My Detective Roommate [Sherlock Holmes]

Even though it was winter, it was warm to be back on Baker Street.

Sherlock doesn't like to travel in winter, and a very important reason is his wife.

—he had been married to Adlia for a year, and he managed to make it back in time to not miss their first married Christmas.

Mrs. Hudson took off his hat and scarf for him, and muttered to him in a customary way, that he came and went in a hurry, haggard and disheveled.

"I'm absolutely glowing now," he dismissed Mrs. Hudson amusedly. "How's Adelia?"

Mrs. Hudson smiled narrowly: "What can she do, she runs to the clinic every day, you two look alike, you don't even have time to eat when you're busy."

Sherlock kissed Mrs. Hudson's forehead, wisely not to speak for her, otherwise Mrs. Hudson's gunfire would turn on him in a moment: "What is she doing?"

"The bathroom," Mrs. Hudson raised her eyebrows suggestively, "I don't care about you."

She dragged her tone, and added slowly: "I have a party when I go out tonight, you young people, you can figure it out."

Sherlock understood what she meant almost instantly. The point is that he couldn't say anything, so he could only cough lightly: "Merry Christmas, Mrs. Hudson."

"Merry Christmas."

Sherlock tugged at his collar a little, took a few steps up the stairs, and when he reached the door, he hesitated and locked it behind his back.Naturally, his sensitive ears would not miss the sound of water in the bathroom.As if wanting to divert his attention, he looked around the room and confirmed that during the month of his absence, Adlia returned to her usual living habits—except that there was an extra blanket on the sofa, and the single sofa was dragged away. Nearer the fireplace, there are no more new traces.

But every time she was so neat and meticulous, he wanted to make a mess.

Hanging the suit jacket behind the door, putting the suitcase on the ground, kicking off the leather shoes, he stepped on the carpet with very light steps.

When he opened the bathroom door, he wisely hid behind the door and only showed his eyes.

"Mr. Sherlock Holmes!" Adelia shouted, startled and ashamed.

She slid all over into the bathtub, hiding herself under the foam.

Only then did Sherlock walk in calmly, even leaning his arms on the side of the bathtub: "I remembered that you refused me to go to the Turkish bath many times before."

"It's a ghost that I can promise——Sherlock, are you sure you've fallen to the point where you don't even knock when you enter the bathroom?"

"My home, my wife, I don't think there's anything wrong with me," he slowly unbuttoned his cuffs, rolled them up above the elbows, and then reached out and gently smoothed her wet hair, "I You are advised not to be too violent—if my shirt is soaked, it will be difficult for us to restrain Mrs. Hudson's imagination."

The moment he approached, she subconsciously closed her eyes, but her eyelashes were still trembling uneasily.

— There is no doubt that she missed him too.

She raised her head high, and in order to accept his kiss, her shoulders were barely above the water, but she shrank back because of the cold, the water rippled slightly, stirring people's hearts slightly.

"I'm going to be dragged into the water by you, Annie." He finally let go of her breath, and rubbed the water drops behind her ears with the tip of his nose affectionately.

"I didn't drag you into the water." She was so itchy that she was about to curl up, and the most terrible thing was that she didn't even dare to stretch out her hand, "It's clear that you insisted—"

Her words were blocked again.

He pressed her lips like that and asked, "Are you coming out?"

She vaguely refuses.

So the kissing stopped, and he casually tore off the bow tie and the first button of his shirt: "You're right, I entered the water voluntarily."

After the nonsense, the person was fished out, and the water in the bathtub was already cold.

"I vaguely remember that you promised me to dress up the house well," Sherlock wrapped his wife under the quilt, "but I see that you didn't do anything except add an extra blanket on the sofa."

"Ang," she was dazed, but she didn't deny it, "help me brush my hair."

"Change the subject." He blamed lightly, and finally brought a towel over.

Her hair has grown a lot, and it was supposed to be cut short. He voted against it, but Adlia objected. As a result, Mrs. Hudson sternly rejected her before leaving the house, and the reason was very good-she had I have seen Adlia with short hair for more than ten years.

Sherlock, who indirectly achieved her goal, could only "cede land and pay compensation" and promised to help her wipe her hair.

His movements were very light, and Adelia, who was already tired, fell asleep easily. Sherlock wanted to wake her up and eat something before going back to sleep, but seeing her eyes were black and blue, I am afraid that she had worked a while ago. Having the heart to wake her up, he simply lay down and fell asleep together.

Adlia in winter is prone to depression and often needs company or work.Before he fell asleep, he thought that if he went on a business trip in winter in the future, it would not be particularly important, and it would be better to refuse.

When I woke up, my arms were empty.Sherlock frowned, reached out and looked around, but found nothing.

His brain broke free from the chaos, and he opened his eyes. Everything in his vision was familiar and strange—this was the room he lived in when he first moved into Baker Street, and even the decoration hadn't changed much.

Is it a Christmas surprise?He stood up suddenly, feeling some bad intuitions in his heart, or a dreamlike trance.

"Adelia?" He called tentatively, but no one responded.

Pushing open the door, Watson had just finished his breakfast and was smoking a cigarette with a sleepy expression: "Did you say something in the room? I didn't hear clearly."

Sherlock couldn't describe the shock at that moment. The living room in front of him was completely different from his memory. It was full of Sherlock's mess everywhere, with newspapers flying all over the sky, documents stacked in a mess, and knives stuck on the table. And the tobacco in the slippers--if Adelia had known, she would have put the slippers with him in the fireplace!

Out of a detective's instinct, he didn't ask any direct questions. He was clearly in his own home, but he seemed to be looking at an unfamiliar environment.

The corners of his mouth drooped, showing that he was not in a very good mood, and he didn't have time to order breakfast, so he silently started sorting the newspapers.

"Holmes, the sun is really coming out from the west." Watson was reading the newspaper with his legs crossed, but now he put it down. "You actually want to tidy up, my God."

Sherlock really wanted to reply a joke freely, but he couldn't say it, he just quietly tried to find the information he wanted from the newspaper, but the more he looked at him, the worse his expression became.

This is a paper from around the time of the Milverton case.How is this going?

The detective's brain was a little messed up, and he couldn't extract any traces or clues about her.

"Is she still in Kent?" he asked suddenly.

"Who?" Watson couldn't figure it out.

"Adelia Hudson, Rhea Heston, or Adrian, whatever it is," his jaw clenched. "Where is she?"

He suddenly realized the problem, looked up and suddenly found that the piggy bank on the table had disappeared, his heartbeat almost stopped for half a beat, and he walked to the desk in a few steps and opened the drawer. Her photos were gone, and the notebook was gone. Even the pipes—the pipes were still there, but the packaging and her quips about "smoking is bad for your health" were gone.

She is gone.

Who should he ask?

For the first time, the delicate mind stopped completely, like a deserted train, a stopped clock.He stared at the dazed Watson in a daze, and then unconsciously turned his gaze back to the unfamiliar but familiar drawer, which was empty for a while, not knowing what to do.

There was a knock at the door, and he didn't want to greet it.

Watson felt that his friend was not in the right state this morning. In theory he should have relaxed after Milverton's death last night, but he looked more tense.Maybe it's a new mystery, maybe it's something unfinished, Watson speculates in his heart, but he still retains his thoughtfulness as a friend and doesn't interfere with Sherlock's reverie.

But the peaceful morning is always spoiled by the presence of Mr. Lestrade from Scotland Yard.

It has to be said that Watson was a little nervous in his heart - if someone really exposed him, not only would he and Holmes be charged with the felony of burglary|robbery|robbery, maybe even Milverton's death would have to be blamed on them .

"Good morning, Mr. Holmes, are you busy?" Lestrade had found a seat for himself and sat down very skillfully.

Sherlock looked up and looked at Lestrade, who was a few years younger: "Barely free."

"You should know that Milverton, who was extorting, was killed at his home yesterday, but all his letters of extortion have been burned by criminals." Lestrade said succinctly.

No—isn't that so?A voice inside him said.He was obviously killed after the letter was lost, and the letter was brought back and burned——

"Criminals? Looks like you have enough clues," he said.

"Two, almost caught on the spot, the first one was quick and quick, the second was caught by the gardener and struggled to escape, medium height, strong build, square jaw, thick neck, mustache, wearing a mask."

Sherlock glanced at Watson inadvertently: "Huh? You seem to be talking about Watson?"

Lestrade was also amused by the joke, and he wanted to say something, but was suddenly interrupted by the detective.

"Have you heard of Adrian Hudson?" Sherlock realized that he was extremely nervous.

"No...?" Lestrade asked puzzled, "Is this your new criminal?"

Sherlock opened his mouth, but couldn't explain it. It took him a few seconds to find his voice: "I know something about Milverton, and I hate what he did. I won't take this case, please go back Bar."

Watson would have expected his roommate to have breakfast after rejecting Lestrade - but he didn't.He dragged out a box from nowhere, and rummaged through the documents inside.His state looks really bad, even if he is dull, he should find it.

"Holmes, you don't look well," Watson said with concern. "Perhaps you need to take a good rest?"

In Sherlock's hand was holding the record of the Musgrave ceremony, which was complete and without her trace.

His eyes were empty, and his voice seemed to have never woken up.

"I'm on the edge of dream and reality," he heard his own voice, "I can't tell the difference."

Almost for the first time he felt a feeling of timidity.

Fear that everything will be different from his memory, and fear that everything will be the same except about her.

He couldn't tell the difference between dream and reality, and he found it almost in a daze.

I just want to find the world with her.

The author says:

Your little cutie suddenly appears!Send a candy and send a knife~

btw冬奥会开幕真好看啊！感谢在2022-01-3023:58:20~2022-02-0421:52:21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 rocket launcher: Lin Nansheng 1;

Thanks to the little angel who threw the grenade: Beatrice.M.H1;

Thanks to the little angels who threw the mines: 2 cuckoos, cuckoos, cuckoos; 1 small Dongdong, Wang Qiqi, Benqi, and Immortal;

感谢灌溉营养液的小天使：Beatrice.M.H66瓶；艾尔莫49瓶；今天也没自杀成功、□□20瓶；游辞4瓶；艺艺3瓶；DoloresL、披着凉皮的米线1瓶；

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