Still alive!

With Nightingale, as long as she is alive, it is the best news.

She rushed into the cave with all her might, and saw the emaciated body leaning against the ice wall, and for a moment, she didn't even recognize the other party, covered in blood frozen into red ice, pale and almost one with the surrounding snow Rong, a messy hair stained with sticky plasma, and blown open by the cold wind, fixed, and the stubble on his face made him look like a miserable tramp.

Nightingale's heart was beating wildly, she felt sadness, resentment, and self-blame, but at the same time there was still some grievance, although as long as she was here, then the man in front of her would not die, but seeing his appearance, it seemed that she could think of how much suffering he had endured during this time, and how much suffering he had suffered.

Although he fell into the gates of hell because he saved himself.

But just like all women will uncontrollably lose part of their ability to think logically when they are excited, Nightingale's aggrieved heart is trembling.

Why did it take so long for you to come back.

Why should I feel self-blame every day for more than a year?

Why did I reappear when I was used to despair.

It's disgusting!

What a bastard!

You have to apologize to me, apologize seriously!

She muttered completely unreasonable words over and over again in her heart, but she suddenly pounced on it, hugged the cold body, and the temperature changed from one to another in the hug, and her eyes were gradually blurred.

The soldiers around them were a little overwhelmed.

Some people outside the cave were also stunned, they looked at each other, not knowing what to do at all, Nightingale hugged a man Although a long time ago, in the army, I heard that there seemed to be a relationship between these two people, but when they really saw this scene, people were still a little difficult to accept.

But when I thought of this man's identity again, I was relieved.

So next.

Anyway, Lady Nightingale was here, and no one would die, so the people around her began to cautiously exit the cave, no longer disturbing the reunion of the man and woman.

The improvised rescue army moved steadily out of the mountains and through the flat snow, their tracks crushing the frozen ground and making a clattering sound, a feeling that reassured Sherlock, who hadn't heard it in over a year.

The scorching sun and yellow sand on one side, the cold wind and frozen soil on the other, this kind of contrast deliberately constructed in the middle, I didn't expect to let my life experience really stage.

In the cockpit of a field ambulance, Sherlock and Nightingale felt the slight swaying beneath them, as if they were sitting in a boat on a stream, their noses were full of the smell of disinfectant water, and their ears were full of dull engine roars, but their heartbeats and breathing were so clear.

Nightingale was slightly sleepy, her hand kept holding Sherlock's hand, which seemed to be swaying slightly because the car had picked up a piece of broken ice, and Nightingale opened her eyes, and the two men looked at each other in the somewhat cramped compartment.

"As for holding it all the time?" Sherlock said with some embarrassment.

In the past year, when he faced this face, his first reaction was to run quickly, who made Lilith have Nightingale genes, the two of them look so similar.

But now, he was holding hands with the owner of this pretty face in a crowded environment, and the feeling was too delicate for him.

"Of course, in London before, I didn't faint after treating you once, and now although I don't seem to have any big problems, who knows if I will suddenly have a serious illness and die directly."

"I just went to hell, and didn't I drink all the petri dishes in the virus bank of the Academy of Life Sciences, is it so scary?" Sherlock smiled wryly.

"I'm a doctor, so I'll do what I say!" Nightingale said, then clenched it tighter, feeling the touch coming from the palm of her hand, and she added:

"Okay, I admit that I have some affection for you, but the current hand-holding is just based on the relationship between the patient and the patient, and you don't have psychological pressure."

This kind of thing would seem extremely narcissistic if anyone else said it, but it seemed extremely reasonable to Nightingale.

Sherlock still remembers the day about two years ago, when he was blocked by reporters at the door of the rear camp in the Reddeck Strait, with the microphone about to be inserted into his mouth.

"I have a lot of questions I want to ask, but I don't know what to ask for a while." Nightingale leaned into the carriage, and as she had said before, there was always a sense of relief when she was next to Sherlock, and now this feeling evaporated exponentially in her heart, so that she now wanted to talk about something after a long separation, but it was stuck in her throat.

Outside the ambulance was a blue sky that had not been seen for a long time, a golden sun, and Sherlock had discovered many secrets on the other side of the space-time rift, and if these secrets were revealed, they would definitely plunge the whole world into the most terrible chaos, the kind that could not be dragged back.

But he didn't care about this, just smiled and said:

"Your summoned demon is a humanoid, you know that, right?"

"Well, haven't you seen it?" Nightingale responded, wondering why Sherlock was asking the question out of the blue.

"So, if there are still many beings like your contract demon in hell, you should be able to accept it."

The girl in front of her nodded, as a party concerned, of course she could accept it, but vaguely, she felt that there must be something more terrible about to subvert her cognition.

really

"On the other side of hell, there are human beings, cities, civilizations, governments, high-rise buildings, roads, schools, hospitals, and you, in fact, are originally from that world."

In a very ordinary tone, the man in front of him leaned on the stretcher bed in the ambulance, and said the words that made Nightingale's whole body tremble violently with great calmness.

She was frozen in the carriage like this, even if she had traveled the world since she was a child, and then she was used to seeing deaths, injuries and blood on the battlefield, even if she was admired by the whole world, her mood and vision had long been sharpened strong and extremely resilient, but at this moment, she was still stunned.

He sat still, his body swaying slightly with the car, and it took a long, long time.

But in the end, she was relieved, and she didn't question the authenticity of the news, because she didn't think that the man in front of her had escaped back to this world with all his life, and he was going to make such a joke in the first chat with herself.

Of course, she didn't have a problem with how she got from that world to this world, because before Sherlock, there was only one person who traveled back and forth between hell and earth.

"Perhaps, sometime, I should meet with Mistress Dante."

The girl muttered, a complicated wry smile on her face.

……

A few days later, the rescue army finally sailed out of the mountain range and into the white wilderness, where the war airship hovering in the sky finally found a place to stay, landed on a relatively flat snow, and then flew to the nearest military base with Sherlock and Nightingale, as well as some wounded.

When the hatch opened again, Sherlock, whose face was finally bloody, finally walked down the stairs with Nightingale's support.

Although this military base is unfamiliar.

But the familiar uniforms of the expeditionary force, the familiar atmosphere, and the familiar eyes all made Sherlock feel that he had had a long dream before.

Countless eyes looked in the direction of the airship.

In the past year, the people here have seen Sherlock's name countless times in the newspapers, and heard about his deeds on the radio countless times, but when they saw a living person, and a man who had come back from the dead, everyone was amazed and silent, and only suppressed gasps echoed in the camp.

The person in charge of a military base was standing at the strongest side of the crowd early, and when he saw Sherlock walking down the steps, he hurriedly greeted him and tapped his chest with the most upright posture, which was the most commonly used military salute in the Holy Cult Army.

"Welcome back!"

The shortest syllables, followed by a muffled thud, and everyone around them all pounded their chests.

Sherlock, of course, had no military position, but all the expeditionary forces felt that he was a man of the most respectable.

Even when he saw that Ms. Nightingale was supporting his arms with her thin body, barely maintaining his balance, she did not feel jealous, but a smile appeared on the corner of her mouth that she did not understand very well.

Sherlock was so tired

Fortunately, this welcome ceremony is not so vast, and everyone knows that in this case, what the hero needs most is rest.

Forehead. That's right, heroes.

Although no one really calls him that now, everyone knows that it is a matter of time, and the Imperial Government is not stupid, and in this state of affairs, when the Imperial Expedition was in full swing, the man who saved Nightingale miraculously came back from the dead while everyone was concerned.

All kinds of events converge on one person, and it is simply the most logical thing to promote him as a hero.

Even the little ones know.

War requires heroes.

In the quiet barracks, the bed is extremely comfortable, Sherlock doesn't even know where to get this bed, it's freezing cold, and he actually got a very soft spring mattress, this brand seems to be quite famous, and those pension officials on the back line probably don't have this treatment.

There was hardly any sound outside the window, and the trained soldiers had deliberately placed their locations far away from the barracks, without anyone disturbing them, and by the bedside, Nightingale leaned back on a chair peeling apples, in this position, the transportation of fruits was extremely difficult, especially the ones that had not been frozen, and it was estimated that there were only a few in a box.

"Even though everything you said sounds like a bunch, I'm still not going to tell anyone." Nightingale cut the apple into pieces and placed it next to the bed, and Sherlock could reach it as soon as he stretched out his hand: "The human embryo factory child is not born in the mother's womb, and the chance of suffering from radiation sickness is 70% If these are true, then the world over there, is it too miserable." ”

It may be that Nightingale herself was born on the other side, or it may be that she is naturally receptive, and after a long period of narration and a longer silence, she actually accepted it all.

Three days later.

It is impossible for Nightingale to be bedridden for a long time, in fact, Sherlock is mainly used to recover from long-term hunger and mental fatigue caused by not sleeping for a long time.

The wounds on his body had healed on the way back.

The color of the sky is not red, Sherlock actually feels a little uncomfortable these days, an airship came to the sky over another military base, and then swept a strong air current, slowly descending.

It is very embarrassing to say that some of the heads of other military districts, the generals of the major defense lines, and some veterans who are very prestigious on the expeditionary route have stepped down from the airship, because these people have just come to see this miracle hero, shake hands with him, express their condolences, and set off to return to their respective units because they still have military affairs to do.

This kind of strange thing of walking a long distance and shaking hands and leaving has been staged one after another in the past few days, which makes Sherlock very uncomfortable.

Moreover, he saw some reports about himself in a certain corner of the military region, all of which were propaganda after the government had whitewashed what he had done in the past year, and Sherlock had goosebumps all over his body, and then he saw that in the holy journal newspaper in the past few days, his photo was actually posted on the headlines, and he felt even more numb, and the most terrible thing was that when he walked to the barracks, all the soldiers would stand up and salute when they saw him, and from time to time he could hear the sound of radio from some barracks, You can still hear your name inside.

Sherlock never imagined that he would one day become like this.

However, he seemed to sense that something was wrong.

Because all this time, all the people he should have seen have seen, and the people who came all the way to comfort him have also come, and Moriarty's boy also sent a telegram with the words "So you are not dead" arrogantly, and General Patton and Mr. Franklin also expressed their condolences.

However. It's just one person missing.

Even if that guy is busy, but after so many days, he should be able to find time.

And also

Hasn't he always been by Nightingale's side, why is he running away now?

Nightingale stood not far away, looking at the past three days, Sherlock's body had gradually become no big problem, so she walked over and said with a somewhat solemn expression:

"I don't know what you're going to do when you hear this, so I can't tell you while you're still weak, but now, I think it's pretty much the same.

Watson killed a servant.

Then he was taken away by the Temple of Light."

(End of chapter)