The light rain continued to fall on the streets, the crunchy sound and the breeze floated into the wide open windows, and the fireplace still burned vigorously, like the branches of the trees that never lose their vitality in the spring, sprouting and blossoming.

In a typical weather, there would be a melodious violin in 221b, and Mrs. Hudson would sit at the window, make herself a hot cup of coffee, and snuggle up on the single sofa to flip through fashion magazines—if Henry wasn't at home, but Henry was rarely away.

John would write a blog about Sherlock's last case, listen to melodious music, and perhaps grit his nails and wonder how to come up with a nice and realistic name for the case.

Lestrade is probably the only one who works hard in the rain – after all, the likelihood of a murder in such weather is always higher than on a sunny day.

But at this time, there was nothing in 221b, no melodious piano sound, no vibrant flames, not even a single figure, only silence.

With a "click", the door lock downstairs suddenly opened, and outside the door, a footstep wearing red rain boots stepped in.

The footsteps moved slowly, as if exploring the inch of land in this side of the apartment, groping carefully, like walking through a maze.

On the other hand, the people who should have been at home were all gathered in the Sherlock Holmes mansion.

"Sherlock, you should rest for a while." John walked into Sherlock's room with a bowl of pasta - Connie's room, to be exact, Sherlock's former study, which was later remodeled and inhabited by Connie, has remained the same for five years, and Bruce, the butler, always cleans it regularly.

He had listened to Bruce talk about their past the night before, something he had never heard Sherlock talk about, and at the same time he felt new and closer to Sherlock.

After all, as a friend, he has always felt that he has nothing in common with Sherlock, he is like a machine, even if there are some microhuman emotions, it can't last long, and Bruce's narration allows him to meet another living Sherlock.

A Sherlock with human emotions, his childhood, his Connie.

Connie was like a switch for him, the last link between him and society.

John didn't know whether to be happy or worried, but he was undoubtedly happy for his friend.

Sherlock was still sitting on the couch, he didn't sit on the edge of the bed and looked at Connie, it looked more like he was in a daze, but John just knew that all his thoughts were on the bed.

"Let's have something to eat." Despite only a few hours of sleep, John's spirits were not bad, and looking at Sherlock's appearance, he must have not slept all night, although he didn't look much different from those who didn't.

Sherlock looked up, his eyes seemed to be focused, glanced at John, took the bowl of pasta, and ate it slowly, one bite at a time.

This surprised John.

He opened his mouth, not knowing what to say, and paused for a long time before speaking again: "Do you want anything else?" ”

Sherlock's hand suddenly stopped, John was stunned, saw his head turn to Connie on the bed, put down the plate in his hand, and sighed: "You eat first, the doctor said she might still sleep......"

"Hmm......" The moment Sherlock got up, Connie let out a faint murmur.

The corners of John's mouth stiffened, and when he looked over, he found that the person on the bed had stretched out his hands outside the quilt and stretched out a long lazy waist, as if he had slept for a long time.

He looked at Sherlock as if he were in sight.

"How do you know?!" Is Sherlock's reasoning ability already terrifying to this extent?

Sherlock's dark eyes glanced at the surprised John, and walked to the bedside, where he saw the little face, flushed with a puffy pink, like a freshly ripe red apple.

Connie seemed to have slept for a long time, and sighed contentedly as soon as she became conscious.

#一种从未有过的饱足感#

She closed her eyes happily, not fully awakened, squinted her eyes and bent the corners of her mouth, suddenly felt a warm touch on her cheeks, opened her eyes slightly, and saw a pair of gentle eyes, beautiful turquoise back to the light, but still revealed a trace of strange brilliance, which made her sigh in her heart.

What beautiful eyes.

#然后才发现那是夏洛克#

Connie was stunned for a moment, looking at Sherlock who was close at hand, and there was a hint of sluggishness in her eyes.

The whole person looks even more stupid.

Sherlock looked at the face, pursed her lips, and reached down with her right hand caressing her cheek, through the gap between her slender neck and the pillow, one hand enough to hold half of her head.

The moment Connie sat up, the door was pushed open, and the fragrant seafood porridge was pushed in the dining cart, and the person who pushed the door in, wearing a pair of reading glasses, walked in with a smile on his face.

"The porridge is ready."

Connie's misty eyes suddenly lit up: "Grandpa Bruce! ”

"Connie." Bruce laughed and called out to Connie, his voice full of love.

John petrified on the couch.

#我大概是住了一个假的福尔摩斯家#

#并且和一个假的布鲁斯畅谈了一夜#

If Sherlock deduced the exact time of Connie's awakening, how did Bruce know that?

After thinking about it, John couldn't help but ask.

Bruce smiled lightly: "It's just a coincidence, I will have three meals ready." ”

John Muran.

#他才不信#

#这一定是谎言#

Connie was picked up by Sherlock and fed her first mouthful of porridge, and her memories began to return.

Alas?!

Connie thought of those blue eyes, and her hands suddenly pressed the porridge that Sherlock fed, "What happened after I passed out?"

Sherlock looked at her silently, not saying a word. But that look made Connie feel a little dangerous, the danger of silence.

"Sherlock?" She scratched her head, and a pair of pure eyes looked straight at him, with a look full of innocence.

He pursed his lips and blinked his eyelids, his drooping eyelashes revealing a shadow under his eyelids, like a dark cloud in winter.

In an instant, Connie sensed his unhappiness.

That kind of heartfelt, unhappy emotion.

She asked a little hurriedly, looking at Sherlock worriedly, "What's wrong?" What happened? ”

Is it a tragic event?

But then I thought of the blue-eyed girl, and I felt that it was impossible, since she recognized that sentence, then she shouldn't ...... Thinking of this, she was stunned for a moment, and suddenly asked with some worry, "Is she okay?"

Sherlock looked at him abruptly, but still didn't say a word.

Bruce realized the stormy atmosphere and silently exited the room.

John, on the other hand, did not have as much wisdom in life as he did.

"Jasmine is fine, as for you, the doctor said that you only had a slight concussion, and you can rest for two days." Connie says "she", so John takes it for granted that Connie is referring to Jasmine.

But Sherlock knew that Connie wasn't asking.

"They're gone." Finally, Sherlock snapped up.

Connie breathed a sigh of relief, it was fine.

But when I thought of that girl with Moriarty, I couldn't help but worry about her.

The strange silence between the two left John scratching his head again.

Connie obediently drank a bowl of porridge, and the whole person came back to life.

"The chef's skills are still so good...... "She smashed her mouth and lay back down.

Sherlock went out with the plate, Connie glanced at his back, waited for him to be far away, turned around, and whispered cautiously, "What's wrong with him?" I've been weird since I woke up......"

John shook his head speechlessly: "I don't know, he's been weird since he came back......" I thought that when Connie woke up, he would be happy, but it turned out that he was not sad or happy, and the atmosphere was gloomy.

#夏洛克 Holmes is probably someone he can't figure out in his life#

Connie tilted her head as she looked at his tired face.

After two days of rest, Connie jumped out of bed again.

#至今不懂轻微脑震荡是怎么整出来的#

Fortunately, in the past two days, Sherlock's mood has improved a lot, no longer gloomy, and has returned to his original facial paralysis appearance, allowing Connie to make coffee at every turn.

Although he was accused by everyone of calling a newly recovered patient, he still insisted on going his own way and did not drink the coffee that was not made by Connie.

And Connie was relieved!

#她不懂自己#

During the nap, Connie finished her routine coffee and was about to lie on the bed to read a book, when she suddenly remembered the whirring sound outside the window.

It was the sound of planes flying by.

But apparently, that plane did not fly "past".

After arguing for two minutes, Connie felt that something was wrong, why was the voice getting louder and louder?

She got up and ran to the window to look, only to see a helicopter landing on the wide lawn, and a shiny bald head was getting out of the plane.

There was no one but McCroft.

She got back on the bed and continued to read, anyway, Mycroft came back either to find Sherlock or John and Sherlock to solve the case, and it didn't have much to do with her anyway.

#flag立得太早吃枣药丸#

Half an hour later, Connie was moved to the living room like statues by two men in black.

#麦考夫这性子是越来越急了呢......#

“boring!” As she opened the door, Connie heard Sherlock's grumbling.

And he was holding a bunch of photos in his hand at this time, the first one was an extremely amorous woman, wearing a black lace sexy lingerie, holding a black whip in her hand, and the other was being bitten by her red lips.

It looks like a sexy woman is going to be tempted.

Glancing at the man in black who had moved her over, she suddenly realized something. 166 Reading Network