Boyfriend Development Program

John didn't know when he fell asleep.

When he woke up, even in the bedroom where the curtains were drawn tightly, which was drawn by his good roommate who never cared about details, John was a little uncertain, he could feel the bright and lovely light filling the whole room. Not a big room.Perhaps it was because he had just woken up, his mind was still a little groggy, and he was aching like it was about to split.Moaning and pressing his temples, it took him a long time to regain some energy.

The little man looked around, but he didn't find the consulting detective as expected, he pulled the corner of his mouth and lifted the quilt and got up from the bed.Some are confused because of the habit of seriously recognizing the bed. When he went to Afghanistan as a military doctor, the instability of the bed made John suffer a lot. For himself, note 1) how could he easily fall into a deep sleep on Sherlock’s bed? He refused to admit that it was Because this room—or this bed—was full of Sherlock's breath, and he refused to admit that he was under the gaze of the consulting detective's gray-green eyes... those eyes with unquestionable, deep and dark eyes made him feel at ease.

"I must be exhausted lately." John put on his old gray pullover, watched with satisfaction that all the marks of pleasure were covered under the clothes, and muttered to himself, "For God's sake , I have to ask Sally to give me a little vacation."

After getting dressed, John walked to the bed and skillfully folded the quilt and made the bed, as if he had practiced thousands of times.No, it's not "like practiced", it's "actually practiced". ——Jesus, Sherlock is not a person who can do these "mortal things"!

Sometimes John even worries, if he leaves 221b in the future, will the great consulting detective starve to death or freeze to death or die in 221b in various ways!And he was bound to leave.He's going to marry a lovely girl and have lovely children... The little man froze for a moment, then gave a short smile, and continued making the bed—well, he couldn't and he shouldn't Always stay in 221b, stay with that person.

Lowering his eyebrows, John discarded all distracting thoughts and concentrated on the matter in hand.

Suddenly, a small voice of conversation came from the direction of the living room, and soon drifted into his ears. John's movements paused again, and he listened intently, because the voices of the two were very low (he should be concerned that he is still sleeping, John guessed, although this is the same as pulling the curtains, it is by no means a "sherlock-like act" ), he had to distinguish for a while before he could barely come to a conclusion: sherlock and...mycroft?

……Um? What is the British government that "doesn't go to the Three Treasures Hall for nothing" come to do?Care about brother?Or... a case?

Thinking of this, the little man's movements became more swift, he finished folding the quilt, and strode towards the living room.

……

In the living room.

Sherlock and Mycroft sat opposite each other, clearly separated.

The curly-haired man fiddled with the game console in his hand and asked casually, "Is your news accurate?"

"Even though I'm in the last position in the government, I still have this intelligence network." Mycroft said with a smile, "So, what should I do?"

"What should I do?" The consulting detective looked at the British government like an idiot, "My dear brother, has your IQ regressed like your hairline! Of course we have to catch them all! Hey, moriarty!"

Sherlock chewed on the name, as if he wanted to crush it with his lips and teeth, crush it again, and finally spit it on the ground!

"That means you're going to...?"

"I was already prepared."

The decisive voice fell.

In the room, there was a sudden silence.

"You're really willing." Mycroft changed the subject, and looked at his brother who was radiant with a smile on his face, "Tsk, look at how moist our frigidity is, it seems that yesterday's nightlife made you very comfortable. I don't know if John is very—— in bed?"

"mycroft!" Sherlock threw the game console in his hand at his brother's face, stood up and scolded severely, "I solemnly warn you again, remove the monitoring of 221b! Otherwise, I will tell my mother All the good things about you and Inspector Lestrade, and all the things you kept from her! Exactly, word for word! You know I can do it!"

"Ouch, each other." Mycroft raised his hand to catch the game console, and looked at Sherlock, who looked like a blown-up Persian cat, with a smile, not paying attention to the other party's threat at all, "If you dare to mention it, I will Dare to tell Mommy the love history between you and John, I believe Mommy will be more interested in your affairs."

"If you don't remove the monitoring, Lestrade will never be free to look for me in the future. When Lestrade is with work day and night, you can go and love each other with a group of goldfish." The curly-haired man stared at the British government for a while, and suddenly made a smirk, slowly He sat back in his original position, and even grabbed the violin that was placed aside in the mood, and started to play, "And——, thank you."

"You—!" Mycroft was angry, and soon he caught a glimpse of John appearing at the bedroom door out of the corner of his eye, and he calmed down, "Unless you don't want to know who drugged John. Oh, maybe you're still there How about thanking the druggist? Huh? My dear brother?"

"Drug?"

John keenly captured this word, and his memory seemed to be activated. The things that happened at the door of 221b yesterday afternoon flooded into his mind instantly: his mind wandered, he was knocked down by a man, he was injected with medicine... and then he thought about last night That night of absurd jjj and wishful thinking hallucinations, confused mind and intense sexual desire, the little man's face turned livid: as mycroft said, he was drugged, obviously a part of the aphrodisiac kind.

He strode up to the two of them, looked at the British government and then at his good roommate: "Who drugged it? Why did you drug me? Or... um, aphrodisiac?" Before saying the last word At that moment, there was a moment of unnaturalness on John's face, which made the smile on Mycroft's face brighter. The latter raised his eyebrows triumphantly and looked at his dear brother, with an unwavering expression on his face at the moment. consulting detective.

Angrily throwing the violin in his hand aside again, Sherlock rubbed his curly hair irritably, finally faced John's questioning gaze, snorted reluctantly, then turned his gaze to his smiling face Brother: "Take a step back?"

Mycroft threw the game console back to Sherlock with a smile on his face: "Deal!"

"aname (a name)!" the curly-haired man said through gritted teeth, "ineedaname (I need a name)!"

"Hanniballecter." Mycroft let out a name between tongues, "John's psychiatrist."

"Wha...?! Dr. Lecter?!" John raised his voice several times in surprise, "Jesus, mycroft, are you sure?!"

Mycroft raised his eyebrows, turned his little black umbrella and looked at John: "Can I think John, you are doubting the British government's ability to investigate?"

"No, uh, that's not what I meant, it's just..." John's face was full of disbelief.

"John's psychiatrist?" Sherlock asked blankly, "Motive for the crime?" He glanced at the little man, although he knew he couldn't ask anything, he still asked, "John, do you have conflicts? Does he usually have anything? Something's wrong?"

"No, it's normal, he also advised me not to give up...well, some personal matters. My God, Dr. Lecter is a good doctor, we have a good relationship...well, I mean we are more like friends." john He licked his lower lip and stammered, "How could he... my God, he can't possibly harm me, let alone aphrodisiac..."

As he talked, John's voice gradually became quieter, and he suddenly remembered the words Hannibal said to him at the end of yesterday's consultation: "Everything will be fine, John, I assure you", "You will soon You'll know, I promise."

Could it be...?No wonder it's an aphrodisiac!

A thought occupied John's body and mind, and he moaned weakly: "Oh Jesus!"

Sherlock glanced at John and said blankly, "It's not an aphrodisiac."

"What? Then how...?"——how could you and me...?

"A type of hallucinogen." Sherlock raised his eyebrows, "Although there are aphrodisiac ingredients, but not much, at most it can only cause the injectee to become emotional."

"Ohmygod." John muttered absently, he finally figured everything out, after all, Hannibal just induced his hallucinations, let him see his own heart, and Sherlock...damn Sherlock just happened at the right time meeting! "oh my god..."

"Do you know the reason?" Sherlock's voice lowered, he looked at John, the lines on his face seemed to be more tense, "Stay away from that man from now on!"

"No, he, uh, I said Dr. Lecter, he just wanted to help." John was awakened by the curly-haired man's voice, subconsciously raised his head, but was startled by the sullen eyes of his good roommate, and moved his head in embarrassment, After a short cough, "None of his business. Actually."

The displeasure in the consulting detective's gray-green eyes was almost overflowing, he stared at John, the sharp gaze made the little man lick his lips again unnaturally.

"Hey, I think that psychiatrist has good intentions." Taking this interaction into consideration, the British government smiled ambiguously at the two of them, "Besides, the 'drug' I said was red wine. As for the injection, it's a pity, Still under investigation."

"This is the investigation capability of the British government." Sherlock smiled contemptuously.

"To each other." Mycroft frowned, pouted in John's direction, the meaning in his eyes was self-evident: take care of your good doctor first, and then blame me!

Sherlock snorted coldly, realizing that he really didn't have any position to accuse the other party.

The curly-haired man turned his head back and looked at John again. The little man was stunned - he was obviously thinking about that man! ——It added another layer of displeasure to him: "John, don't drink that man's wine from now on!"

John found his good roommate's anger, although he was puzzled, he still followed suit: "Uh, I know."——Jesus, God knows what would happen, how could he drink that glass of red wine by mistake!Although, for God's sake, he has to thank Hannibal for giving him this luxury at the end...

If it wasn't for that glass of red wine, John Watson wouldn't have taken such a damned step in his life, would he?

John pursed his lips, revealing a shallow, fleeting smile.

The author has something to say: (Note 1) I have a serious habit of recognizing the bed: the scumbag author is talking nonsense ╮(╯_╰)╭