[Comprehensive] Sherlock's Secret

After hanging up the phone, he was still pacing by the wall as usual, anyone could see that this person was a little unapproachable and crazy at the moment.

At dawn, Mycroft rushed to the hospital, but Su Fu still hadn't come out of the emergency room. The moment he walked into the hospital was just the beginning of the day, and almost every small sound was breaking the silence of the night, and almost all Things are waking up and starting over...except for those who stay up all night.

He barely recognized Sherlock.

He thought he could not believe that the disheveled and ragged beggar sitting on the lonely bench against the wall was his lonely brother.

Because this person looks lifeless and shocking.

"Sherlock Holmes."

McCaw rarely called his full name.

As if separated by a Milky Way, he slowly raised his head after a while, and glanced at McCoff, as if he didn't realize that there was a living person standing in front of him, and then lowered his head again, staring meaninglessly at touch the ground.

"Sherlock!" Mycroft squatted down and hugged his shoulders, and shook him twice vigorously, as if trying to shake his brain alive.

"Mycroft..." He finally answered in a low voice.

Mycroft, who was covered in travel and dust, heaved a sigh of relief. He covered his forehead, his eyes were tired, obviously Sherlock was not the only one who stayed up all night.

"Su is still inside," Sherlock murmured almost with difficulty, "it was my fault..."

Mycroft pulled him up straight with great effort, staring at his unmoving eyeballs covered by his disheveled hair—they seemed to have lost their vitality since they hadn't moved in a century.

"What happened?" he asked in a deep voice, "You have to tell me—"

In order to track down Moriarty, Sherlock came to the United States alone half a year ago. When he wanted to avoid being discovered, no one could find him, which was a matter of course.

At first Su said that he would write a letter every once in a while, but later, although he wrote less, there was still news. Of course, McCoff was worried about him, but at the same time he also believed in him. There was no other reason, but because he was himself. brother, he is Sherlock Holmes.

So when the secretary told him that Miss Frank left a message saying that she was going to find Mr. Holmes Jr., he didn't care at all. A Holmes with an IQ several times higher than ordinary people and a witch with magic skills, such a combination will beat the world no matter how you look at it. Most of the people seemed to have nothing to worry about until last night, when he received that call.

That was his private number, not many people knew about it, even Sherlock had called this number very few times—so when he disappeared for half a year, he suddenly dialed his private number , most likely, something unexpected happened beyond his control.

So he heard Sherlock's voice on the phone was hoarse and cold and terrifying, but Mycroft was very familiar with his younger brother, and he could hear the slight tremor suppressed under his deep and cold voice.

Then, he rushed over overnight and saw an emergency light that had been on all night, and his terrible brother.

"It happened..." Sherlock opened his mouth, but he couldn't speak for a long time before he murmured, "I know she's coming to New York - I hinted at her in the letter before, I left Chicago and arrived New York……"

The order of his words was reversed, and the speed of his speech was much slower than usual. Mycroft asked patiently, "Su knew you were in New York, so he came here specifically to find you. Then?"

"I know she came to New York, and the owl took her to Brooklyn." He bent down again, resting his elbows on his knees and propping his forehead, "If I don't want her to find her, she will never find me ..."

Mycroft said, "I know that very well."

"But I didn't... I deliberately played the violin in the square to get her to notice me," he swallowed hard, "I want her to come to me, I want to talk to her—not just write letters, she It's obviously already in front of me, I..."

"—you miss her very much." Mycroft helped him complete the sentence.

"Yes, I missed her—so I let her know where my stash was, but this one, it was a mistake from the start, if I hadn't—"

"No if," Mycroft interrupted him slightly coldly, but then slowed down his tone, "Go on, you asked Su to look for you, what happened?"

Sherlock raised his head, and he looked at Mycroft with deep, dull eyes, like a patient who has been ill for a long time, or who has not seen the sun for many years.

"Moriarty has an exciting criminal empire," he said with a smile that was uglier than crying. "In the United States, in Chicago...in New York, I investigated here, there is a gang in Brooklyn, and Moriah One-line contact, they are recently transporting a very rare and dangerous chemical substance, I have basically confirmed their itinerary, and in another week, no, three days, I can put the evidence of their crime in the New York Bureau of Investigation On the desk..."

"But I couldn't help but want to see her...so she came to Brooklyn to find me, and I should have taken her out of that place—I knew it was dangerous, I shouldn't have done this...she was shot—"

"Wait," Mycroft frowned and interrupted him. At this time, the corridors of the hospital gradually became more crowded. He had to lower his head and said in a voice that only two people could hear, "You mean , Sue Frank got shot? She's a wizard, she has supernatural powers—"

"It's...it's because of me," he clenched his fists angrily, "I didn't notice that there was a hotshot behind us, Su found out, her spell killed the hotshot, but it was too late to stop the bullet... The bullets were, were-"

He stopped, looking rigidly and mechanically at his blood-stained palm.

Mycroft's frown deepened. He vaguely felt that something bad would happen, but he still asked, "What was it?"

"...I should have been the one who was shot through the heart by a bullet, and she pushed me away, so—that's why," Sherlock gritted his teeth, making a crisp and trembling uncomfortable voice, "that's why I need to be rescued." ,she--"

"She's not dead yet!" Mycroft said calmly and forcefully. "The doctor is resuscitating her. She is still alive and well. Once the operation is over, you can see her again!"

Sherlock paused for a moment before saying, "...that doctor said the same thing."

"Then there's no problem," Mycroft tried to make his voice sound authentic, "The dead don't need to be rescued, she will definitely live well."

He paused, and finally found the most convincing reason: "Su is not an ordinary person, you have to trust her."

"I..." Sherlock's eyes finally moved slightly, and he whispered, "I believe in her——I have always believed in her..."

The light blue sky outside the window gradually brightened, and the lights in the emergency room seemed less dazzling. Mycroft rubbed his temples, put his arms around Sherlock's shoulders and patted him hard twice, saying: "You won't wait for a long time. Time."

The other party nodded slowly and stiffly.

At dawn, the door of the emergency room was finally pushed open with a "squeak". Sherlock was stunned for a moment, and then jumped up from the bench as if a spring had been installed, but his legs and feet were stiff because of holding the position for a long time. Staggering and almost falling, the nurse pushed the hospital bed out, and Christine saw him at a glance, and hurried forward and said, "The patient is out of danger, don't--worry..."

She was almost frightened back by her words, because Sherlock took a deep breath, suddenly turned around and punched the wall with his fist, and there was a loud and crisp sound from the knuckles of his fingers.

"Thank you very much, doctor," Mycroft also breathed a sigh of relief, "you saved my brother's friend—"

"Well," Christine took off the mask, and explained while turning sideways to let the people behind her out, "Actually, the surgeon is not me, but my colleague, Doctor Strange..."

Strange propped up his blood-stained hands, his eyes were still burning, and his tone was lofty: "Your friend and I have achieved a miracle of life together."

He was facing Sherlock as he spoke.

"But don't get too excited, her heart has been in sudden arrest for at least 2 minutes. This kind of acute injury is very easy to cause irreversible coma, so can she wake up—"

"She's still alive!" Mycroft interrupted the doctor hastily, and pulled his younger brother over, "Take a good look, she's alive!"

The woman lying on the hospital bed had her eyes closed tightly, her face was paler than the sterile medical quilt, and the transparent breathing mask was buckled on her face, as if it was about to crush that face in an instant.

"It's okay..." Mycroft patted him on the shoulder lightly, and followed the nurse to push the bed to the intensive care unit.

……

……

The Holmes brothers probably spent the next few days in front of the glass door of the intensive care unit.

Mycroft wanted to pull Sherlock away with a headache, because he woke up in less than two hours after the operation, and he almost didn't sleep, eat, or drink for two days. McCoff felt that he was almost gone. On the third day, Dr. Palmer pleasantly announced that Su was completely out of danger and could be transferred to the general ward.

But she was still unconscious.

"You are useless like this." Mycroft said wearily. At the beginning, he watched his brother stand motionless outside the glass door of the ward for a long time, and he was not even willing to change his homeless attire. In the end, Mycroft threatened him that if Su Su woke up and saw him like this, she would definitely hate him to death, because it is well known that she has a serious cleanliness fetish—he just left that ward.

And after he shaved off his beard, lost his excessively long hair, and washed away the blood stains, McCoff found that his younger brother was almost dead, and his complexion was the same as that of Su Fu in the intensive care unit. He was pale, his eye sockets and cheeks were sunken deeply, his jaw was abrupt and erect, even his fingers were skinny, like a vulture's claws, and the coat was hanging empty on his body.

It's hard to imagine what this guy has experienced in the past six months to make him look so pale and weak, and it was at this time that such a mess occurred.

Mycroft strode over and hugged him, unable to speak for a long time.

……

……

It's been a week since Su Fu was transferred to the general ward, but she still hasn't woken up. Sherlock kept guarding her for the first few days, then he went to some unknown place, disappeared for two days and then returned to the ward again. He fell into a coma all day and night like a sick person. At this time, the news that an extremely stubborn criminal group in New York had finally been arrested was being broadcast on TV.

It was night when he woke up, and the warm lights in the ward were a bit dim. As soon as he opened his eyes, he turned his head to look at the lying patient not far from him. The undulating wavy lines indicate that this is still a living person.

Also on this night, Dumbledore on the other side of the ocean temporarily sorted out all the things at hand, and threw a lot of matters about the start of school to Professor McGonagall and Severus, under the latter's strong protest , went to the International Floo Network Center.

Dumbledore hurried to the hospital, still wearing a silver wizard robe studded with stars, he walked into the No-Maj Hospital without a sound, walking all the way, the lights in the corridor went out one by one, It turned on again after he passed by. Fortunately, it was night, and there were not many other people in the hospital except the nurse on duty, otherwise it would have been another circuit repair accident.

He had asked his old friend from the Magical Congress of America to help him look up Su Fu's ward number, so he took the parchment with the number on it and went up to the sixth floor—fortunately it wasn't the sixteenth floor, he was very familiar with the Muggles' ward number. The elevator is not proficient at all.

After arriving at the destination, he stretched out the tip of his wand and knocked on the door, but found that the door of the ward was only ajar. Dumbledore pushed the door lightly and went in. At a glance, he saw a rickety man sitting on the edge of the bed near the door. hunched young man.

Dumbledore closed the door, raised his wand and lit a silver-blue flame, which turned the pale cheeks of the young man who raised his head and the patient not far away into a faint blue.

He sighed, and said as calmly as possible: "I didn't expect to meet you in such a situation, Mr. Holmes."

The author has something to say: I love you guys, refills.