[Comprehensive British and American] When the "real" Wes met Jarvis

"You don't seem to be doing well?"

Holding a pumpkin pie and chewing and chewing, Zhen Weisi leaned against the door and looked at Harry who was hard at cutting the ingredients. After watching for a few minutes, he couldn't help but speak.

"Actually, it's okay." Harry raised his head and smiled at Zhen Weisi.

Well, it doesn't look very good. After all, the murderous look in this smile cannot be concealed at all. Zhen Weisi swallowed the last bite of the last pumpkin pie, and then came to such a conclusion.

He walked in, glanced at the wriggling, mucus-secreting creature in the bucket, and clicked, "This is the slug?"

Reaching out to grab a slug out of the bucket, Harry smiled wryly because he couldn't wear gloves and had to feel the touch with his own hands, "Yes, isn't it disgusting?"

In fact, Zhen Weisi had seen something more disgusting than this when he was on a mission before, but he had to admit that if he could, no one wanted to feel this kind of creature.

"Obviously I need that professor's help, why would he make things difficult for you?" Zhen Weisi was a little puzzled.

"Probably because he dislikes me more than you." Harry replied without thinking, looking as if he had gotten used to it.

Zhen Weisi looked at Harry sympathetically. He glanced at the portrait hanging in the potion room. The man in the painting was wearing a gorgeous old-style robe. Even though he was watching Harry, his expression looked extremely haughty. .

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

After all, this is about himself. Although Zhen Weisi has a bit of a bad temper, he still won't just watch from the sidelines.

But Harry refused his help, "Professor Snape will probably come up with more tricks if someone helps."

Although the feeling of slugs is difficult to describe, it has to be said that Harry is used to it. After all, when he was a student, Snape watched his every move and devoted himself to using different reasons every day. To punish him, in fact, if he didn't say it, he felt a little underhanded, and Harry felt that he actually missed this feeling a little bit.

Because many people left in that war.

Even Professor Snape's sarcasm sounded less nasty than before, Harry thought.

So, he won't be angry.

With a click, the tip of the silver knife sank into the chopping board due to too much force.

Harry silently pulled out the silver knife.

He wasn't angry at all.

Zhen Weisi looked at his brother in name, and blinked. He thought that Harry probably forgot about coming out of the principal's office angrily yesterday.

Apart from being able to hand Harry a small silver knife and some small tools, Zhen Weisi couldn't help him much.He simply pulled up a chair and sat down, propping his chin and watching Harry deal with the wizarding world materials.Because Zhen Weisi had never seen it before, it wasn't too boring.

Until Ginny came in and told Zhen Weisi that someone had contacted him with an owl.

The inability to use electrical appliances in the wizarding world is probably the only bad thing. Anyway, Zhen Weisi's ability is not the same here. Apart from the fact that he can use magic supplies, it shows that he still has the blood of a wizard. Other times it's almost like a Muggle.

Ginny handed Zhen Weiss a letter, and he opened it. When he saw that the corners of each letter on the letter were perfectly curved, he didn't need to read the contents to know the letter. The owner must be Mycroft.

Can anyone be more OCD than him?

The content of the letter is very concise, so concise that in the eyes of others, it is almost like guessing riddles——

Sherlock.

know.

see.

Zhen Weisi shook the envelope, he read it over and over several times, and finally determined that McCoff not only had obsessive-compulsive disorder, but also a late-stage lazy cancer.

Will my hand break if I write one more word? !

At this moment, Zhen Weisi really wanted to post the white eyes to McCoff, and tell his brother his disgusting attitude towards this letter.

But he still understood what Mycroft meant, which was telling him that Sherlock already knew of his existence, and he wanted to see him.

and many more.

When returning to the room with the envelope, Zhen Weisi suddenly thought of a question.

seem……

like……

From the time he met Mykoff until now when he recalled the past, no one seemed to have informed Sherlock. Zhen Weisi recalled it not long ago, but it is impossible for Mykoff to forget. Zhenwei always thought that Mycroft had already notified Sherlock.

But look at the letter...

Zhen Weisi confirmed one thing.

The relationship between the three brothers is probably that kind of plastic brotherhood.

Baker Street, 221b Apartment.

A big detective with brown curly hair is standing by the window, holding his own small figure in his hand, because his eyebrows are lowered, his curly eyelashes are full of presence, his hand is pulling the bowstring, his posture is graceful, and his expression is perfect .

But the roommate, who was sitting in front of the computer and editing his blog, couldn't bear it anymore and turned around, shouting, "Sherlock, can you stop the sound of sawing wood!"

He simply can't write his own blog properly.

The curly-haired detective was unmoved, he was still playing his violin intoxicated, but since the other party was his roommate after all, the wayward detective still replied:

"I've never had a problem with you making noise when I was thinking, John."

Watson once again had the urge to throw his roommate out of the window, but in the end the good-tempered military doctor could only rub his eyebrows with a headache.

Well, he really has nothing to say, after all, he already knows how his wayward roommate can go his own way.

He could only roll his eyes, and then endured the inaudible music, forcing himself to focus on the blog. Although it was a bit difficult, Watson finally managed it. After all, when he was a military doctor, the surrounding people The environment is noisier than that.

But just as he was halfway through writing his blog, he heard his phone ring.

Subconsciously glanced at the mobile phone that was put in his hand, the screen was still black, indicating that no one was looking for him, so the military doctor buried himself in writing a blog again.

Until he realized that the bell was ringing all the time and no one was paying attention, he turned around again and reminded his roommate, "Sherlock, your phone is ringing."

The sound that seemed to be sawing wood paused for a moment, and finally the detective was willing to look up at the good-tempered military doctor, and he said lazily, "I know."

"You know?" Watson couldn't help pointing to the cell phone that kept ringing, "Then why is it still ringing there?"

"Because I'm busy." Sherlock's tone couldn't have sounded more righteous.

"I thought my roommate would know what he was supposed to do."

Watson: ...

"I think one day I can't help but beat you up, Sherlock." The military doctor stood up from the chair, he said this angrily, but still walked to the sofa, bent down and picked up the phone, Then handed it to Sherlock.

"You've already beaten me, John." Sherlock put down his bowstring, his pale gray eyes turned slightly blue-green due to the change of light, looking mysterious and charming, but his tone made people listen Itchy hands.

"Have you entered the age of dementia?"

Before picking up the phone, Sherlock thought he was very kind and said, "Maybe you should go see a doctor, John."

Watson: ...Every day I want to beat up my roommate more than yesterday, how can I break it?

"Sherlock Holmes."

The opening remarks of the big detective's phone calls are always the same, the only difference is probably the tone of his subsequent calls, but this time after connecting the phone, Sherlock did not hear anyone speaking on the other end of the phone.

There wasn't even a sound of breathing, as if someone who didn't exist made the call.

Sherlock lowered his eyes slightly, and his eyes dimmed, showing that he was thinking.

"What's the matter?" Watson, who thought it was just an ordinary phone call, looked puzzled. He felt that Sherlock's expression was different from before, but he found that Sherlock had hung up the phone.

"Huh?" Watson's eyes widened. He looked silly and cute like this.

Sherlock glanced at his partner, "Your mouth is long enough to fit Mr. Horst in."

It took Watson a while to think about who Mr. Horst was, until he finally remembered that it was the head that had been placed in their refrigerator all year round, and at this moment his expression became a little numb.

shit!He shouldn't expect anything good to come out of this guy's mouth.

The phone rang again, but Sherlock threw the phone back on the sofa instead, and continued to play his violin.

"Is it okay not to answer?"

But Sherlock didn't answer him, and seemed to be immersed in his own music world.

Watson felt that being able to continue living with Sherlock was the most courageous thing in his life. He returned to the sofa with a good temper, picked up his phone, glanced at the unfamiliar number on it, and pressed Connect key.

"Hi, I'm Sherlock Holmes' roommate, John Watson."

No one spoke on the phone, and after waiting for more than ten seconds to find that this was still the case, Watson couldn't help frowning.

"Hey, hello? Is anyone there?"

When Watson couldn't help but want to hang up this strange call, a voice finally rang on the other end of the phone.

It's just that the voice was a bit strange, as if someone used a voice changer, accompanied by the sound of electric current, and deliberately lowered the voice:

"I am looking at you."

This sentence made Watson nervous. He winked at Sherlock, covered the phone with his hands, and silently mouthed:

Are we being targeted by perverts again?

Sherlock felt that his roommate was cutely stupid, and he made a long sound before saying, "It's just a prank."

Watson blinked suspiciously, and then he heard the sound of Mrs. Hudson going upstairs, and there was a conversation. Not long after, the door of their room was pushed open, and Watson looked over.

Mrs. Hudson had a smile on her face. She winked at Watson. It seemed that her age did not affect her liveliness. "Good afternoon, Watson."

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Hudson." Watson nodded in response, still holding the phone in his hand, and did not hang up.

A young man came in behind Mrs. Hudson. He had short black hair and green eyes like those beautiful and noble emeralds. He bent his lips towards Watson.

"Hello."

"Hello."

The clear and pleasant voice of the young man overlapped with the strange and deep voice on the phone, which made Watson's eyes widen, and he didn't even respond rudely. He stared dumbfounded at the phone in his hand, then at the young man, and then at Mobile phone, looking at the young man again, repeated several times and almost made himself dizzy.

"Don't force your limited head, John."

Sherlock, who didn't know when he stopped playing the violin, took a step forward. He casually reminded his roommate, and then looked at the young man, raising his eyebrows slightly.

"I thought you were dead, Zhen Weisi."

This greeting...is really Sherlock's, Zhen Weisi laughed.

"I thought you would always keep the character of being lonely, Sherlock." He looked at Watson with a meaningful tone, "I didn't expect you already have a boyfriend."

Watson:? ? ?

Wait, who is Sherlock's boyfriend you're talking about?