Sherlock's Kiss [Fuhua Vampire Colleague]

John Watson stepped off the train, and the temperature outside suddenly rose, wrapping his whole body in warmth. John Watson is a person who lives in the fire, and his whole body is a melting pot. very different.

The wild night air was slightly humid, and John Watson was standing on the dark and lonely weeds with his luggage in his hand. He struck a few small stones with his crutches and echoed.

Sherlock looked agile and elegant, standing on the steps of the car door, the large coat that looked like a shawl, the collar was turned up, the jet-black hair was like seaweed, and his cheeks were hidden in the hazy moonlight.

Dark clouds covered half of the crescent moon, and John Watson's long figure was drawn out on the weeds. He stared back at Sherlock. John Watson was about to say some farewell words, although everything was still blocked in his throat. , but John Watson tried to make the words sound as indifferent as Sherlock said, "I think I should say goodbye."

Sherlock didn't respond, this abrupt goodbye was like a leaf sinking into a swamp, never to return.

The clatter of horseshoes echoed outside the weeds, and a carriage drove up on the yellow mud path without stone bricks. The coachman was wearing a tall beaver leather groomer hat, sitting on a high horse stand, waiting follow the actions of John Watson.

"My God..." John Watson was startled again, dumbfounded.

"I asked my men to send a telegram to the carriage station on the train, asking the driver to come here to pick you up at this point."

"My God." John Watson exclaimed again, "How did you know I needed a carriage? I didn't even mention it in front of you. You can read minds?"

"You just sit on it, there is still time to go to Oxford, don't waste time standing here, your original intention is to hurry up, isn't it, that's why you took my train."

"But, well, this is really surprising," John Watson was grateful to him, looked back at the carriage, and then looked back at the direction of the door, "Thanks..." John Watson was stunned for a while, and the door was closed. It was empty, and the figure of Sherlock had long since disappeared. The rollers of the train started, and John Watson took two steps back, staring at the dimly lit windows.

Under the moonlight, the train moved forward under the shadow of the stars. The huge chimney at the front of the train was emitting mighty steam. The tall chimney pointed directly at the night sky, holding the stars, like a dark tree with weird growths on the top. The white flowers in the sky, the black train galloping forward, were suddenly swallowed by the night, and disappeared in the dark place of the track.

John Watson tried his best to appear normal. Generally speaking, ordinary people would avoid such weird encounters, roll and climb out of the car with their legs on their feet, but John Watson only frowned, and then talked with the mysterious The pale man was alone for 30 minutes.

At 10 o'clock in the evening, the medical conference was in full swing in the small theater next to Oxford University on time. Those boring professional medical terms floated above the vaulted dome. Every seemingly humble research report can actually rewrite medicine. But John Watson's mind-wandering has nothing to do with the lackluster reports, his mind-wandering has to do with a fantastic train.

After the conference, the doctors gathered for supper in a simple country pub. This pub has not yet installed electric lights. Even the wealthy Oxford University has only installed electric motors and light bulbs in a few laboratories. Everyone's drunken faces All were shrouded in candlelight and kerosene lamps, and the doctors were all men without exception. Several generous waitresses shuttled among them carrying beer, which was particularly eye-catching.

Stanford's eyes were so naked/naked on their breasts and small waists in long skirts, "This is not as good as London, not as good, the roads are narrow and bumpy, and the roofs are covered with moss, but Women, these soft and cheerful country women are nothing compared to those phony ladies in London, I am getting tired of ladies, I like sexy/sexy pussy, the kind, you can imagine, paws on the bed Scratch your little one."

John Watson replied vaguely, "Over there, 50 miles to the west, there is a railway there."

"I'm talking about women, but you're talking about railways? What's wrong with railways?"

"That railway runs a non-stop smoking train at night."

"How is it possible! There is only a railway station in Oxfordshire, right in the middle of the town's market. I think about that railway. If you are talking about the west side, there is a large area of ​​weeds and bushes nearby. I know that railway. , It was closed to traffic more than 100 years ago, and it is a historical relic.”

"I also know. I have inquired with the coachman. That railway is not open to traffic at all. Every rail is an antique, but now there is a train running on it. The speed is like an arrow leaving the string. The wheels Keep rubbing Mars out in orbit.”

"Are you drinking too much, Dr. Watson?"

John Watson stared at the dark corner of the bar. "Every window is lit, as if full of people, but when you walk in, you can't hear any noise inside."

Stanford couldn't connect with his conversation, "Dr. Watson? Are you feeling unwell? Your mind is full of cranky thoughts?"

"I'm fine. I'm really tired. I sat in the carriage for more than an hour, and I went to the hotel to stay."

John Watson left this lively little bar silently. He didn't like crowded places tonight. Something was lingering in his chest and he couldn't breathe. But can't sleep.

He deeply recalled the tactile sensation when he let go of the pulse of the prostitute, the skin of the dead, it was not the first time he touched a dead person, but the prostitute was the first to die in his hand, The look in her eyes, oh, the look in her eyes... Of all the things that John Watson has been through, this is almost the most terrible.

She will always be with me.

John Watson closed his eyes on the pillow, and he never forgot the look in her eyes.

Grab a handful of sand and put it in your palm, what will happen to it?doctor?

The cold voice appeared ethereally in John Watson's ears. He quickly opened his eyes, facing the dark room where there was nothing but his own breathing. The sound on the train made him unforgettable forever.

Why did that Sherlock Holmes say such things to him, he treated Watson like a butterfly with a broken wing, his voice was like a caress, it had a calming effect, it flowed through Watson's veins, he knew Watson did evil Meng also knew the fear in Watson's heart.

There are more doctors in London than there are bricks piled up under the castle, but the whore just went to John Watson, that beautiful but sick woman, she trusted John Watson to find him, but John Watson Having failed her trust and expectations, John Watson buried her body in the cemetery with his own hands.If he hadn't made a mistake, the woman was still alive, even if she was just lingering on her last breath, she would always be alive.

As long as you are human, you must die, Doctor.

John Watson felt that he couldn't sleep tonight. The train that appeared on the abandoned track was not innocent. The man was extremely intelligent, his strange and ancient behavior, and his misty eyes told him everywhere. different.

John Watson protects himself very well in front of people, and never reveals his true intentions. He is honest, but he also hides something. He only shows his side that he is willing to make public, such as his perseverance, his courage, his He is willing to show these in his body and language, but John Watson's fragility, he will not share half of these ghost things with others.

He never told Stanford the whole truth of his mind.John Watson was very worried. If Stanford and other friends around him knew that he had made an operation error, they would never look at him as clearly as before. Even John Watson's name would not appear at the medical conference tonight. , together with John Watson's clinic, his apartment, the reputation he has built, and even his life will collapse, and he will be completely abandoned and isolated by those decent gentlemen.By then the victim would not be just the dead woman.

John Watson was blessed in the armor he made, but now the armor was shattered by a single blow.

The man could sense John Watson's fear.

The next afternoon, John Watson took an ordinary train back to London in the Oxfordshire market. His return journey was the same as Stanford. The train was extremely ordinary. There were voices of discussion, children crying behind their heads, Stanford in front of them kept shaking newspapers, and John Watson was holding a cup of warm coffee in his hand.

"Doctor Stanford, what's the name of this train?"

"This trip we ran under our ass? Isn't it printed on your ticket, Elizabeth."

"I was on the Victory once when I was in Edinburgh."

"There are also Dream, Sunrise, and Lady, which often appear in newspapers. They run very diligently on the railway and have carried many famous writers. The newspapers grasp this point and write vigorously. How many people are doing nothing? Rich people pay several times the price to sit in the seats where the literary giants sat."

John Watson has no interest in this kind of report without passion. His topic still stays somewhere, on a dragon wandering in the wilderness with its shadow.

"Did you find that these are good names, names that people talk about, have you ever heard of the Scarlet Rebirth?"

"Dr. Watson is talking about a train? If it's a train," Stanford raised his hand to support his fat double chin, his small eyes fixed on the tip of John Watson's nose, "don't you think this name is...unlucky? It reminds me of blood, murder, death, etc. The name is a bit distorted and bloody. People don't expect to get on this kind of train, at least I don't dare to sit on it. There are railway companies in the world Putting such a horrible name on your own train? Incredible."

John Watson just smiled lightly, "This name carries dreams."

"What dangerous strange dream has something to do with blood?"

"I don't know about that. Anyway, I appreciate the name." John Watson turned the handle of the cup in his hand thoughtfully.

John Watson spent a day in London pondering the excitement related to that train. He was not like this on weekdays. He had never been so lost. It seemed that half of his body was forgotten on the Scarlet Rebirth.

The train called him in the night, the owner of the train seduced him.

John Watson lived a life without knowing the day and night. One evening after a week, he took a walk after dinner, and his crutches kept guiding the way by his feet. His disability was his only flaw, but this limping gait Affecting his personality, John Watson is popular among women, as well as men. Men like to talk to him. He is a doctor who is willing to listen and is good at comforting people.

He comforted those patients who were deeply injured. His voice carried the gentleness of a doctor. Before anesthesia, he gently comforted the patients who were disturbed by anesthesia. The heartbeat of those patients was relaxed by his comfort.

But no one, like the man in the dream, has ever comforted him persuasively.

John Watson raised his head, and was surprised to find that he had unknowingly walked to the London railway station. The station stopped operating after 7 o'clock, and the sunset died down, and the entire building was covered in night.

John Watson couldn't control the drive in his heart, and walked inside like a maniac. He suppressed the sound of his crutches, avoided the security police who were watching the night beside the station, and slipped into the station. The ticket counter was empty, and the ancient clock was still there At 7:45 a.m. dutifully, John Watson walked quietly down the stairs on which he had lost a pocket watch, and down the platform to stand under a dying kerosene lamp.

These kerosene lamps have calculated their weight, and when they stop at the station, the lamp oil will be consumed to the end.

Without thinking about it, he jumped off the platform and climbed up to the opposite place where he had gotten on the wrong train. All the open rail tracks were empty and dimly lit. He realized that he shouldn't be standing here, his Survival instinct and intuition are clamoring, but he can't resist, oh, he admits it, he loves this dangerous feeling, he shouldn't be standing here, but it's this "shouldn't" that strongly attracts him.

John Watson looked at the gloomy and cold railway paved with gravel, and he breathed out nervously. The surrounding air, the carriages outside and the voices of people were all completely quiet at this moment. The moon had long since come out, and the moonlight engulfed his body The figure, he knows nothing about the future, and has no nostalgia for the past, he is ordinary and ordinary, living a seemingly unfettered but actually boring life, yes, just like those medical reports.

Every page, every word counts, but nobody really likes those words.His days and hours were precious, but John Watson never really liked them.

John Watson closed his eyes, the apex of his heart was constricting, and the invisible oppression hit him. When he opened his eyes again, he felt that his back was secretly sweating. John Watson did not turn around, but slowly Turning his face to the side, a figure stood silently beside his shoulder. John Watson didn't know where he came from, let alone where he was going.

"You stand here stupidly, I think you're waiting for me." Sherlock's voice was so cold that his bones trembled.

John Watson couldn't deny it, but he was still stubborn, "I didn't mean to wait for you, I just took a walk."

Sherlock walked completely behind his shoulder into the moonlight, and those eyes met his again, and for a moment, as Sherlock gazed at John Watson, there was a strange impulse in Sherlock's gray eyes, that crazy longing, but It comes and goes as fast as it goes.

All of a sudden, the shadow disappeared, except for being indifferent or indifferent.

John Watson swallowed, "Where's your train?"

"Started a bit slower tonight, it's maintenance day, gotta put some oil on it, refuel it, it'll come later, but it's not on this track, it's on the opposite track, you miss it so much ?”

I think of people, not trains.

John Watson smiled silently, and Sherlock also turned to smile at him, and one sentence hit John Watson's heart, "No, Doctor Watson, you are thinking about something else, something else, long hands and feet."

John Watson immediately restrained his smile. He felt that he couldn't hide anything in front of Sherlock. It seemed that he would see through everything he thought in his heart. His face was inexplicably hot, "I didn't mean that, what I thought was... ..." John Watson's voice was interrupted suddenly, "What I think is..." John Watson's heart beat faster, it was a sense of alertness that a threat was rampantly approaching him, the threat was obviously far away from him, and the next The second was violently transmitted to his back, and John Watson had no time to react, the speed and power came too fast.

Just when he felt that he was about to be torn apart, Sherlock raised his hand and firmly held the sharp claws that appeared beside John Watson's face.

John Watson blinked his eyes in the moonlight in surprise, and he finally saw clearly that it was not a real sharp claw, but a hand with sharp nails, as white and noble as Sherlock.

For some unknown reason, it stayed so close to his neck.This frightened John Watson so much that he almost froze and couldn't move.

"Brother, thank you for being able to bear it, you just woke up like me, you haven't eaten anything, and you can still stand here and talk about love with an innocent face." Mycroft was dragged out of the shadow by Sherlock, Exposed to the moonlight, he was dressed similarly to the last time I saw him. The style of the luxurious coat was still weird, but it was changed to a jewel gray color.

He shook off Sherlock's hand, pulled his vest, and stood by the platform with his hands behind his back reluctantly. John Watson heard the sound of the train axle coming from the depths of the darkness, the low-key click, Clicking, like a mysterious boa constrictor slowly sliding into the throat of the platform, the dark and heavy front of the car appeared in front of John Watson's eyes, and the car stopped here for a short time.

Sherlock pulled a small bottle from his pocket and threw it into his brother's arms. "Drink it, Mycroft, you've gone too far tonight."

Mycroft frowned, as if drinking the contents of the bottle would give him a splitting headache, he unscrewed the bottle cap in disdain and took a sip, just as he was about to lift his foot, Sherlock held his shoulder beside him , staring at the carriage on the opposite platform with him, "Jump down, walk over, climb up."

"You wouldn't let me climb up and down for such a person."

Sherlock smiled. "This will be interesting, Mycroft. How long has it been since you touched the floor with your palm?"

While talking, the purser in dark uniform walked out of the first car at the front of the car, leaned on the door of the car with arms folded, and looked at the two brothers from a distance, "I said if you two linger for a while, I will Take this train to the scrap iron factory and sell it for two catties."

His voice was faint and echoed in the distance.

Mycroft glared at his younger brother fiercely, jumped off the platform on foot, and then turned over while propping up the opposite stone steps. His movements were light and flexible, and in a blink of an eye, he was on the opposite side. Wiping the dust off his hands, he walked towards the purser who was looking interesting.

Sherlock also jumped off the platform here, raised his head on the rails and glanced at the tall John Watson, "Farewell again, if I'm not wrong, you still want to come tomorrow night, but I advise you, stop here Well, go back to your daily life, stay honestly in your clinic, live your little life with bubbles, you don’t want to die, right, at that moment just now, you really don’t want to die, Then I will tell you frankly, if you don’t want to die, don’t approach me.”

"Your train doesn't carry passengers?"

Sherlock denied him, "I carry passengers, but I don't carry people like you."

John Watson frowned, and Sherlock saw his expression too.

John Watson hated him a little, "I'm not afraid of death. I don't want to die, but it doesn't mean I'm cowardly. You can't be a cowardly person on this train. I'm not a cowardly person."

John Watson jumped down, he grabbed his crutches, and crossed in front of Sherlock angrily, with his arms strenuously propping up the stone steps that reached to his shoulders, and climbing up, he knelt on the ground and grabbed the crutches , stood up awkwardly again, and then cried out, "Damn!"

Sherlock didn't know when he stood steadily behind him, didn't hear him climbing at all, and hid his hands in his coat pockets so elegantly, "But my train doesn't take outsiders, especially you. Ordinary guests, you have a career and a family, but the people who get on my train have to abandon their homes and everything.”

John Watson pursed his thin and bright lips, and then let go, "If you don't take it, don't take it. I just watch you get on the train. I won't come back tomorrow. I forget you, forget this train and everything that day. dialogue."

I don't know why I heard Sherlock's melancholy sigh, "It's up to you, maybe you will remember it in your dreams, I don't mind you thinking about it in your daily life, but you have to forget it, so forget it."

"Let me think about it?! Let me think about it but don't allow me to get close to it. Then I might as well forget about it all, as if nothing happened. The kind of thing that can only be thought about but not touched makes people feel uncomfortable, you know? !"

John Watson was stunned for a moment, he watched Sherlock Holmes change his stern face, "I swear, John Watson, no one in this world can experience it more profoundly than me, I can only think that I can't touch it. experience.” Sherlock stepped into a carriage and stood on the cast-iron steps, “It’s really uncomfortable, but for you, it’s something you can get rid of. The things you encounter, this train includes For me, time will make you forget, you will be uncomfortable for two days, and then all the memories will fade in three meals a day, doctor, we just met by chance, don't remember it anymore." The train is about to move, Sherlock Station On the steps, the figure began to move forward, leaving John Watson on crutches alone on the platform.

John Watson heard something else in the sound of the whirling gears. He followed Sherlock's eyes and looked straight at the station. Two huge brown horses jumped down from the top of the tall stairs, and their iron hooves the size of human faces smashed into the station. On the brick floor of the station, a man and a woman immediately pointed at Sherlock Holmes with a gleaming silver double-barreled shotgun.

My brother poked his head out from the front of the car, his expression was still elegant, but somewhat anxious, "I didn't mean to interrupt your love conversation, but hunters Donovan and Anderson are visiting, we have to speed up, don't talk to me. Your little doctor is getting bored."

John Watson felt the bullet go out with his own intuition, and his innate intuition made him embark on a fantastic journey. John Watson lunged forward, hugging Sherlock Holmes' body, with a bang. The burning bullet was not aimed at the target. It scraped across the already dilapidated carriage and bounced off it, leaving several scratches. Now John Watson understood where those mottled marks came from.

The two huddled together at the door of the carriage, and the wheels accelerated.

The two gigantic horses were controlled extremely steadily. They climbed over several floors of platforms, carrying ruthless shotguns, and unswervingly chased behind the fast-moving rear of the car.

John Watson raised his head from his arms, the doctor's forehead was scratched on the narrow door, bright red stuck to his short golden bangs, and the back of his hand was also oozing blood from the rough iron floor , "Mr. Holmes! Are you all right?" John Watson raised his arms from him.

The pair of fresh snow-like hands were placed on John Watson's face, and he looked at Sherlock's pupils burning with fire of desire. John Watson didn't know what he did wrong, but let him conjure up such a fierce and cruel expression. With a possessive face, John Watson thought he could wait for a thank you, but what he waited for was the strong and powerful fingers, grabbed John Watson's neck, and tightened his trachea, John Watson Suddenly aroused goosebumps all over.

The author has something to say:

About whether Xiaohua will be first embraced and then assimilated into a vampire

The author currently has two lines. Of course, Fuhua lives forever in an ancient tomb, raises bees and sleeps together in the same bed. It is the ultimate wish of the author.

But the human Xiaohua is too cute, I really can't bear to let him drink blood for a living from now on

Xiaohua will definitely agree to live a married life with Xiaoxia

but never promise a burlesque honeymoon or anything

January 1st, the first day of the new year, tomorrow I will update it early in the morning