The Siren's Sleeping Beauty [Comprehensive British and American]

When they took a taxi to 221B, Steve received another message from Tony, it was a photo.

Zooming in on the photo, Steve frowned slowly.

"What does it look like? [image]"

In the photo, there is a short blue steel armor, with blue paint falling off in some places.Looking at the shape, it should be able to cover the entire upper body, but the bottom has a skirt-like design, a petal-like shape, and a whole support behind it. I don't know what the meaning is.

Steve texted back, asking what it was.

Tony made a video call, and Watson signaled him to do whatever he wanted.

Steve picked it up, and Tony said like pouring beans: "You asked me to find that person, and I found the aircraft along the storage of that audio. There are no clues on the aircraft."

"But do you know what I found?" Tony shook the blue semi-finished armor vigorously, threw it away, and then picked up a blueprint.

Because he was holding the phone with one hand, the whole screen was shaking.

He bit one side with his mouth, and opened the drawing in his hand: "Look, the first piece of armor I designed was actually for... what?"

He himself looked at the drawing in disbelief: "Mermaid??"

Steve, on the other hand, stared at the fishtail with a human body on the blueprint and couldn't recover.

Has he seen it somewhere, has he seen it?

"What was I thinking before?" Tony looked at the drawing in disbelief, closed his eyes for a while, and shook his head, "Of course, that's not my point—"

"My point is, I think ... this is what you're looking for."

"That guy covered in scales." Tony threw away the drawing, with a self-defeating expression on his face, "Now, call me crazy—come on, tell me, I can accept it."

Watson looked at Steve's mobile phone that can automatically project images, wondering when there is such a technology in this world.

"Tony, can I see that picture?" Steve made a somewhat strange request.

Tony groaned, picked up the drawing again, and put it in front of the camera, covering his entire face.

Steve took a screenshot of that picture and looked at the saved picture: "Tony, thank you. What you said is really useful to me."

Tony patted the camera: "Old Popsicle, are you in a daze?"

"No one knows what's going on?" Tony began to sense something was wrong at this moment, "Wait a minute, where are you?"

"UK." Steve pinched his nose.

"……U.K?!"

"I found a clue from Charles, probably in England."

"Old Popsicle!" Tony suddenly looked serious, "Tell me, you're not crazy!"

Steve looked at him straight in the eyes: "After everything you found out, Tony, tell me, do you still think it's just me going crazy?"

Tony threw back the blueprint in his hand, showing an unhappy expression: "Crazy."

"Tony, keep looking it up for me," Steve begged. "You know more about this than I do."

Tony glanced at him and waved his hand, neither agreeing nor rejecting.

"Also," Steve wiped the edge of the phone with his fingertips, "Tony, can you check me?"

"Ok?"

"Me," Steve pointed to himself, "everything, everything about my wake. From 1976 to now, please."

Tony snapped the video call off, but Steve knew he said yes.

Because it was outside, it was useless to pretend that he didn't hear Watson, who was sitting upright with a strange expression, and the half of his body close to Steve was stiff.

When Steve put down the phone, he coughed dryly: "Huh, Tony Stark?"

"...Uh, yes." Steve looked at Watson.

"It's okay." Watson rubbed his knees, "I can handle it."

Steve smiled.

"Well, you know, my wife, she, she likes you very much." Watson began to find nothing to say.

When the atmosphere went all the way to Baker Street, Watson felt saved when he saw the familiar crooked house number.

Get out of the car in a hurry, he opened the door: "Please come in—"

Seeing him holding the door open for himself, Steve felt a little embarrassed for a moment: "Watson, don't be so nervous. I'm here only as your client—"

Steve showed him what he had just Googled about Sherlock and Watson.

Watson smiled awkwardly: "OK——"

If they were dealing with the bad guys of Scotland Yard, this counter was the bad guys of the whole world.

Seeing that what he said had no practical effect, Steve gave up trying to let Watson relax, and stopped being hypocritical.

After a long time, it will be fine.

"Sherlock!" Watson began to shout when he stood at the bottom of the stairs, "I brought... the client! Where are you!"

"Come up." Sherlock's voice came calmly from upstairs.

Steve went up with his bag on his back, and when he entered the door, he saw Sherlock sitting on the sofa with his hands on his chin and looking at him.

There's a chair in front of him, and Steve walks over to it, and sits down.

Sherlock pushed an old book of fairy tales in front of him: "Maybe you want to read this first."

Steve looked at Watson who was also sitting on the sofa beside him, and reached out for the book of fairy tales.

Looking down at the prince kissing the princess above, he was in a daze.After a while, he turned to the first page of the fairy tale book.

"For baby, from Angus Rogers."

Steve looked at the writing on it and rubbed it with his hand.

·

"My name is Steve Rogers, what's your name?

Angus. "

"Angus Cullen, so write."

"Okay, Angus Rogers—"

"Steve—"

·

"Your commission." Sherlock raised his foot and knocked on the table to remind impatiently.

Steve turned around and looked up: "I want to find someone."

Watson was completely at a loss.

"Find someone, find this person, Angus." Steve's voice gradually stabilized, and those short clips like phantoms quickly dissipated like smoke.

"Well, I guess so." Sherlock took back the book of fairy tales, flipped through a few pages casually, "Now, tell us everything you can tell us."

"everything."

Steve couldn't think of how to say this for a while, and after a while, he said slowly: "The first time I saw him was a week ago."

"You know the disaster in New York, I was there."

"He appeared in front of me, and I didn't realize it at the time," Steve swallowed. "He seemed to know everything about me. He was held hostage by a red cloak, and he fell from the sky and landed on my bed. arms."

"The way he looked at me like I was his lover. Then, he kissed me."

Watson wowed silently, for a moment he didn't know whether to be surprised by the "he" in his words or something else.

"But I don't believe I've ever seen him." Steve rubbed the fabric of his pants, "At least, I know, I haven't."

"Is it a mistake?" Watson knelt slightly and looked at Steve.

"Watson, if it's just a mistake, the person in front of us wouldn't be sitting here now." Sherlock said dissatisfied.

Watson let out an oh and sat back.

"The second time we met was at my work place, and he just showed up there." Steve paused, "He said something, it's only been 40 years, and you've forgotten me."

"Then, he punched me and disappeared again." Steve rubbed his stomach unconsciously.

"Your expression doesn't look like you've been beaten." Watson couldn't help laughing.

Steve licked the corner of his lips: "well, even all my...colleagues were nervous at the time. But I think he just...is the kind of attack with no bad intentions."

"I didn't take it very seriously."

"Hey, GI or something," Sherlock tapped the table, "I want the facts, not your opinion!"

"I'm not some late-night radio host either."

"Sherlock, you should listen to him." Watson said dissatisfied.

"Sorry, it's my fault." Steve accepted sincerely, "The third meeting was at my house, and he...appeared. It was still the same, saying that he knew me, and asking me if I knew him."

"Is there anything special about his appearance this time?" Sherlock caught his ambiguity and asked straightforwardly.

Steve... "He's... well, naked."

"It's all wet." Steve pinched his nose and exhaled shallowly.

Watson showed a look of understanding.

"OK, what else did he say?" Sherlock was obviously not very satisfied with what he had dug up, and he also looked very unhappy at Steve.

"He didn't tell me directly what his name was, but I'm pretty sure it was Angus Rogers."

Steve pointed to the book in front of them: "It's like what's written in your book."

Sherlock picked up the book and shook it.

"If you can, can you tell me how you got this book?" Steve couldn't help asking.

Sherlock slapped the book aside: "Now, focus on the question I asked you, and we'll tackle the rest later."

Steve frowned and continued: "He knows the network around me, some people who don't even know me very well. He even knows my dog ​​and his name."

"Call it juice."

"He had an expression on his face at that time, which was anger." Steve pursed his lips, "And I felt bad when I was exposed to his emotions."

"Like a subconscious mind?" Sherlock's voice was cold.

"Yes." Steve scratched his hand.

"Let's put some personal emotions aside, now, why do you think he must be real." Sherlock seemed impatient, "Tell us."

Steve looked at them: "I have some connections and can know some unknown information."

"The first clue is the donor of Arthur's Crown in the British Museum." Steve rubbed his palm and rubbed his fingers.

Sherlock looked down at his movements and raised an eyebrow.

"The donor is Angus Cullen." Steve kept some details vague.

"I got another clue from my good friend on the way to England. This Mr. Watson has already seen it." Steve pushed his mobile phone over.

Sherlock took a look at it and frowned: "Is there a real thing?"

"No, my friend is in a relatively remote place now, and it may not be easy to find the real thing." Steve said sincerely.

Sherlock pursed his lips.

"By the way, I still have an audio from a long time ago." Steve flipped through his message and played the audio to them.

"You know, now both pictures and audio can be faked."

After listening to the audio, Watson was completely immersed in the story, ignoring Sherlock's cynicism: "So, he is your... lover, right?"

Steve didn't nod: "I... have a feeling he is."

Sherlock dropped the phone: "It may be fake—"

Steve took back his phone and played with it: "Yes, I know."

"But how are you going to explain that book from Angus in your hand?" Steve straightened up.

"Well, the world is so big, there are no coincidences." Sherlock raised his eyebrows.

Steve looks away.

Watson couldn't bear it: "Sherlock!"

Sherlock snorted and said, "Dear Watson, decide on your blog name now—"

"It's called 'Gone Girl.'"