Sherlock's Kiss [Fuhua Vampire Colleague]

Sherlock Holmes, who was sitting at the table, pushed away the soup bowl, tapped his fingers on the table twice, and said, "Dr. Watson, I'm waiting for you. Please sit down." His voice was soft, educated, and approachable.

"Wait for me?" John Watson said, his voice was a little abnormal, what did this man call him just now?doctor?John Watson swore that he never mentioned any identity information about him from the moment he got on the bus. John Watson pushed the chair opposite Sherlock and sat in, piled the luggage under his feet, still holding the crutch in his hand, he Try to relax yourself.

"Yes, it took you a long time from the time you jumped off the platform to climbing onto my train."

John Watson's climbing movements are not very flexible, but his strength is strong enough. His body is quite healthy. Except for his disabled legs, he is very perfect. He has a normal height and a normal weight. The face is ruddy and blood-colored, without any beard, with a high nose and sincere eyes.

Any woman will recognize him as a man worthy of deep friendship.He was wearing a heavy blue coat with double rows of brass buttons. He looked tall and straight, with high spirits, and even a little air.

However, the look in Sherlock's eyes prevented him from being arrogant.

This person must be a lunatic to have this kind of gaze, John Watson couldn't help making a subjective judgment.He has seen the same look in the eyes of lunatics and the most fanatical missionaries, and he has also seen this look of despair and loneliness in those backward and dilapidated hospitals, in front of the beds of those cancer patients.John Watson subconsciously does not want to deal with lunatics, religious fanatics, drug addicts and deviant people.

But Sherlock didn't sound like a madman when he spoke.

"Doctor, I think you probably got on the wrong train." His voice was sincere and methodical.

"I think so. Your train does not pass near Oxford. The gentleman named Mycroft told me just now. I want to get off at the next stop and I have to say hello to you." A folded wallet was hidden in John Watson's inner pocket, still intact. "I insist on paying the fare. I didn't mean to break the rules in your industry."

"Money is useless to me," Sherlock smiled slightly. "Our industry? I'm not a full-time train driver. Can you guess our industry?"

John Watson was less sure. "You're the conductor, aren't you?"

"That's what my brother called me. I own the train, but I'm not some stupid conductor."

"Your brother?"

"Mycroft, didn't you notice when he introduced himself to you? He has the same last name as me."

"I remember." John Watson suddenly changed his words again, "No, wait a minute, you hid by him when he introduced himself?"

Sherlock smiled and didn't answer. He reached out and pressed the call button on the wall. After a while, a train steward knocked on the door and came in, dressed as a waiter, "What do you want?"

"Would you like to dine with me, before stopping at the next stop?"

"So you are willing to let me go? Thank you." John Watson said briefly.

Sherlock's eyes stared so hard he couldn't help it.

"Of course let you go. It's a headache for me to stay on the train. At present, this section of the railway is not covered. I don't like to park in an open place. In another 30 minutes, I will find a suitable place to pick you up." lay down."

John Watson really appreciates his frankness, John Watson bothers him?Tonight's misadventures were enough to give John Watson a headache.

If you still have 30 minutes to kill, why not have a meal under the kerosene lamp with this mysterious man you met by chance.

"I'd like soup, a dozen oysters, two roast chickens with mashed potatoes, it's better to be crispy, and some drinks to wash things down. What kind of wine do you have on this train?"

Sherlock stared at him, "Your appetite, no one in the whole train can compare to you, your appetite is really big, it's scary."

John Watson chooses his words carefully, "I am on a terrible train, passing through a terrible wilderness. I have been busy packing my terrible parcels since the evening and did not take care of my food. I do have a terrible appetite, but Mr. Holmes , Men must maintain their strength, but if it’s too embarrassing for the chef on your train, forget it, give me a plate of noodles and a glass of cold water, I misjudged the level of ingredients on the train.”

But Sherlock didn't seem to blame him, but nodded to the waiter-like flight attendant, "What do you want, what do you have."

The flight attendant left.

"You're running a clinic and you're going to the annual medical conference in Oxford, and you're caught in a pickpocket, and your pocket watch and receipts are gone."

John Watson drank the water quietly, trying not to stare back at him with the impolite look of seeing the devil, "You look like a smart man who can't hide anything from you. I think, before I got on the train Have you investigated me through some means? Do you have eyeliners at the station outside? Send you messages at any time or something?"

Sherlock chose not to say a word at first, but the look on his face soon showed that he couldn't bear it any longer, and he said fluently: "You have a clinic, which was handed down by your ancestors, the legacy of your great-grandfather , your clinic is very special to you because you grew up playing in it, you work near the Thames but you were not born in London, your place of birth, near Edinburgh, is where our train ends You have been to six places in your life, mostly between Ireland and England, without leaving the border, your clinic business is doing well, every year there is a new round of patients who trust you, your reputation Very well, there have never been any mistakes in surgery." Sherlock paused.

The way John Watson frowned must have been caught in his eyes in every detail.

"When I say there has never been a mistake, I mean before the end of July last year, there was an accident that hit you hard last year. When you were happily expanding your clinic business to half of London, an ominous The patient knocked on the door of your operating room, a woman from kiln, suffering from sexual/disease, and vascular tumor, advanced stage, the tumor ruptured during the operation, irreparable, the bright red blood is still vivid in your mind , the blood spread all the way to the chest, like a pool of lakes around her lungs, so you got a tormenting Christmas, and you haven't been able to get relief."

John Watson removed his hand, spread it out secretly under the table, then slowly tightened his fingers into a fist, and placed it on his knee.

"Reaper, like severe winter, no human being can escape its harvesting scythe, as long as it is a human being, it is inevitable to die. The dead no longer have any pain, but you, the living, will be burdened by it, and you will have nightmares every night."

"That's right, you said a single word is not bad, the operation was wrong." John Watson nodded, "I don't deny it, and I don't want to hide it. In short, as you said, I am a crappy little doctor."

"No one knows about that operation except the guys and nurses in your clinic. If it gets out, what will those people say about you, you know, they will not sympathize with your nightmares, they will reprimand you, not at all I will care about your involuntary burden, that prostitute, if you have surgery, there is still a 30% survival rate, if you don’t have surgery, you have to wait for a sudden death, you generously donated money to help her, but no matter what, you are out of luck , you lost, lost to death, but those people, those people walking around you in the sun, would they think of this for you, obviously not, they will think your medical skills are ignorant, go around Gossip, it's the nasty type, your clinic is going to close, you're going to be bankrupt, you can't eat, that's why you're going to Oxford to make it back, you have that academic report on tumors in your travel bag, you think Can it be used to defeat the god of death? Put these [-] pages of chips on the table of fate, and the god of death can turn away? Grab a handful of sand and put it in the palm of your hand, what will happen to it? Doctor? God of death wants to harvest Your life is like the sand that escapes from your fingers, you can't keep it."

It took John Watson a long time to squeeze out something that could make a sound to reply to him, "Why... are you telling me this..."

"It's just my way of schmoozing and it seems to scare you."

John Watson felt that something was taken away by him in a trance, some traces deeply imprinted in the depths of John Watson's soul, and Sherlock Holmes filtered his soul waterfall with his delicate fingers, and picked up the treasure from it. Some dark secrets that John Watson usually doesn't want to share with others.

Soup was served, and a bottle of Burgundy from France, expensive enough for a horse alone, was filled, and the door of the wing was closed again, leaving the two of them alone again, face to face. .

"Please." Sherlock hospitablely raised his glass and bumped the rim of the glass he hadn't raised yet, "I'm a stranger, I have nothing to do with you, even if I know your secrets, I won't treat you You are not good, you are just a passenger on the wrong train on my long journey."

John Watson shook his head, "Damn it, damn it, that's not what I care about, how the hell do you know? There is no impenetrable wall, I'm not surprised that there might be a word or two of my erroneous operation, But my academic report, I have never shown it to anyone, never! No one knows that it is 30 pages long! I am the only one in this world who knows! And you have no chance to check my travel bag !How did you know!"

Sherlock hesitated for a moment, and then said: "You are very honest with me, Dr. Watson, so I can't repay you with a lie. I originally planned to do this, to tell you a little lie, just like countless times in my life. The lie that was announced to the outside world once, was fooled in front of you. But I don’t know why, I can’t lie when I look at you, because you don’t hide the truth from me, you don’t even give me a sophistry, but very Sorry, I can neither lie to you nor tell you the truth. There are some things I can't tell you, but I can promise that my stories, my history have nothing to do with you, and I promise I haven't followed you, I have never started to investigate you, you and I, we will not delay or owe, and later, we can break up peacefully. Treat the food and conversation tonight as a strange dream in your life, you can forget, You can also take it out to taste on boring nights, in short, I have no intention of harming you."

After this consolation, John Watson was finally willing to pick up the wine glass, put it under the tip of his nose and sniff it, the wine, he sighed in his heart, when he praised like this, John Watson was sensitive to see Sherlock's satisfied smile for a moment.

"I also think this wine is extremely beautiful and worthy of spreading in the world."

John Watson stopped probing the way of his prophet's speech, and took a long gulp of fine wine, which was half shallow for his usual salary, and then John Watson took a sip of the soup with a spoon, "It's too hot That's it," said John Watson, "but, what a great cook, I've never had such a good soup."

John Watson's frankness once again won him an innocent smile.

"This train is quite strange. It looks like scrap iron. It's rusted on the outside, but it looks like a palace inside. What's the name of this train?"

Sherlock clasped his hands together, touched his fingertips, and placed them between his beautiful lips. His teeth were white and shone with a sharp cold light.

"Scarlet Rebirth."

John Watson weighed it carefully, "Even the name is terribly strange. Why did you choose this name? It sounds like it was chosen on the spur of the moment."

"You're half right. It was taken on a whim, but it wasn't random. This train has its own special mission. This mission is given to it by me for personal reasons. I'm not the so-called conductor of the train, but I There is no doubt that it is the owner of this train. I will travel along this line from London to Edinburgh, traveling repeatedly, the route is indeterminate, I can travel on this railway tonight and haunt another railway tomorrow night , this train has both comfort and privacy, I am more like a passenger than a master. This train carries a dream, a purpose, Scarlet Reborn, it seeks allies, but also encounters enemies, many enemies, all kinds Come, there are countless. The details have nothing to do with you, and if you force me, I will lie to you, so stop asking."

At this moment, Sherlock's eyes hardened, but then softened and smiled, "You just need to know that I own and control this train, a mysterious fire dragon in the wilderness. I'm afraid you will recognize me at the first sight." Not a resident of London."

"Yes, your clothes are as weird as this train."

"I really like my windbreaker jacket. I only have this style of jacket in my closet. There are dozens of them, and they all look the same. They have big collars and big pockets, which is very good for me. Alright," Sherlock seemed to be choosing his words carefully, "cloak."

During the engrossing conversation, the main course arrived.

The chicken John Watson ordered was beautifully roasted and perfectly crisped, and he saw off a leg and ate it hungrily.

On Sherlock's plate was a thick steak, bright red and tender, soaked in blood and sauce.

John Watson looked at the steak, which was so tender that there was almost no trace of frying, as if it was cut directly from the back of the cow and served on his plate. A few slices of green fennel were symbolically dotted to increase the ornamental value. Locke handled the steak deftly and easily, the knife gliding across the meat like cutting butter, never stopping.

Not hacking and sawing like John Watson.

Sherlock held the fork like an old and traditional nobleman, always laying down the knife before switching hands for the fork.

John Watson has to admit that Sherlock's pale and slender hands are both powerful and elegant, very charming, always leading John Watson's eyes to follow them vaguely, John Watson is very surprised that he just now would think it was a woman's hand.

These hands are white, but powerful, as firm as the white keys of a piano in an opera house.

John Watson chopped open the breast of the second chicken. "Go on," he said, "I'm listening."

Sherlock smiled again, very indifferently, "No one has ever been willing to listen to me say so much. They usually run out to call the police when they insist on the third sentence."

"You have to admit that your speech and behavior are really weird, and I don't understand why I just sat down and listened to you."

"Because you are brave and invincible."

This time it was John Watson's turn to laugh heartily, and took a sip of wine happily. He had already drunk the second round, "I have such a crazy idea, such a hypothesis, assuming that if I don't get off the train later, What's going to happen next? Is this train going to some unimaginable haunted place? Is this going to give me a luxury and freedom ride?"

"Luxury? Freedom?" Sherlock pondered. He raised his head and looked at the top of the pale carriage, causing John Watson to follow him and look up at the empty ceiling.

"What's up there, Mr. Holmes?"

"Scythe, the sickle of harvesting." Sherlock finished speaking vaguely, lowered his head, the shadow of his eyelashes covered his eye sockets, some of his actions, to be honest, John Watson didn't want to admit it, but he had to admit it. There is such an unspeakable charm in the gestures of Rock Holmes, a kind of shocking power, a kind of seductive temperament, which captivates the soul and makes people shake.

John Watson protested weakly, eating the dessert that had just been served, which was so delicious that he was attached to it, "Well, Mr. Holmes, your words are so inscrutable that no fool can understand them."

John Watson felt that there seemed to be a hint of mockery in the other party's words, and Sherlock snorted softly, "Who says you are not an idiot? Walking on the train speaks volumes about your IQ. Only an idiot would dance on a cliff with your eyes closed. You are an idiot."

John Watson reprimanded him in a rough voice, still holding the fork in his hand, his cheeks were swollen with food, "I am an honest man, not a freak who loves to tell others, if you confront me, you will be at a disadvantage , can you understand this situation?"

John Watson felt that the train was decelerating, braked slowly on the rails, and the car swayed forward, then swayed back, until it came to a stop.

The 30-minute fantasy encounter did not expect to end so soon. John Watson was still holding his fork in a daze. The time passed so fast, which made him a little bit sad. The dinner between the two announced a paragraph.

Sherlock Holmes didn't seem to be as sentimental as he was, and he didn't show any nostalgia or reluctance on his face. He said calmly, "Get out of the car, John Watson, the outside world belongs to you."

The author has something to say:

After a day, the author finally came to update, I hope you didn't abandon me

Let me start with a New Year's message, I wish the children's shoes are tall and big, and they will still gobble up and be happy in the new year

It’s Chinese New Year, as soon as you bookmark it, give it to the author as a red envelope [Star Eyes]

Shining tears for collection, comments, and idiom Solitaire (what the hell?

Do you think I don't read the comments, what a joke, can the author who doesn't read the comments sleep

The next chapter will be updated on January 1, New Year's Eve