't quit smoking yet," Sherlock took out the cigarette case from his pocket, "You don't mind."

"What if I mind?" She also said some boring words along with him.

"Then control me."

The cigarette case twirled in his hand, fluttering lightly.

Adelia wanted to cry and laugh at the few words he said. After a few breaths of silence, she said softly: "I thought our first conflict would be that I haven't looked for you."

"I don't like to pursue the past, I care more about the present and the future that can be grasped." Sherlock stood up and took the initiative to put the cigarette case into her hand, still holding her hand, "Ah Delia, you will never leave me alone again without mercy."

"You have your companions."

"he has married."

"Then find another one."

Sherlock said nothing, just stared at her quietly.

Adelia thought she would see indifference or displeasure in his eyes, but no, he was even smiling.Even in her familiar surroundings, she still felt at this moment dominated by him.

"You see, we both mind each other's absence for a few years, so why should we waste time thinking about those missed times in the next three, four, or five years?" He said softly.

Adelia's heart was shaken violently, but she didn't avoid his gaze and stared at him hard.Four years passed, and he changed a little, but he seemed to remain the same, those gray eyes were clearer and deeper than before, and she always recognized his eyes.

Her eyelashes fluttered slightly, and she said the same but different words as at that time: "Sir, I don't understand literature, music, female celebrities, and other languages. It is ignorant in science, but some superficial achievements have been made in medicine.”

His gaze rested on her with such tolerance.

It turned out that her figure was small in his eyes, but she could completely occupy his field of vision.

"I sucked meaning out of you and found my career," she paused, "but compared to you, I'm kind of dull, uninteresting, sometimes less refined and sloppy, I'm afraid not Such a good candidate who can be with you for a lifetime—I know your world is vast, and you can meet more and better people in the future.”

Compared with her in the operating room today, she at this moment is simply an ordinary, sentimental little girl.But he loves every aspect of her so much.

"Your next sentence is always not that you are not strong enough, optimistic, brave, and kind?" He held her face in his hands and laughed, "Tell me, is your self-contempt because you have always been like this, or is it just because of me? before?"

It's hard for her to lie under his gaze: "I always feel that I am ordinary, but I don't really care what others think."

But she cares that in his eyes she loses her color one day.

"Last time I didn't firmly deny your self-deprecation with words, so let me tell you now, you are by no means as bad as you said," he gave absolute affirmation, "You said you were not strong and brave enough, but you held it The gossip of those vulgar people in Kent, withstood the cruel and bloody operation scene, and the grief of the mentor dying in front of your eyes; you said you were indifferent, but when you first met me, you accompanied me to adventure in a strange laboratory , correcting my dress on the carriage; you said you were not smart enough—my girl, there are too many examples in my mind at once, and I simply don’t know which one is more appropriate to choose to refute you.”

"All kinds of beautiful qualities shine on you, but you still tell me that you are just an ordinary pebble, and you are too bully," he said, laughing, "Don't hide your eyes, look Follow me."

So their eyes were tightly attracted together like a magnet.

"An old smoker, a person who almost slipped into the abyss of stimulants without you stopping him, a person who doesn't know how to appreciate the precious emotions of others, who often speaks harshly and is acrimonious-"

"You didn't—" she snapped back, knowing of course he didn't.

"Then, you understand me just as I understand you." He leaned closer to her, "Why do you use the evaluation of you by people who don't understand you to blackmail your appearance in my eyes?"

"I don't like the next sentence, but I have to say it.

"Love doesn't rely on such a detailed analysis, judging whether each other is a good match, at least I don't.

"It is contrary to my usual creed. It is not purely rational, but I will never give emotion rashly because of impulse."

Outside the window, the sunset gradually sinks.

The day was extinguished, and the night was immersed in her pupils. He insisted on waking her up, and wanted her to keep looking at him as at this moment.

"I don't think you know," his throat rolled, "I often feel suffocated when you're not around, I..."

He looked into her eyes: "I was stifled by the feeling of slow loss of life, until I saw you, you know, I would like you to intervene in my life, I wish I could tie you in my field of vision all the time."

He tried to downplay it, but his heart was beating wildly.

She could feel his heartbeat, and even felt that her own heart was going to jump out, and she couldn't wait to entangle with him. She couldn't hide, she didn't want to hide, her eyes were a little moist.

"I'm afraid that I will disappoint your expectations. You may not understand. I don't care about the eyes of most people, but I am afraid that I will fail your expectations. I am afraid that I..."

"Do you not trust love, or me, or my love?"

He clearly talked about love, and his heart beat like a dance, but his tone seemed to be solving a puzzle that puzzled him, so he naturally listed three options for her to choose.

But the more he was like this, the more anxious she was to cry.

"I may not be able to return to London in the short term." Her tone was a little aggrieved.

Realizing that Adelia was really worried about this matter, Sherlock laughed instead.

Adlia couldn't hold back, and patted his chest, feeling a little emotional.But he didn't say anything, just smiled and took her into his arms.For some reason, she wrapped her arms around his neck naturally and softly.

"Dear Anne, you may not realize that this is one of the things that attract me to you," he whispered in her ear, with a tenderness that he hadn't discovered in his voice, "We will go back to London soon." If you think about it, it’s really not possible, we will run around, or I will come to Kent, but don’t rush to refuse.”

Adelia was about to nestle her whole body up,

What did she love about him?

Is it his bowler hat or his waistcoat; is it his gold watch chain or his briar pipe?

Is it his words or the wisdom revealed in the words; is it his care or a hug without barriers?

She loved him for himself, she was sure.

"If I'm on the couch this time—you're not going to leave me for another couch, are you?" he asked knowingly.

"Then I'm afraid you can't escape me, sir, even if you sit on the single sofa, I will stick to your lap."

He grinned sullenly: "It's my pleasure."

The author says:

Fuck me, I've dedicated all my life's sour words and love poems to this book.

Write me to death.

To be honest, I think that the original Fu is likely to be carnivorous, because part of his personality traits is the pursuit of sensory stimulation. In this way, it should be more bright, and it should be attractive to him?I don't know that I'm messing around.

8 Throughout the original work, Lao Fu cares about talent and character, and I think he is quite able to discover the shining points of others, although he has a sometimes mean mouth (x).

——都给爷留言！感谢在2022-01-1819:00:39~2022-01-1923:13:52期间为我投出霸王票或灌溉营养液的小天使哦~

Thanks to the little angel who cast the mine: Manman 1;

Thanks to the little angel of irrigation nutrient solution: 7 bottles of Chen Chuanliu;

Thank you very much for your support, I will continue to work hard! ?