Sherlock's Kiss [Fuhua Vampire Colleague]

London, UK, October.

John Watson opened his heavy eyelids. He found it so difficult to open his eyes. The glare light hurt his pupils. He frowned, and it took him a long time to regain his clear vision, like a head just waking up from hibernation. bear.

He saw several strange faces surrounding his bed. An old man with a mustache squinted his blue eyes and looked at him, "Are you awake? Son?"

John Watson looked at him blankly. He didn't know this man. Another woman also surrounded him and brought her gentle face closer to him. John Watson subconsciously became vigilant, propped up his sore upper body slightly, and shrank onto the pillow. Shrinking his body, "Who are you?"

The two were stunned for a moment, then turned to look at a doctor in a white coat, the doctor shook his head and sighed, he said in a regretful tone, "We have tried our best, his brain has suffered serious damage. "

"Oh my son..." The woman threw herself into the man's arms and sobbed.

"I am your father, this is your mother, son." Old Watson stroked his wife's hair to comfort her.

John Watson was frightened to death by him, he had no memory of this face, this complete stranger turned out to be his father, his throat was hoarse and he couldn't speak, as if he hadn't spoken for hundreds of years Yes, John Watson struggled to squeeze out a few words, "Dad...?"

"Can you remember your name?" asked the doctor.

"My name is..." John Watson was stuck, he couldn't find a clue about his name in his mind, he racked his brains, a drop of sweat fell from his forehead, he said dryly, "I don't know what my name is. "

John Watson looked at the man who claimed to be his father and sighed heavily.

"Asshole doctor! How dare you make my grandson lose his memory! Do you still want to hang around in London!" An old but sharp voice came from the sofa in the corner of the ward.

John Watson turned his head sideways, watching an old woman striding towards the doctor with a cane, angrily tore off the doctor's white coat, angrily gesticulating in a sharp voice, and the doctor waved his hands desperately in front of her.

"It was the rock that broke his head, I really tried my best."

"He has been lying in bed for 15 days, and now he wakes up with great difficulty. Look at this silly boy who doesn't remember anyone. What kind of cure is this?"

"Forgive me..."

Then the old woman abandoned the doctor, walked over big and sat down on the hospital bed. John Watson looked at her in a daze, holding his face with his wrinkled hands, rubbing his cheeks "My poor John, my poor John," she said twice, "damn it, you forgot me, I'm your grandma."

"Grandma? But I really don't know you."

"You crashed."

John Watson frowned, "What car?"

"Train, you got thrown off that damned train, your head didn't bloom, it's a stroke of luck, you were found by a kind villager near the railroad tracks near Lancaster, he took you to church, and You were just transferred to the London hospital, and you were in a coma for 15 days, a full 15 days, and the doctor said that there was a damn intracranial hemorrhage, and some damn nerves were compressed, so that you couldn't remember anything."

John Watson was amazed, "I was in a coma for 15 days?!"

"What should I do now, I'm already stupid enough, but now I'm suffering from this kind of disease, what should I do in the future, this foolish boy." Grandma lamented resentfully, and was finally coaxed out.

The doctor ordered John Watson to rest alone for two days and stay in the hospital for observation. When John Watson had a physical examination in a conscious state, he learned that there was a coagulated blood clot in his brain at the moment. The doctor can take it out, but they can only wait for it to disappear, but the doctor can't say how long it will take until it disappears.

John Watson is healthy in every way. His accidental car crash left him with no memory of his life experience and his identity, but his ability to take care of himself still exists, his IQ is normal, and he remembers how to use his daily life. Kitchen utensils, also remember how to wear clothes, how to use toilet utensils, he can shave himself, repair his appearance, and remember the steps of making tea, and the doctor found that as long as the surgical forceps and sewing needles were handed to him, John Watson subconsciously If used correctly, his survival skills and learned knowledge are still intact, but his memory is no more, dissipating like smoke.

This feeling made John Watson a little bit out of his body. He lived in a numbness all day, feeling like he was a part of a machine that had fallen from it. He had a depressed feeling of being abandoned. He got a John Watson had no impression of this crutch and his lame leg. Later, he learned from his parents that his leg was born with a disability, and this defect has been with him since he was born.

After leaving the hospital and returning home, he touched the door of a strange house, pushed it open, and walked in. He leaned on crutches, and looked back at the family members standing at the door. Go inside and find his room.The doctor said it would help exercise his memory.

John Watson searched the house for a long time, and almost exhausted all his patience. He finally found the room on the second floor. He felt like a child trapped in a maze. He walked heavily angrily, Knocking on the crutches, he walked up the stairs step by step, and closed the door behind him with a "bang".

John Watson sat at an unfamiliar desk, and it was dark as soon as he sat.

In the following days, he lived without himself every day, his soul was missing, he often woke up in the middle of the night and didn't know who he was, he felt scared, and then the darkness kept appearing in his dreams The feeling of falling from inside was very real, just like his personal experience, he felt that he was thrown out by some kind of huge force, and then he couldn't recall any more pictures, he He often sat in the room from dawn to dusk, trying to figure out who he really was. Others said he was John Watson, but he didn't know if he was.

God, he actually fell asleep on the hospital bed like a vegetable for half a month.

Why did he fall off the train?I heard that the place where he fell was hundreds of meters away from the train. Ordinary crashed cars would not fly that far. What's more outrageous and suspenseful is that the track has not been opened to traffic for hundreds of years. A disused railway track, no railway company's trains have run on it since the birth of John Watson.

With a stomach full of doubts, he walked through the hallway in the morning sun, entered the bathroom he was not familiar with, and washed his face in front of the mirror. John Watson tore off the collar of his nightgown wonderingly, he tilted his head, looking at the cross-shaped scar on his neck, John Watson narrowed his eyes, checking that the cross-shaped scar was not caused by accident The wound, because the scar is very neat, like being cut by a sharp knife, who would draw such a mark on his neck?

John Watson wondered about his cross scar for a long time, but to no avail. He took off his nightgown and planned to take a hot bath. In front of the mirror, he was surprised to find that there were two bullet holes in his abdomen, and, moreover, Strangely, there were also a few shallow scratches on the tailbone. John Watson stroked the few scars near his buttocks. They were very faint, but it could be seen from the color that they were injured recently.

How could this happen, and what kind of outrageous circumstances would it take to injure the tailbone?

John Watson couldn't figure it out, so he just didn't want to. He got into the barrel and put a hot towel on his forehead. Every time he tried to recall a certain episode, his head would throb like lightning. Thinking about it made him miserable, and John Watson decided to take a break in the tub.

After taking a bath, he huddled in his room and refused to go downstairs for breakfast. He sat at the desk with his chin resting on his arms, and his foot kicked something. John Watson lowered his head and picked it up from under the table. A thing covered with black cloth was heavy. He lifted the black cloth, and a small birdcage made of pure gold was revealed. John Watson opened his eyes wide. He actually had such a valuable collection. It seemed that he The doctors in this clinic are really good.

John Watson looked at a small golden key hanging at the door of the birdcage. He reached out and took off the unique key, and put it in his hand to play with it repeatedly. Watching, he faced the light outside the window, and the key refracted brilliantly. A golden light with a name engraved on it.

"Sherlock." John Watson recited the name softly, and suddenly, a very uncomfortable and heavy sense of oppression filled his heart, "Sherlock?" He seemed to have heard it somewhere.

He kept the mysterious golden key in his trousers pocket all the time, and while he was sitting at the dining table having dinner, he suddenly asked his family, "Is there anyone named Sherlock among my friends?"

The dining table was silent for a moment.

John Watson rolled his innocent eyes around his father, his mother, and his grandmother, all of them with a look of shock and fear on their faces.

"What's wrong? What did I say wrong?"

"There is no such person as Sherlock." His grandma replied grimly, "There is no such person as Sherlock in this world. Don't ask questions when you eat."

"But I found a key..."

"What did you find?" His grandma looked like she wanted to fight the name Sherlock, and the fierce defensive and fearful attitude made John Watson shut up.

He shook his head, "I just thought of the name suddenly."

"My John, have you remembered anything?" Mom looked at him worriedly, holding the knife and fork nervously with her fingers.

"No, it just passed by in a flash. I seem to have heard of this name somewhere. I don't think of anything." After John Watson confessed honestly, he found that the atmosphere at the dining table was even more gloomy. It's like there are dark clouds gathering over the dinner table, like Sherlock is a taboo word for his family.

He ate in silence. After a long time, he raised his head, "You said that I have a younger sister who ran away from home and hasn't come back yet. Why did she run away from home?"

These words made everyone fall into dead silence again, and John Watson could only hear his own breathing.

Pa put down his knife and fork, struck the table with his fist, and so scowled that John Watson was startled, wondering what he had said wrong again.

"Don't think about it, John, although it's a pity that you can't remember your beautiful childhood, but now I think it's a good thing that your memory loss is a good thing, you just stay at home to cultivate, don't force yourself, about your sister Harriet, None of us could find her, the police couldn't do anything, I think she's missing, probably dead, and that's not the worst possible outcome."

John Watson's heart skipped a beat, "What do you mean it's not the worst outcome..."

"Enough! Don't ask!" Dad was in no mood to eat any more. He pushed away the chair angrily, left the dining room, hid in the living room and buried himself in writing. He didn't talk to John Watson all night.

John Watson was leaning against the doorframe of the living room, leaning his cane against his leg, picking at his fingers.

Old Watson was writing with a quill brush, he nodded coldly, and motioned for John Watson to sit opposite him, John Watson sat down heavily with his cane, "Why don't you let me mention Harriet ?” he asked bluntly.

"Because I am very sad, my daughter, that she is gone, and I am sad to speak of her," said Pa, looking at John Watson, and returning to writing.

"Tell me how it is, she's my own sister, and I don't remember her at all."

"You can't remember me, I'm still your biological father, forget it, John, memory is not really that important, I am satisfied that you are safe at home now, your medical skills are still there, as long as you practice more, Get used to it for a few months and you'll be the same as before, admired in the City of London."

Being praised didn't interest him at all.

"Why did I fall off the train? Where am I going by train? Is that a train going?" John Watson asked.

Old Watson said nothing.

John Watson frowned, "What happened in the meantime? What ulterior secret is hidden here?"

"I am your father, I am not like others, I am your family, I will not harm you, please believe me, your memory is cursed, if I were you, I would give up the memory, it is not good for you." He stood up, "By the way, let me take you to the clinic tomorrow, let you get to know your nurse and your buddy again, and your colleague Stanford also invited you to dinner, if you don't want to see him , I will help you refuse."

John Watson turned the crutch in his hand, thinking calmly, his memory is gone, it has completely disappeared in his head, and all that is left is the uncomfortable and depressed mood, that damned depression, just like he lost Like something precious, it made him breathless, but the family around him wanted to hide a lot of things from him, maybe they could pry out some key words from others, John Watson shook his head, "It's okay, Stanford? I'll have dinner with him, I can hang out with him, I'm bored by myself anyway."

In early autumn, on a cool morning, John Watson came out of the clinic, said goodbye to his father, and walked into a cafe that he seemed to have been to before, but he didn’t seem to have been there before, and a fat man waved to him from one of the sofas, John Watson walked towards him blankly.

When Stanford saw him, he sighed, "I heard, Dr. Watson, you are injured here." Stanford poked his temple with his finger, "I heard it's serious, you can't remember anything, even I forgot all about it. How could this be? It’s only been four months since we saw each other, and you have suffered such a catastrophe.”

"What four months?" John Watson's face sank, and he took the opportunity to ask, "I got on that train four months ago?"

Stanford tilted his head, holding a piece of snack in his hand, and looked at him, "What train? I only know that you have traveled a long way. Every time I look for you, you are not at home. You have been away for 4 months. You don't even have your Can't you remember the trip?"

"Journey? I don't know. I haven't even determined who I am, let alone other things." John Watson took a sip of black coffee and said to himself, "Didn't I take the train at the beginning... "John Watson mused, "It is true that no one will sit on the train for 4 months."

"Speaking of trains, you talked to me about a very strange train before."

John Watson paused as he drank his coffee.

Stanford wiped his hands with a napkin and leaned forward, "Scarlet Rebirth, do you remember that you mentioned this, and you said you admired the name."

"Did I say anything else?"

Stanford thought for a while, as if he suddenly remembered, he patted his head and said, "You used to remember that there was a railroad track closed to traffic, and you read it for several days, just like you, talking to yourself, I remember Well, it's about that medical conference, near Oxfordshire, you're talking about that abandoned antique railway, that dead railway, with a sparking train passing by in the middle of the night, every window Lights on, like it was full, but I think you were probably drunk, and then you said you had enough of your life, and then you went on a long trip."

John Watson heard a heart pounding.

He still didn't remember it, but when Stanford said these words, he felt a sense of déjà vu, and the strong sense of familiarity burned in his chest, sparking... the train...

The more John Watson thought about it, the more he felt uncomfortable. When he returned home, he lay on the small bed at night. He looked at the moon outside the window. A very huge moon was very close to him. He lowered his head and found himself on top of a towering treetop. John Watson was holding on to the top of the tree, fearing that he would fall. He looked around, and he was the only one around. People, and the round moon above the head, the bright moon was suddenly covered with a smear of scarlet blood, and the thick blood gradually spread until the whole silver moon was dyed red, and the moon became fiery red, like a burning eyeball.

I want a place to belong, I don't want to live without a place, John, the outside world will only keep me forever, I don't want to be like that, wandering in the wilderness for a hundred years, my John, can you give me Yes, more than you can think of yourself.

John Watson woke up from the bed as if he was suffocated. He was covered in sweat. He sat up. These words lingered in his mind repeatedly. Who was the person who spoke? The voice was deep and hoarse, with a charming voice. It sounded like a man's voice in the dream, but who was that man? Why did you say these heart-shattering, body-hot words to him? It's like love words when you think about it.

John Watson wanted to drink a glass of water downstairs. He stopped at the door of Harriet's room, hesitated for a moment, and then went downstairs holding an oil lamp. After drinking the water, he sneaked to his father's desk, Opening the drawer, he opened several ledgers, and there was a letter under it. John Watson sat in a chair, put the envelope in his hand, and read it repeatedly.

The oil lamp was weak. John Watson picked up a length of wick to brighten the light a little. He pulled out the letter paper in the envelope. The content of the letter was very short:

Dear Dad, Mom, and Grandmother:

I am already on the way to find my brother with the hunter. If it goes well, I will be able to meet him in a few days.

That train is haunting around Lancaster, and the hunter says we'll find it.

The hunters unanimously decided to kill Sherlock Holmes. I agree with this approach. The monster has no point in living.

Don't worry, I'll be back soon with my brother.

——Harry Ye Watson.

John Watson felt his fingers trembling, and he recited softly under the light, "The hunters unanimously decided to kill Sherlock Holmes. I agree with this approach. That monster has no meaning to live..." John Watson bowed his head. With the letter in his hand, he stared blankly at the shadows in the living room, "Sherlock... Holmes..."

Is that the full name of Sherlock engraved on that key?Sherlock Holmes?

This person was hunted down by his own sister with a hunter?What exactly is the hunter referring to?From the tone of the letter, it didn't sound like the kind of hunter who shoots game with a shotgun.

What does monster mean?Is Sherlock Holmes a monster?Is Harriet talking about a human being?But a horrible animal?Or is it a beast?

train?Was it the Scarlet Rebirth that Stanford told him about?What the hell does the train have to do with John Watson and Sherlock Holmes?

After reading this letter, John Watson's mood was so chaotic that he couldn't calm down for a long time.

He put the letter back in its original place, went back to bed tossing and turning, and fell asleep in a daze before dawn. Since then, every night since then, he has dreamed of the same magnificent full moon, which is amazing. He was so big, he was forever trapped on the top of that treetop, swaying with the wind, looking at the moon alone until it was splashed with a layer of blood red.

After waking up from the dream, he always feels lost. He feels that he has lost something very important, but he just can't remember it.

The author has something to say:

There have been fewer comments recently [it must be the wrong way for me to call! 】

Tears are blurry, please comment, please collect, please tune/teach [Hello]

Amnesia PLAY is still very interesting, the best way to wake up memory is to reenact the event

Xiaohua, the memory of the first night is here again?

In fact, this article is not cruel at all, I have already decided that this article is a happy ending [I am relieved that I don’t need to suffer from eggs]

But the new Fuhua article next door is just that. . . .Not necessarily. . .