Boyfriend Development Program

Seamus walked out of the library and found a black car on the other side of the road, with a woman playing with her mobile phone leaning against the car.

The legendary "Blackberry Sister".The legend, of course, comes from that amiable and respectable little man.

Without the slightest hesitation, the curly-haired boy calmly walked towards the established road. Obviously, the eye-catching car on the road did not arouse any interest in him.

"Mr.holmes." Sister Blackberry finally moved her eyes away from her beloved mobile phone, and glanced at Seamus calmly. She put away her mobile phone, opened the car door, and half-bent down in a gesture of invitation, "Please get in the car."

Seamus walked past the woman with his head held high and without squinting, only condescending to glance at the black car in the middle, with a trace of obvious disdain in his almost transparent pupils. "No." His voice was clearly audible in the air, "I'll drive there by myself later."

Sister Blackberry looked at him for a while, nodded, and left without saying anything.

"Hmph, damn fat man!"

Seamus pursed his lips and glanced at the disappearing car, then kicked the stones on the side of the road viciously.

……

Twenty minutes later.It was still mycroft's office.

Seamus sat on the chair with a big thorn, his head in his hands, and his feet rested impatiently on the desk of the British government.The chair wheels turned back and forth, and the sharp creaking sound caused Mycroft, who was sitting on the other side of the desk, to frown.He pressed his temples with his hands, and sighed in a low voice: "Can't you be quiet?"

"How is your weight loss business going?" The curly-haired boy didn't stop shaking the chair, but asked when he turned to mycroft, his tone indifferent.

"It's going well, Seamus." Mycroft took his sarcasm gracefully, replying word for word.

As soon as the voice fell, the curly-haired boy suddenly stopped all his movements.He straightened his back, leaned forward slightly, raised his head and looked coldly at someone who became a little uncomfortable because of his actions.As time passed, the light in the room gradually dimmed unknowingly. He looked at Mycroft, his gray-green eyes became more and more obscure under the dimming light.

There are some emotional ups and downs in it. Mycroft couldn't tell.

"Sherlock." Seamus looked at him coldly, and said coldly.

The corner of his mouth twitched imperceptibly, and his heart sank even more suddenly. "What?" Mycroft didn't show his face, just tilted his head, looked at the curly-haired boy with an unblinking smile, and asked calmly, as if he really didn't understand what the other person was talking about.

——Perfect camouflage!

Seamus glanced at the other party and sneered.Enraged by mycroft's attitude, he suddenly withdrew his foot from the table and jumped up, like a cat with its hair blown.The curly-haired boy slammed the table, leaning forward until he was infinitely approaching the man opposite him—his brother, and then suddenly bounced back the moment he was about to approach him, with an exaggerated disgust on his face. Seamus blurted out sharp words: "I am Sherloes!"

"When did you find out?" Mycroft's smile froze for a moment, but soon returned to normal, "I thought it would take a while for you to find out."

"Hmph." Seamus—oh, it should be called Sherlock now—pushed away the chair he was sitting on, pacing back and forth irritably rubbing his curly hair.He stopped, slapped his hands on the table vigorously, and yelled impatiently at Mycroft, who was sitting upright, "If it wasn't for the fact that the matter of becoming smaller and amnesia is so unbelievable, and I am obsessed with complete evidence, it would take me so How long did it take to be sure?—what a disgrace! A disgrace!"

"Do you remember anything?" Mycroft's expression was still calm and steady, but the impatience in his tone betrayed the urgency in his heart, "Everything that happened before I became smaller? Why did I become smaller? Anything?"

"No! Nothing at all!" Sherlock became even more irritable, and he ruffled his hair as if venting his anger.The next second, he slammed back into the chair, and collapsed there powerlessly, his gray-green pupils were slack and lifeless, "Damn it, even my thinking palace has collapsed! I have to rebuild it! A nightmare! What a nightmare!" A nightmare! God!!" Shouting here, Sherlock began to toss his curly hair again. ——This series of actions made Mycroft both amused and worried.

"Oh come on, put away your ridiculous conjectures." Sherlock glanced at him, ruffled his hair with his hands, and sat upright, with a quick smirk on his face, "I'm not like a certain People, hairline regression is directly proportional to body weight."

"Warning you again, Sherlock, don't talk about my weight and hairline! Mommy won't like sons who are always arguing. You know, it will only make her sad and worried." Mycroft couldn't bear it anymore, and finally opened his mouth to refute.He has to admit that Sherlock will always be Sherlock, even if he loses his memory and shrinks his body, his "cute" brother will never change his bad nature.

"Who on earth is worrying her?... Me?" Sherlock looked at his brother with an incredulous look, as if observing some alien who strayed into the earth, "It's not me she's worried about, it's you , mycroft."

Sherlock thought that the other party would come back with irony, or at least wear a meaningful and hateful smile. In fact, if he read correctly, Mycroft's eyes lit up the moment he finished speaking . — This is very suspicious.Instinctively aware of this, Sherlock immediately became vigilant, his body tensed, and even his pupils condensed slightly.

"My dear brother, I won't do anything to you." Mycroft shrugged, "But did you realize that what you said just now sounds familiar? About Mommy?"

"I have no memory. I don't even remember what my mother looks like now." Sherlock's thin lips were tightly pursed, and the arc of his face was tense.He paused, and a quick expression flashed across his pale face, too fast to tell, "I'm just... 'acting'."

"Don't be sad, Sherly." Mycroft sighed.

"I'm not sad at all!" Sherlock retorted loudly without hesitation, "And don't call me Sherly!"

"I really don't have any memory at all?" Mycroft did not give up, and asked again with a serious expression, "It's completely blank? Can't remember anything?"

"Occasionally, I can think of some vague fragments." After hesitating for a while, Sherlock finally replied hesitantly, "Some things about John, as well as experiments, work, and jumping off a building also have some vague impressions."

"Where is Dr. Watson...?"

"Now is not the time." Mentioning John, Sherlock's face was a little unhappy.He pursed his lips, and quickly made this decision expressionlessly, "I'll tell him when I regain my memory, or when it's appropriate."

--really……

Mycroft sighed secretly from the bottom of his heart, with a smirk still on his face: It's just that, dear Sherlock, I'm afraid that things will be self-defeating instead.That's all, let's raise the surveillance level by one more level. ——Thinking about it in my heart, but I didn't mention it in my mouth, after all, this is the matter of those two people.

"By the way, mycroft, do you know Colonel Jabsp; Harkness? According to my analysis, it should belong to a mysterious organization of the British government."

"Colonel Jabsp; Harkness?" Mycroft's smile suddenly froze on his face, "Why ask about him?"

"He was the first person I saw when I woke up. Of course, with the ability of the British government, it is estimated that it will be found within a few hours after my first appearance." The corners of the curly-haired boy's lips curled up gracefully, Draw a casual mocking arc, "You are indeed good at disguising, but some small details, mycroft, you obviously can't hide enough. Don't forget, you are sitting opposite to Sherloes! You heard me talking about Colonel Jabsp; Harkness's body Tightening up a bit, pointing out the toes to indicate an inner desire to leave, or get out of the subject. Ok, obviously you know this guy. And it's weird, I can't find any information about Jack on the Internet, plus my interpretation of him. The mysterious organization of the British government should have very high authority, so high that you need to be afraid. So, who is he?"

Not half surprised, Mycroft gave Sherlock a meaningful look: "Torchwood Cardiff squad leader. In a sense, he can be regarded as the leader of the British Torchwood organization."

"that's it?"

"As you said, the authority is not enough." The smile on Mycroft's face became brighter, "I only hold the last position in the British government."

"Can I get in touch?"

"It's hard. And to be honest, I really don't want to have anything to do with that organization."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes and said nothing.Vaguely, he had a premonition that he and the man named Jack would meet again soon.The curly-haired boy clasped his hands together and put them on his chin like a spire. —Obviously, he has fallen into deep thought. Mycroft did not speak again.Silence inevitably spread in the huge room.

After an unknown amount of time, Sherlock broke away from his thoughts.Taking a look at the sky, I don't know when the last ray of light from the sky has disappeared, and the surrounding area is already half dark. ——Been out long enough, if you don't go back, John should worry again.Thinking of this, he got up and prepared to leave. Mycroft took an object from the drawer and walked over to him just in time: "Sherlock, take this."

"What's this?" Sherlock stared intently at what Mycroft handed over, his eyes as if he wanted to burn a hole in the metal thing.After a while, he asked hesitantly, "... a game console?" The moment he realized what it was, he exclaimed: "mycroft, my body is just getting smaller, it doesn't mean my age is getting younger! iamnotakid (I... It is a Xiao child)!"

"Of course I know you're not a child." Mycroft still didn't change his expression when facing his furious younger brother, and even moved the game console closer. The market and potential of gaming consoles.”

"I'm very busy! It has nothing to do with whoever you want!" Sherlock pushed the game console away with a look of disgust.

"What are you busy with?" Mycroft couldn't help holding back a smile, remembering all the scenes he saw on the monitor, "Busy playing dead?"

"Get out!" Sherlock glared.

"How about making a deal?" Mycroft smiled mysteriously, "You figure out the potential of this game for me, and I help you keep the secret that you are Sherlock from Dr. Watson? As a unique consulting detective, Presumably you can figure everything out in a short period of time. You are not at a loss in this deal."

Hearing this, Sherlock stared at Mycroft for a long time before angrily snatching it away: "Deal!"

Seeing that his goal was achieved, Mycroft smiled like a flower, causing Sherlock to stay away from him again.Now Sherlock was not in a hurry to leave, he glanced at his brother, and played with the game console for a while with no expression on his face: he threw it up, caught it at the moment it fell, threw it up again, caught it again... So cycle.After catching the game console firmly again, he said coldly, "It's not just that simple, is it?"

"I suspect that this is not just a game console." Mycroft's expression became serious, "The Prime Minister said that this is a new technology. The prehistoric civilization excavated from a ruin will benefit the whole people if it is done well. Before Several people have tested it, but the situation is very bad. Either their temperament changed drastically, became more extreme, or they disappeared and went crazy or even died. Moreover, I accidentally discovered that John also has such a game console. —— This is very strange, a game console It has never been circulated to the outside. I suspect that there is something jjj behind it. Anyway, Sherlock, this matter is left to you."

——Also, I accidentally discovered that John also has such a game console.

Sherlock's complexion changed, and he squeezed the game console in his hand, the sharp extension burned into his palm, causing a sharp pain.

"understood."

Eighth Girl ([-])

Saturday afternoon, living room.

At the beginning of August, the warmth of summer did not bring much change to the weather in London, and the shadows spread over the whole city as usual. John and Sherlock each snuggled up on their usual sofas. John casually flipped through the newspapers of the day, occasionally sneaking a glance at the curly-haired boy who was concentrating on the game console in his hand. — sometimes frowning, sometimes grunting, sometimes cursing something in a low voice.Obviously, the opponent is very focused on the game console in his hand.

—… Is the sun rising in London?

John glanced out the window and nodded calmly: "Good, it's another damn rainy day."He lowered his head and continued to read the newspaper, twirling on the same line for a while, he couldn't help but look up at Sherlock again, still concentrating so damn hard.

He decided to break the eerie silence.

"So." John licked his lips unconsciously, pretending to be calm and said, "What is that?"

Sherlock raised his head, followed John's gaze to look at his hands, and quickly pursed his lips into a smile: "Game console, obviously." After speaking, he lowered his head and concentrated on fiddling with the game console in his hand.

……I know.

John opened his mouth, and after seeing the fluffy curly hair of the other party, he suddenly lost his words. "Allright (very correct)." He replied slowly.

Curled into a ball, thick short hair, indifferent expression... Even without the smudge of the sun, John can clearly feel the similarity between the boy opposite and Sherlock.For a moment, he was in a trance, and even thought it was Sherlock who was sitting opposite him.It felt weird, like Sherlock had never left and never would.

Moving the corners of his mouth, John quickly recovered from his trance, looked at the curly-haired boy again, and his mood had changed.He remembered that he didn't miss Sherlock as much as he used to (oh god, or is it more appropriate to use "reminiscence"?) Sherlock, the frequency dropped from every few minutes to occasionally a few times a day... well, well, this is a Huge improvement.When did it start?He tilted his head, and his gaze involuntarily fell on the curly-haired boy again. - Oh yes, yes, since seamus moved in.That's it.

A flash of astonishment flashed across the face of the little man, and he quickly erected the newspaper to cover his face, and by the way, blocked his sight of the curly-haired boy: It only took about ten days for him to get used to Seamus's Existence, the speed is comparable to the Sherlock I met back then.So, the Holmes stunt?His "crisis of trust" has been completely cured?Or, pass on the crisis?

"This unscientific!"

John was contemplating this head, when suddenly an angry growl sounded in his ear.Then there was a "boom", the sound of metal falling to the ground. John threw away the newspaper reflexively, and looked up at the curly-haired boy.I saw the other party rubbing his curly hair irritably, then slumped heavily on the sofa, staring nervously at the game console that he dropped on the carpet (don’t doubt, the previous “boom” sound was the poor game console being knocked down). The sound of falling to the ground), growled in a tone that was about to be driven crazy: "How can there be such a stupid game? Solve the case? Please! A normal person can hit the victim's head with a fishing rod from 50 meters away Successful murder? Ha! It is more believable to say that the victim took the initiative to get close and was smashed to death by a fishing rod! Tsk tsk tsk, and! According to the law of optical reflection, the normal reflected by the mirror is obviously downward, how can it run up to kill? Dead target character? Oh my god, I'm going crazy! Are the game developers trying to rewrite all the crime-solving related words in the dictionary into derogatory terms?!"

"Pfft...cough cough." John laughed involuntarily as he listened.He quickly realized his gaffe, and coughed twice to cover up.

"John, don't hold back your laughter if you want to laugh!" Sherlock rolled his eyes and glanced at John, "Be careful to hold back your IQ. I don't want your ridiculous little head to become ridiculous and stupid."

"..." John choked for a moment, and now he really couldn't laugh. ——good, green out of blue and better than blue's poisonous tongue.He paused, and retorted unceremoniously, "Your intelligence is reflected in your long face."

"yes. so what (so what)!"

Sherlock straightened up, gave John a haughty look, changed from a sitting posture to a standing posture, stepped on the coffee table with his bare feet, and stepped on the ground smoothly.With a look of disgust, he used his index finger and thumb to pinch the game console that was miraculously functioning when he dropped it on the ground, and pulled it closer, and then pulled it closer until his face was almost touching the screen, then he stopped all movements, using a transparent green His eyes stared coldly at the villain who resembled him on the screen of the game console.

John stared dumbfounded at all this, and finally covered his face powerlessly the moment he saw the curly-haired boy's face tightly covering the game console screen. —Oh God. John shrugged his shoulders suspiciously, and moaned inwardly.

(Jesus, I didn't laugh at the horse-faced star! Please look at my upright and serious face! ← John's mental activities at this moment, and he seems to have forgotten that his face has been tightly covered by his hands... ...)

"Hmph!" With just one glance, Sherlock could see John's inner thoughts clearly.He snorted coldly, and continued to fiddle with the game console in his hand.

"I remember, you just doubted the IQ of the game developer?" John managed to hold back his smile, raised his head and asked a serious question.

"There is such a thing."

John pointed to the game console in Sherlock's hand: "Then why...?"

"Entrusted by someone." Sherlock glared at John angrily, gritted his teeth and said, "Damn fat man!"

"Fat man?"

"mycroft!"

"Oh." John had an epiphany, anyway, he was used to the "mortal enemy" relationship between Sherlock and Mycroft, and he didn't mind adding Seamus.Soon, his gaze naturally fell on the curly-haired boy's hand again.

When he came into close contact with the opponent's game console again, John's eyes froze for a moment. I don't know if it was his illusion, but he always felt that the game console in Sherlock's hand was very similar to his own.Oh wrong, it is very similar to the one I "fantasized".There is also the villain inside, no matter how you look at it, it looks like a shrunken version of Sherlock... John frowned and stared at the game console in the curly-haired boy's hand full of doubts: Another common point, is this also his fantasy?Or is it a character image set by seamus?

—John was doubting.

Aware of this, Sherlock paused and quietly blocked the little man's sight.Almost drifting towards the sofa, Sherlock's foot stepped on a foreign object halfway, and he stopped, condescending to glance down: a newspaper. The newspaper that John read with gusto before.

Sherlock suddenly became interested, squatted down, pinched his booty with two fingers, carried out the drift plan again, and finally successfully slid onto the sofa.

"Seamus, this is my newspaper!" John helplessly looked at the boy who was looking at the newspaper with a smug face.In exchange for the muffled voice of the other party: "John, coffee."

—he knew it!Humph, he knew it!

John stared at the bunch of curly hair exposed from the newspaper, and repeated bitterly in his heart.Still, he got up resignedly, and limped on crutches to the kitchen.It takes 3 minutes to boil water and 25 seconds to successfully brew coffee. John intends to use these 3 minutes and 25 seconds to think about a philosophical question.In fact, it had only been 47 seconds before Curly, nestled comfortably on the sofa in the living room, began calling out to him in a high-pitched, high-pitched voice: "John! John!"

"What's the matter?!" John gave up the philosophical questions in his head, poked his head out and yelled back.

"Come on and read the newspaper! Come on!"

"For God's sake, Seamus, I'm making you coffee!"

"Never mind the coffee! Come here!" John could even hear the curly-haired boy whirling around in the living room—exactly like the first time he saw Sherlock solve the case, ecstatic like a child who got his favorite toy ( This metaphor is called seamus now, John smiled when he thought of it), "The blond beauty has evaporated again! Oh oh, it's the third time, the victim looks exactly the same, the height and weight are the same, what a precise way to choose! No No body, no body parts, no clues, no crime scene, nothing... Oh God, what a case! Christmas, it's Christmas!"

The extremely familiar words, the extremely familiar tone, the extremely familiar ecstasy...

For a moment, John felt the bitterness in his mouth was unbearable.Soon, the water boiled.He turned off the power in a daze, and slowly poured boiling water into the mug he had prepared earlier.

"Wow—"

The sound woke up the little man, and John came back to his senses, realizing that the water was overfilled unconsciously, and the coffee overflowed from the mug, spilling all over the black marble counter.

Large patches of brown, like coagulated blood.Weird and complicated.

well.Staring blankly at the brown liquid for a long time, John blinked his sour eyes, and there was a voice whispering in his heart: extreme enthusiasm for the case, ok, another commonality.

Eighth Girl ([-])

The excitement in the living room stopped abruptly.

John turned his head again in surprise, and unexpectedly saw the curly-haired boy pursing his lips, opening a corner of the curtain, and looking downstairs coldly with a complicated expression (some depressed? Some excited? He couldn't tell). John tilted his head and thought for a while, and decided to attribute all this to the symptoms of the intermittent convulsion syndrome in the Holmes family.Looking at the overflowing brown liquid, the little man shuddered as if stung by a wasp, and quickly wiped everything with a rag.A few seconds later, he calmly returned to the living room with the coffee in his hand, and put the coffee on the coffee table.

Sherlock had already sat quietly on his usual sofa, with his hands clasped under his chin, but his gray-green eyes were like sharp vultures, tightly grasping the direction of the door, as if waiting for someone to come.

John glanced at the empty door suspiciously: "Is there anyone coming?"

"Hmm." Sherlock picked up the coffee and uttered a syllable casually through his nasal cavity.After taking a sip, he stopped suddenly, looked away from the door, and glanced up and down at John with a strange expression.In an instant, a gleam of light burst into the eyes, as if they were instantly ignited.

"What's the matter?" Under the almost sharp gaze, John couldn't help but took a step back, and asked back with a little guilty conscience. ——He didn't know what those Sherlock-like eyes, which could see other people's soul clearly with just one glance, saw in him at this moment.

"It's okay." Sherlock raised his brows, and his pale face seemed to have a slight look.He looked at John, "What's going on?" John thought the curly-haired boy was talking to him, he was about to retort, but the address he heard the next second made his words stuck in his throat: "Inspector Lestrade?"

John turned his head, and Lestrade was looking at them with a nervous expression on his face,—oh, of course, the most important thing is Seamus. John looked at the curly-haired boy who was still looking directly at him, then at Lestrade, paused, and got out of the way he was blocking.

On this side, seeing the little man with his mouth open like a dumb and stupid teddy bear, Sherlock suppressed a smile, his calm face distorted slightly.He glanced at the police detective who stood at the door looking at him a little at a loss, and instantly understood the next move of the other party, and the fingers in his pockets flew quickly.The moment the finger pressed the "send" button, the text message from the man opposite rang.

"Sher..." Lestrade opened his mouth and uttered a syllable, which was interrupted by the sound of a text message the next second.He looked at the phone suspiciously: seamusholmes.—sh

—oh yes, seamusholmes!Damn it, how long is he going to hide it!Why didn't you tell john, didn't you tell mrs.hudson?Didn't he see how sad they were? !

"Sher what?" John asked hesitantly.The heart beat wildly at the moment of hearing this pronunciation.

"John, don't get excited." Sherlcok covered it indifferently, and his fingers danced quickly again, "Inspector Lestrade probably thinks of me as Sherlock just like you. Don't you, Inspector Lestrade?"

The text message sounded again: the time has not come, cooperate. —sh

"Yes, of course." Lestrade glared at Sherlock angrily, "Mycroft said you are Sherlock's nephew Seamus."

"Inspector Lestrade, please sit down."

Lestrade didn't need to look to know that it was absolutely impossible for him to be greeted so warmly by some sociopath.Sure enough, when he took a closer look, Sherlock's right hand took a white cloth and wiped the violin bow on his left hand repeatedly, with a focused expression and fixed eyes.Creating the "illusion of death" without authorization, deliberately pretending to be another person, and being arrogant and selfish... The inspector took a deep breath, resisted the urge to punch Sherlock, and vented his anger on his feet.Step by step, until he sat down on the sofa, he didn't attract the slightest attention from the bastard opposite. Lestrade was finally discouraged.

"Seamus!" John couldn't stand it anymore.

Sherlock's hand paused, and he asked blankly, "Is there something important?"

"Have you seen the case in the newspaper?"

Lestrade glanced at John calmly, and there was a little strangeness in his calm eyes: Sherlock trusted John with all his heart, no matter before or after amnesia, is it really as mycroft said...

"The fourth 'evaporation' case?" Sherlock poked the newspaper under the coffee with his bow, and the word "evaporation" was marked in bold and large in the middle, "When did it happen?"

"The alarm was received 10 minutes ago." Lestrade thought about his choice of words, "But the time of the incident was..."

"Friday." Sherlock interrupted the detective roughly, "It takes at least 48 hours to report a missing person. The murderer took advantage of this time gap, and all possible evidence was destroyed. It's a smart move."

"..." Lestrade choked, closed his mouth obediently, and handed over the important task of "correcting Sherlock's three views" to the amiable and respectable Dr. Watson who has been fighting on the front line. Living up to expectations, John almost lost his voice The instant he took on this task: "Seamus, the other party is the murderer!"

"So?" The curly-haired boy stopped what he was doing, and his eyes sharpened.

"You can't call him 'smart'!" John insisted, "You should say 'cunning'."

"What's the difference?"

"Smart is a good word!" John glared at Sherlock almost gnashing his teeth, seeing that the other party wanted to refute something, and quickly shouted the other party's name, "seamus!"

"Hmph." Sherlock changed his words reluctantly, "Cunning way."

Lestrade cast an admiring look at John·sherlock the animal trainer·Watson, in exchange for a cold snort from Sherlock·Tamed by Watson·Holmes and almost warning eyes. John looked at the inspector with a headache. An adult was like a child, playing a game of staring at each other with the curly-haired boy.He was about to say something to ease the atmosphere, but Lestrade didn't make things difficult for him and spoke automatically. —— After staring at each other like fighting cocks for a long time, Lestrade was defeated: "What's your opinion?"

—Lestrade actually asked Seamus for advice!

John's expression changed instantly. "Consult a detective. I created this profession." The familiar words rose and fell in his mind like dim light. Sherlock, the name buried deep in his heart hovered in his chest, and he was about to blurt it out. John pressed his lips together tightly, the soldier's will made him restrain all impulses.He could feel that things that belonged to Sherlock were being taken away bit by bit: appearance, expression, language, thinking... even, what Sherlock regarded as his life's work.

A voice in the bottom of his heart told him the truth word by word: Sherlock was only his roommate.He has no reason or position to criticize or demand. It used to be, and it will not change now.

A vague insensitivity permeated his whole body, John felt a dull pain in his knees, he could hardly stand up, and managed to stabilize his staggering tendency with the help of crutches.Looking up, he saw that the two people on the opposite side had been silent, looking at him worriedly.There is no doubt that his own thoughts have been seen through. John looked at the curly-haired boy in a bit of embarrassment and surprise. That's right, Seamus's face was clearly written with worry, which made his heart feel a little warm unconsciously. ——That is Seamus who has almost inherited all the "advantages" of Sherlock!He wanted to laugh, but the name "sherlock" prevented the smile on his face from forming, so he could only hastily pursed the corners of his mouth and drew an embarrassing arc. seam