[sherlock] Spirit and flesh

John stood quietly in front of me with his head bowed and sighed comfortably, as if a stone had been lifted in his heart.

I understand that it’s not because of his emotional backlog for too long. Since the second Mrs. Watson was hospitalized with terminal cancer, he has cried secretly, avoiding everyone including me. If I want to know whether he shed tears or not It would be too difficult, but the sadness in his heart has never been vented, I think, because I appeared in front of him this morning and witnessed his misery and sadness, he showed his true self in my arms, and I His hug and my gaze comforted him.

Then John had the strength to finish his breakfast slowly, and he sipped the last sip of his black coffee, chuckling at me, "I agree with you, Sherlock."

"But I didn't say anything, John."

"That's the kind of trick you like to play, isn't it, when no one else says anything, you just throw out the conclusion first. Guess who I learned this trick of prophecy from, yes, Sherlock, from you," John said. Holding on to the coffee cup, he looked at me with a smile, "I know the purpose of your visit, you want to invite me to live in 221B." John paused for a few inexplicable seconds, he was still smiling, and the tears from before disappeared Flying, I sat in the chair and looked back at his smile, I think I was about to make him laugh too.

"Sherlock, even if you don't come to invite me, I will have the cheek to go back to you, just like last time, I also encountered bad things, well, the same thing, I needed to be with people Living together, and you magnanimously accepted me as a roommate again." John lowered his head, "Thank you, though, you didn't want me to be embarrassed, so you took the initiative to invite me back this time, right? Sometimes you are considerate advantage."

I seriously squinted my eyes and thought for a while, "I'm not caring about you, John, I think..." I looked at him for a long time, and if I didn't want to say, I could rot into the coffin, I could put the ultimate Secretly locked in the small safe with eight iron doors exclusive to Holmes, but once I encounter something I can't hold back, it will be an avalanche, no one in this world can stop it, I think the avalanche has started, my brain is a little buzzing Buzzing, I stared at John for a long time until he started blinking at me inexplicably, then I opened my mouth, and the sentence stormed towards him, "I feel like I finally have a chance to be with you again Cohabitation, I have a chance, John, I have a chance, don't I? I can live with you in the living room of 221B as before, and your sofa can be put back, so can I Playing the violin with my back to you in front of that window again."

After I finished speaking, I closed my eyes with regret. I should hold back. I am annoyed that although I have a temple of thought that attracts people's attention, the door is not very strong. In addition, my personality is passionate and impulsive. Fighting side by side, close friends, I can't control the conversation that keeps boiling in my heart.

I heard John sigh softly, I opened my eyes in front of him like a child afraid of being punished, John just nodded bitterly at me, "I understand, Sherlock, I understand, we will be the same as before, you are still That famous Holmes, and I'm back in your trench coat again, back in my assistant role."

"You are not my assistant..."

"I'm just a metaphor."

"Shall I come over to help you move?"

"No, no, Sherlock, don't treat me like a useless person, just like when I first moved into 221B, no matter how many chores I can handle by myself."

John did what he said, he was alone preparing for the move, he was entangled in various busy affairs, and at the same time took the time to reject all my kindness, that's fine, anyway, I don't have much patience and kindness, I can use In my spare time, I am busy with my experiments with corpses and metals, saving my patience and kindness for next time.

He wants to buy out his and his wife's real estate first, and it's just a sad place for him to stay there, then deal with his wife's relics, and settle down his pair of children.

John's eldest daughter was born to his dead ex-wife, and has been fostered by his ex-wife's natal family, while the youngest son born to John and his second wife is still too young, less than one and a half years old, John's mental state is not suitable for taking care of the baby, to be honest John After being widowed, he was a little irritable, and I could often hear him scolding angrily when he was troubled by trivial matters, so the frail and noisy baby, who was prone to neurasthenia in adults, was temporarily taken care of by his parents-in-law.

All in all, the cumbersome moving procedures finally came to an end after one and a half months, and John formally moved into apartment 221B Baker Street again and again.

He is just like before, sitting on the loveseat sofa that I often lie on. After returning to 221B, his mental condition has recovered. He doesn’t worry much, and a lot of sadness has faded from his face. He raised his head and inspected the great art that was born when I was bored. Work, the bullet-hole smiley face still in place, I glance over at the chessboard in front of the desk and see him shaking his head at the bullet holes.

"I can't believe we've known each other for nine years," John said, shaking out his morning paper and doing aimless, unfocused, fool-like recreational reading in the light from the window.

"9 years? Well, if you do the math, you've known each other for so long. You came to me when I was only 27 years old." Competition, off-season, off-season for crime, I'm going crazy with this off-season, I'm already thinking of what to add next to that bullet hole smiley face to make it richer, and I screw my fingers ferociously in together.

John realized my agitation, he stood up and urged me, "Sherlock, I think we'd better go out and have some fun? I don't want to just move in and have this house be torn apart by you because you're bored gone."

He understands so well that he can accurately understand my heart without me complaining. Yes, he is not wrong in his analysis at all. I am, very, very, very depressed.

Even I can't guarantee what stupid things I will do during the low tide of brain activity. I remember one time I injected opium in front of John, one time I stayed in my room for 14 days, and one time I took My landlady made articles about her affair, and once I harpooned a dead pig and took the subway home bloodied.

I followed him out without much sarcasm about such a waste of time as a walk.

We huddled in front of the porch and put on our respective coats. I walked out of the apartment first, and John was in charge of locking the door behind me. He stepped on the steps with one leg, and pulled the horseshoe straight with one arm. Close, I heard the sound of closing the door and looked back at him, his hand moved away from the horseshoe, I watched the little ornament tilted a few degrees to the left by him, and then he left the crooked horseshoe alone Lah, I smiled and waited for him to approach my shoulder with my hands behind my back.

John waved his arms, and he walked very imposingly. I carried my windbreaker pocket, and looked at his hair from time to time. John walked straight forward, his eyes focused on a certain point in front, and he firmly Incomparable, like a marching soldier.

We wandered to Hyde Park, he drove the pigeons under his feet, and strode forward. When we walked to the lakeside, John finally slowed down. He began to enjoy the warm morning sun with his hands behind his back.

I turned my head and stared at his hand behind his back. I knew I could, and it only took a moment to hold his hand. I took my hand out of my pocket and hung it beside my body, the back of my hand Touching his jacket indistinctly, what I covet is not the wallet he hides in the inner pocket, if I need to get his wallet quietly, this step can be completed in two seconds, but I What is in the picture is the loyal and reliable hands behind him.

I held his hand, and more than once, I remember the rough lines and strong warmth in the palm, and I also remember the moment when my palm overlapped with his. Thanks to the blessing of Scotland Yard, I used a The handcuffs shortened the distance between me and John so close that I held him and climbed over an iron gate under the moon. He later quarreled and refused to clasp my fingers with me, so he fled all the way down in order to keep up with me. He used his little finger to hold my sleeve tightly, and he tore the sleeves of my coat to the shoulder line. So far, I have been so generous that I have not opened my mouth to claim compensation from him.

It was one of those magical adventures we had when we were young, and I'm 36 now, but I don't think I'm the same Sherlock Holmes I used to be, because of a bullet shot in my youth that broke me out.

I was dying on the operating bed at that time. I never believed in illusions, let alone admitting the white light of death, but I did experience a near-death experience. I was trapped in the tower of death and almost couldn’t get out. , and John Watson's name brought me back to life.

I am grateful to him, and if possible, I am willing to give him tens of thousands of gratitude from my heart.

I stretched out my hand and boldly grabbed a palm behind his back. The temperature in his palm was very high. I held him tightly, and then nervously pressed my lips together, waiting to be scolded or Being beaten, in this regard, I always look like a child who has done something wrong in front of him. I admit that I am not as emotional as he is. I don’t know how to deal with feelings correctly. I just want to hold his long-lost hand at this time. I haven't done it in ages, and I miss the touch.

I held him and took two steps.

"Sher...Sherlock...you are holding my hand." He was very puzzled, very confused, "You are working on a case again? Is this one of your methods of handling a case? You are borrowing my hand to carry out an experiment? "

"Neither, John."

"But...but you are holding my hand." John kept his head up and complained to me, "Why are you holding my hand? Why? I don't need to be like this, I can walk, don't I? You're holding my hand, you know that?"

"I know! Of course I know, yes, I am holding your hand, and my palm overlaps with yours. Besides, maybe you can observe more valuable deep-seated phenomena?"

"But...why...what a goddamn worthwhile deep phenomenon..." John fell silent, and then he stopped asking, turning his head to look at the lake.

I sighed, he didn't care about it, and I was finally able to look at the miserable scenery around me and stop the cold sweat on my back. I secretly scraped his warm palm with my fingertips, I know he feels it.

My mood suddenly became better, and the depression and heaviness that the brain was useless suddenly became clear, and my steps were no longer so sleepy. My body seemed to be salvaged from the mud by branches. I felt that John There is magic in him.

We were back in Baker Street two hours later and of course he wrenched out of me in the crowded area and I had just walked into the flat when my nagging old lady told me there was a client waiting upstairs Looking at me, she has been waiting for an hour and a half, and she also sent a plate of baked biscuits for free, letting him sit on the sofa and munch and wait for me to show up.

I glared at John complainingly, "If you didn't suggest that I go for a walk, I would have been active."

"Hey, bastard, speak with conscience, you're smiling when you walk, you're crossing the river and tearing down the bridge." John muttered back at me, and walked upstairs ahead of me.

I frown at the word jerk, then relax, it's been a long time since he called me that, and I've lost that nickname since his second marriage.

Going upstairs, I spent three minutes warming my black leather sofa with my buttocks. At this time, I just sorted out the client's family relationship and growth background. John is still holding his old notebook On the computer, he used search software to find what he thought were clues, and from time to time he used a pen to write down the details he thought needed to be remembered on the notepad on the armrest of the sofa.

I stare at him.

"Sorry, can you tell us about your family relationship and growth background?" John innocently turned his head and asked the client. When he asked questions, he always leaned forward, and the corners of his mouth would rise slightly. , showing his innate friendliness.

I rolled my eyes, "Ask something else!" I said impatiently, "Because you have a head like me! Ask something I don't know!" I turned my head and looked again Looking at the client's face, I'm getting tired of seeing him, all the features are so obvious, the speech is unclear, tedious, wordy, cumbersome, a lot of modifiers are used, and the important key points are blurred, I can't wait to think about it Go to the scene of the crime to find really useful clues.

John looked at me puzzled, "Hell, you know him? You've known this client for a long time?"

I raised my eyebrows. My John is sometimes very shrewd. For example, when he bargains with the vegetable vendor, and when he shoots to determine the vital point of the criminal, he is very powerful in a critical moment, but sometimes he Really stupid.

I looked at him for a long time, and John licked his lips with his tongue, "My God, you know all about his life experience, damn it, you deduced it, damn it, how can John Watson be so stupid at home?" staring at me."

"You can see from my face that you can still be saved." I stood up, raced against time to put on my coat, and went downstairs to intercept the taxi again. I stopped in front of the car door and stepped out of the way. John silly glanced at me.

"What are you doing."

"Your favorite gentleman, you get in the car first."

John shook his head and got into the car. I touched his head and covered the roof for him, so as not to damage his head, which was not very good. Then I reached out to stop the client from trying to get into the car too. , "You, go home and wait for news."

The client was very surprised, "But I only said a few words!"

"You have said enough, and you will interfere with my thinking field when you sit in. When I go back, there will be more wooden floors at the scene than you told me." I sat neatly in the carriage, slammed the door, and told the address Driver, let the car start.

John put on his seat belt, and I did the same.

"You are too fierce to the client. He is not your creditor, and he is not here to collect debts. He is paying you. He brings you work, brings you busy, and makes your life colorful. Colorful."

I don't have time to listen to his nagging complaints, I'm mentally calling up my database, rummaging through my cluttered attic for bits and pieces of useful information.

"Sherlock? Sherlock!"

I came back to my senses and looked at him, "What's wrong with my doctor?"

"Did you even listen to me?"

"I'm thinking."

"Take two minutes to take care of me." John suddenly said sternly.

"Okay, tell me." I desperately searched for the switch in my mind to suspend thinking. I thought that switch must be very secret, but I couldn't find it anyway, so I decided to talk to him while navigating through the flying case information. Some games are like drawing a circle with my left hand and a square with my right hand. I listened to him and didn't stop calling my information bank.

"Don't take me for a girl, Sherlock Holmes."

I frowned, this time I found the button to shut down the thinking circuit, I pressed it in one breath, blocked all the dazzling information, and focused on John, "I don't understand."

John looked at me ferociously, "I did lose two wives, but I didn't become weak, and I didn't become weak, you can't treat me like that, like a doctor treats a patient, like a hen treats its yellow-haired chicks. "

I thought about it for a while, and then answered him, "First of all, I'm not a hen, and second, how could I have mistaken you for a girl?"

"Just like just now! I don't need you to protect my head and let me get in the car! Also, I was walking in the park before, and you were holding my fucking hand! Do you think you are pitying me! I don't need you Poor! My psychiatrist sympathizes with me, my old schoolmates sympathize with me, and the sheriff, and your brother, and the old lady who takes your rent to live, I can feel that in everyone. Sympathy! But you can't do that to me! Have I ever sympathized with you? Did I feel sorry for you because you're a freak and can't make friends? Sherlock? Once upon a time, did I insult you like that?"

I admit that I looked a little sluggish at this second, I blinked a few times in front of him quickly, trying to make the expression on my face less stupid as soon as possible, I shouldn't be a man who will show a stupid expression, I hope Looking out of the car window, I blinked a few more times, and then I turned my head and looked at him again, "But John," to be honest, I was very hurt in my heart, and I was a little bit wronged. This feeling of grievance surged up, "I did these things not to sympathize with you, nor to pity you. I did these things because I wanted to do so."

Now it was John's turn to stand in front of me unprepared, and I could find the expression on his face that appeared to me half a minute ago, that dull expression when he heard an unexpected topic.

His concealment speed was not as fast as mine, and he was not as clever as me. He suddenly became restless. He coughed a few times uncomfortable from his throat, and then adjusted the seat belt that didn't need to be adjusted with his hands. His gaze began to wander, unable to stay on my face anymore, he looked at all places, all boring and monotonous places could keep his sight, except for me, he refused to look at me again.

Made me a little annoyed and guilty, what did I do wrong?

I analyzed until I got off the car and arrived at the scene. I was still in the stage of analyzing John, but he just stood behind me with his hands behind his back and looked around. For a moment, I felt that he was a detective, and I was just a roommate who couldn’t figure it out. The inner fool.