My Detective Roommate [Sherlock Holmes]

The weather on this day was gloomy and ominous. At seven o'clock in the morning, there was some snow again, but it was much smaller than the day when Professor Parker died.

Sherlock told Stilton on leave to attend the funeral of Professor Parker, but his friend refused to go with him.

Professor Parker once said that he would donate his body to the medical school and dedicate the last part of himself to his beloved cause, but the family finally refused.At this moment, his body lay peacefully in the coffin and was carried to the plain carriage.

At ten o'clock in the morning, the church bell rang, and the sound of horseshoes seemed extremely heavy today.Many of Professor Parker's students and patients followed the carriage quietly, with sad and solemn expressions, and followed into the church.

Sherlock was also among the crowd. He had his unique understanding of life, old age, sickness and death. Although he didn't particularly care about various rituals, he was willing to sing hymns for this doctor who dedicated his life to medicine.The pastor kept a sad calm and read the life of Professor Parker. Professor Wycombe and Lane, including Wellington, also came to the stage to give speeches.

Professor Parker's death was so sudden and so sad that although several doctors kept calm, many people in the audience were crying.

His friend didn't seem to show up.

Even Sherlock was a little uncertain whether Adrian would show up again.

The snow gradually stopped.Sherlock followed the people to the cemetery and witnessed the coffin being put into the grave in the voice of the priest praying.Mrs. Parker wept bitterly and knelt down beside the grave. Professor Wycombe comforted her in a low voice, but his eyes could not conceal the sadness.

Many people brought white lilies spontaneously, but only one bearded man brought a handful of red roses, which made him look a bit abrupt.

It was not difficult for Sherlock to guess that this was the patient Adrian had mentioned.

Sherlock lined up, also bowed deeply to the tombstone, and decided to leave.

But before he left, he looked back and suddenly found a few dried pink flowers among the white flowers of a person.

He realized something, and quickly walked out of the cemetery - he found a carriage that didn't seem to have been parked for a long time, and there was not even a layer of snow on the roof.And his friend was sitting in the carriage, looking like a winter cedar.

"I knew you would come," he broke his friend's sad and happy expression, paused, and asked again, "won't you go in and have a look?"

Adlia's action was half a beat late, and she stretched out her hand to pull Sherlock into the carriage. The long blanket divided him in half and closed the carriage door.

There is still a long line of people at the gate of the cemetery.

"No," Adelia shook her head. Her heart was equally heavy, but she didn't mention it. She only said unimportant things. "My experiment is not finished yet."

She obviously couldn't let go of this matter, and came out in a hurry during the noon break.Winter didn't seem to give her any additional feeling of cold. Although Adlia's face was already pale from the wind and her hands were blue from the cold, she didn't show any signs of shivering.

It's not that I'm not afraid of the cold, it's just that I lose consciousness.

Sherlock sighed, took off his scarf and handed it to his friend.

"They will all remember Professor Parker, and this may be what it means to be a doctor." He held out his hand, but his friend didn't accept it.

"No need, it will be there in a while."

"I'm afraid you'll be freezing in the carriage before we get there."

Sherlock had nothing to do with his friend's stubbornness, so he hung the scarf roughly around her neck rather forcefully, and after taking a look at it, wrapped the remaining piece around her chin like a bandage. He coiled a circle over his head to slightly protect his friend's poor little red ears from the cold.

——His friend did not know how long he suffered from the cold.

She tried to push him, but her hands were too cold, which strengthened Sherlock's idea of ​​letting the scarf out.

"You are too rude, Holmes." She wanted to take off the scarf, but was held down by Sherlock.

"I don't want Adrian, who is weak, to get sick again after returning home. I still have new commissions waiting for my assistant to work."

"I'm not your assistant." Her whole head was almost wrapped under his temperature, and her voice might be weak due to the tears she held back or the strong cold wind, "Can you open it?" Ask for my salary."

"If Adrian's salary is calculated according to the tip he gave me, 3 pence can't be more, and I can still pay it."

Adelia was at a loss for words for a moment, but couldn't think of how to refute.

The two sat in the carriage silently, listening to the rattling of the horse's hooves, swaying and thinking about their own thoughts.

After a long time, Adlia finally reached out and took off the scarf, and returned it to Sherlock: "Thank you."

Then she stopped the carriage and jumped down first. After paying the money, she told the coachman the destination of Sherlock and waved goodbye to him.

Sherlock looked at the scarf in his hand and squeezed it. I'm afraid his scarf didn't bring more warmth to his friend. This dark scarf only dyed some cold temperature.

"It's really cold this winter." He muttered, wrapping the scarf around his neck again - he knew that his friend's "thank you" was not just for the scarf.

The carriage started moving again.

Adlia had already walked a certain distance, and then looked back at the carriage until the carriage disappeared from her vision.Out of the warmth, she shrank her neck in the cold wind.

She seemed unable to equate the person in front of her with the great detective written in the book. Sherlock Holmes in her memory should be extremely intelligent, eccentric, and unreasonable.

But she always seemed to draw strength and warmth from this man.

Another gust of cold wind blew, and Adelia shivered and walked quickly to the laboratory.

When this experiment is over, take a vacation, go to a warm place, and hide this winter.

After this day, Sherlock hadn't seen his friend who claimed to never work overtime get off work on time for several days in a row. Leaning lazily on the sofa in a daze.

"very tired?"

"Ah."

"Working overtime again?"

"Obviously."

During this period of time, even if they met occasionally, there were only such conversations, and Sherlock could feel that his friend was exhausted to the limit.But Sherlock was not idle, and he discovered a new pleasure, which was to fight boxing matches in Allison's arena as an amateur boxer.

There is only a little more than a week before Christmas, and Sherlock only remembered when he heard people discussing how to spend Christmas after his game, that he had forgotten about it.

"Where do you all go to buy Christmas presents?" he casually chatted with the referee.

"Ah, Thanksgiving is long past, did you just remember that? Holmes," said the short, sturdy McMurdo, elbowing him on the shoulder. "A fine gentleman like you will certainly not lack for ladies' pursuits." Bar?"

Sherlock smiled, but did not answer. In fact, he was not interested in these things: "I want to buy some gifts for my friends and the landlady, ah, or my brother by the way."

"Maybe you can go to the Kameji department store," the boxer still suggested, "but I suggest you deal with the wound on your face first."

Only then did Sherlock touch his cheekbones, and then looked at his fingertips. Sure enough, there were some blood stains, which should not have been injured during the competition: "It's okay, my friend is a professional doctor."

Adelia finally rushed to finish her work before Christmas and took a vacation.I was home at four o'clock today.The big detective didn't know what he had experienced in the past two weeks, and newspaper files were flying all over the sky again.

Fortunately, she was in a good mood, and she was tidying up slowly while waiting for dinner.Ever since she knew that Sherlock Holmes was the same Sherlock Holmes, Adlia's tolerance for him had greatly increased.

Just like every director in a hospital has a unique personality, the big detective's petty temper deserves to be tolerated a little.

In fact, she was a little sleepy and wanted to sleep, but she didn't know why, and she always wanted to wait for her detective roommate to come back and tell him that she was going on vacation.

—even though she didn't like working, she seemed quite willing to solve the case with him.

Oh, she hasn't had time to write "A Study in Scarlet", and this detective who has not yet become famous may not have enough commissions to bring her along.

Thinking of this, she couldn't help but smile slightly... Maybe it's because Sherlock himself didn't accept the case of "A Study in Scarlet".

Just after dinner, her friend hadn't come back yet, so Adlia went out for a shilling walk in boredom, and when she came back, she sorted out the newspapers collected by Sherlock and put them in his wooden box. As a friend, she began to try to make the Musgrave ceremony case into a story.

It's a pity that she really lacks literary literacy. While writing, she doubted whether she was Watson, and even fell asleep lying on the table like that.

When Sherlock came back with the gift, he saw such a scene.

Under the dim candlelight, his friend was lying on the table still holding a pen, his hair a little messy.

His first instinct was that the other party had lost a lot of weight.

He pushed open the door of his room softly, put the gift down behind the door, and then took off his coat and scarf and walked to his friend.Leaning closer, it is not difficult to see what the other party is doing. The title on the paper is "The Musgrave Ceremony", and it would be lazy to use his name directly.Sherlock couldn't help but put on a little smile.Someone who always said he was not interested secretly wrote a novel based on his story.

He didn't intend to wake up the other party, but Adlia woke up as if feeling something.

"Sherlock, are you back?" Her voice was still hazy.

Sherlock raised his eyebrows—it was rare to hear Adrian call his name directly. He hummed, threw the blanket he had just taken out on his friend, and sat back on his sofa.

Adlia didn't realize that she was not calling Sherlock Holmes, but Sherlock—when she was writing the story, she was thinking of the story she had read before, and she accidentally called it wrong, but she didn't notice it.

She moved her stiff neck, and then she noticed that there seemed to be a scar on Sherlock's face: "Are you injured? Is there any commission for you to chase down the suspect today?"

She hadn't fully woken up yet, and she almost used too much force when she stood up. She rubbed her browbones to regain consciousness before continuing with the next sentence: "Have you dealt with it?"

All her movements were under his eyes, which aroused some smiles in him.

"If I knew my friend was a good doctor, I wouldn't do it on my own."

"I'm not your personal doctor!"

She muttered with some dissatisfaction, she went into her room after all, and came out with cotton balls and iodine. She looked up at the time, and it was past nine o'clock.

"So what did you do?"

"Boxing, did I not tell you, I'm still a light-weight boxer." Sherlock put his hands at his sides, turning to Adlia so she could take the medicine better.

For some reason, Adelia remembered the time when she helped him put on makeup. This time, what she got very close to was his real face, which seemed softer than her impression.Perhaps in order to cooperate with her, his movements are even a little strangely obedient.

——Is this the treatment of friends?

"I should have a good discussion with you about the consequences of swinging a fist with no eyes to different positions of your head." Adelia waved away her random thoughts and picked up a new topic. She was surprised to find that she There are still residual impressions of neuroanatomy in the mind.

"I will naturally protect my precious brain. This injury was accidentally scratched when I was leaving the field."

"If I understand correctly, Mr. Boxer was not injured on the stage, but was scratched when he left the stage?" Adelia couldn't help but feel a little helpless.

Sherlock's brows and eyes were slightly pressed: "I'm sorry, yes."

The two looked at each other and laughed at the same time.

After Adlia scrubbed his wound twice with normal saline, she picked up the cotton ball soaked in iodine with tweezers in her right hand: "It will hurt, bear with it."

At the same time, he gently supported his head with his left hand.

When the cotton ball touched his wound, he couldn't help taking a breath and dodging back, but he didn't want to be intercepted by Adlia, who had expected it for a long time.

"You're persecuting me, sir." Sherlock said dissatisfiedly.

Adelia's smile has not faded from her face: "Maybe, but you deserve it, detective."

Outside the window, Xing Xing talked to Xing Xing.

The author says:

The last sentence comes from the Russian poet Lermontov "I walk alone on the road"

The short and strong McMurdo is a character who appeared in the four autographs!Lao Fu is about to start boxing at this time! btw Lao Fu has analyzed the personality, appearance and reasons of boxers several times, but he himself is quite enthusiastic about this sport, maybe he is bold and skilled.

Ah, I really like writing about daily life, please sweeten me up (press your head!

Adelia - numb to the cold → harvest the scarf to feel warm → return the scarf → feel cold

感谢在2021-12-0123:10:20~2021-12-0222:54:34期间为我投出霸王票或灌溉营养液的小天使哦~

Thanks to the little angels who irrigate the nutrient solution: 20 bottles of Chen Chuanliu; 1 bottle of rice noodles with cold skin;

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