BBC Sherlock Howard, Misplaced - Survive

John waited on the couch for the passing of one night and the dawn of another.

The first light of dawn is cold, piercing the patterned carpet, cutting the silence, and the air is separated inch by inch.

After a night of light sleep, John occasionally felt irritated by the yelling of a drunk, or was awakened by the sound of splashing water from a vehicle, only to realize that he was dripping with cold sweat.

Is it a nightmare?No, John couldn't remember anything.Maybe what he experienced when he was awake was a nightmare?

It has been two weeks. Sherlock had never been away from him for so long, and the last time he left without saying goodbye was at most three days, and it was just a few days before Moriarty died.

All right, John Watson, be patient, the only great detective in the universe is busy.He knew he was just too tense.Doctor, relax, there's no use in rushing now.

Transitions are the most unsettling, more hopeless than pure darkness.

John wiped sweat from his brow with the back of his hand.He returned late last night and almost fell asleep when he got home. This situation has lasted for several days.He was overwhelmed by the complicated thoughts, but he couldn't ask for leave from the clinic anymore, and he had to go back to work tomorrow.As far as he could see, it was like last night, without any trace of change.

Very good, the door was not broken into. Sherlock still hadn't heard from him.

He walked to the kitchen and opened the door of the refrigerator. It seemed that there was nothing to satisfy his hunger.

In recent days, he has only returned to 221B late at night. Even if there is nothing important, he will do his best to keep himself busy.If you eat something casually outside, you will naturally have fewer opportunities to cook. John remembered that Sherlock had said before he left that the family needed more food, but he hadn't made it to the supermarket.

Simply do not eat. John closed the door and walked back into the living room.Sherlock used to ask him to buy some pasta or beans even though he didn't eat, but now that there are fewer people to remind him, John would be ruining his health like this.The doctor himself was amazed.

—What if Sherlock suddenly came back?He could ruin his own health but not his roommate's.This reason successfully convinced John, he went back to his room to change, and then went downstairs.

He was quite worried and left a note - or, just to make himself feel better.

"I'm going to the supermarket, I'll be right back."

Doctors shuttled deftly between the shelves. After Sherlock lost contact, he walked faster than ever, as if that would leave those anxious moments far behind.

—Sherlock hated tomatoes, so he had to buy pesto, otherwise he wouldn't eat it.The types of noodles are only accepted in strips, and he doesn't eat weird ones.The milk needs to be full fat. John bought skim milk once, and he was criticized for a long time.And sugar cubes—the consumption of sugar cubes is quite high, and the detective's diet is always unhealthy.

Purchasing is still the weight of two people, which is a natural habit.

He walked to the checkout, glanced at the automatic checkout machine, then turned to the other gates.Today he plans to pay cash.

John walked out of the automatic glass door with two heavy bags. Opposite the supermarket was a small shoe repair shop, but the business was not very good. It closed a month ago, and now it is the office of a travel company.

The floor-to-ceiling glass is covered with promotional itineraries, John is not very interested in this, he and Sherlock are both pragmatic, but detectives often say that doctors have "romantic feelings".

He stopped in front of a propaganda poster.The tourist season in Greece has come to an end. John pursed his lips, Greece.

He will not forget.

He knew Sherlock wouldn't forget either.

There are too many things that John didn't expect, for example, he was still sleeping peacefully in 221B the night before, and twelve hours later he was in——

Athens International Airport.

Twelve hours, of course, include sleep and struggling time.In any case, he was here now, a country four hours away from London.

The drive from the apartment to Heathrow had left him half awake, and the moment the plane landed, John was in a daze again.It was an October day, and Athens was not as full of tourists as in midsummer. It would not be crowded, but it did not appear deserted either.

"You'd better tell me now," John rubbed his forehead, trying to clear his mind, "that's why you shook me up at four in the morning and ordered me to pack my bags?"

The man stood two steps away from him, a strong wind ruffled Sherlock's curly hair, making it even more messy.

The doctor couldn't help but want to stretch out his hand to straighten him out, and then realized that his thoughts were really ridiculous—he was actually a little jealous of the strong wind?

"It's for the case," Sherlock replied casually.It seems that Greece and 221B are only a 10-minute drive away.

"Well, then I think I have a right to know what the case is, and it's worth your leaving London."

"Ah, Mr. Holmes!"

Walking towards them was a man with deep facial features and a beard. He had a loud voice, piercing eyes, wide palms with thick calluses, and a strong physique.

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Holmes."

Sherlock turned his head and made a preliminary introduction to John: "This is our client."

"Who is this?" the man asked.

"With me."

"It must be Dr. Watson," the man smiled, "It's a pleasure to meet you. You can call me Austin."

Austin is a Greek who lived in the UK. Sherlock became famous after solving several transnational crime cases. Austin, who often pays attention to the news in the UK, naturally will not miss it.

He owns a farm in Thessaly region.The reason why Sherlock was found was because there was a murder on the farm.The lad who tended the stables every night was found dead—throat slashed, windpipe wounded.

"That's how it happened," Austin said slowly. "That young man is conscientious and upright. I really can't think of any reason."

They took a private jet to Austin's farm—yes, he's a rich man with a company in the past.The natural countryside is his hobby, which is why he decided to move here to open a farm away from the hustle and bustle.

"Tell me more details about the surroundings of the crime scene."

"Not many people live there, it's just a grassland. There is a small hill to the north of the house. Turn over and you will see my neighbor, Colin."

"How far away?"

"If you walk fast, you can walk for about 10 minutes."

"How much do you know about him?"

"Not a lot, we barely communicate."

Sherlock nodded. "I'll visit him."

"Mr. Holmes, please help me. Now the police think I'm the murderer! Just because I was the only one who stayed on the farm that day!"

"The police are not trustworthy," the detective waved his hand, "but I've already taken your case, so I don't need them."

——This guy is always so arrogant. John was a little amused, afraid that customers would think he was bragging.

After landing, they followed Austin into the foyer, and the host generously offered that the two of them could stay here overnight.After they settled their luggage, they went to the stables through the back door.

"I still can't believe it," John jogged to keep up with the detective ahead, "Greece! It's Greece."

"Does this have any special meaning to you?"

"A lot of people come here for their honeymoon, it feels like a dream place. And now I'm walking on this land with you, it's the most absurd."

"That's because you have too many associations." Sherlock replied coldly, looking at the stable door.The embolism was well bolted, and there was no sign of forced entry. There were bloodstains on the door when the crime happened, and it felt like a fierce fight had been experienced.

"Have any ideas?"

"There are four."

As they walked around the building, a fence leaned visibly. Sherlock walked over, carefully searching the ground.Suddenly, he raised the corner of his mouth: "It must have been brought out by the murderer."

"what?"

"This is a cuff button, studded with diamonds, so it can be concluded that the murderer should be Liang Shangjun. Didn't you notice? This button is exactly the same as the coat that Austin hung on the coat rack."

"Did not notice."

"No surprise. Now, see what's different about the fence."

The fence was made of wood, painted white, and should have been recently painted, but there were shoe prints on the part close to the ground.

"you mean--"

"The murderer must have stolen more than this. That diamond cufflink was just one of them. He was caught by the young man and killed him in desperation. He used a knife. He must have come prepared. The murderer jumped over the fence and escaped. The reason why the police can’t find the perpetrator is because it’s covered with grass and it’s not easy to leave footprints. Come on, John, let’s ask Austin how many diamond cufflinks he has.”

According to Austin, the cufflinks have a lot of origin and are inherited from his ancestors. There are four in total, two of which are on his most expensive coat.

"What about the rest?"

"I have a room dedicated to these collections."

"You'd better go check them out and see if anything has been stolen—"

"That's impossible, and I have people guarding me all night—"

"That's the gatekeeper's problem," Sherlock shrugged. "Fire him."

They went to bed early that night.The guest room is on the second floor. After Sherlock took the room at the end of the corridor, he drove John to the end of the corridor. He said: "When I think, the farther away from me the better."

Maybe it was going to bed early that kept John awake in the middle of the night, a healthy habit that disappeared after living with Sherlock.His throat was dry, and the slight sting made John uncomfortable.He walked out of the room on bare feet, only to hear noises from the other side of the corridor, which sounded like people fighting each other.

The door to Sherlock's room opened a crack, and figures flickered - this was unusual.

John swallowed, still feeling the pain.If his sense of crisis was correct, Sherlock must be in trouble.He walked quickly towards the detective's room and pushed open the door: "Sherlock!"

"What... oh, it's you, John."

The detective turned on the lamp and sat disheveled on the edge of the bed, his curly hair even more disheveled.He was gasping for breath, and it was difficult for him to even speak.

"What's wrong? Tell me, what happened?"

"nothing."

Sherlock didn't want to answer, and John couldn't help him.He pursed his lips and said only, "Don't make me stand here all night."

"John, go back to sleep, this is an order."

The detective looked at the doctor with a little irritability, and even more reproach: "We still have work to do tomorrow."

"but you--"

"Don't force me to carry you directly back to the bed, you know my arms are always good."

Sherlock was still panting slightly when he said this, and John felt in a daze: "What the hell are you talking about?"

"I'm really going to do it, John." After speaking, he was about to get up.

"Okay, I'll go back." John took a step back, "but you'll tell me what happened, right?"

The light in Sherlock's eyes was fading fast, very dim. John believed he must have something to hide.

"...Yes, John."

After getting the assurance, the doctor was a little relieved.He sighed helplessly.

"Then, see you tomorrow."

That night, John went back to his room but tossed and turned for a while before falling asleep.

God knows how Sherlock solved the case with a cuff button.

It's a pity that John didn't catch up with the moment of arresting the prisoner.He sleeps until noon, and when he wakes up, Sherlock sits in the armchair in his room and gives him a meaningful smile.

"So? What's going on?"

The point of that smile was to get John to make him coffee.The doctor went upstairs with two cups of coffee, passed the sugared one to the detective, and sat down on the edge of the bed.

"His neighbor is a murderer," Sherlock took a sip. "As soon as I got into Colin's place and saw that cufflink, I knew it. Some people just show off and end up reaping the consequences."

"Is it the kind of display that puts it in a display case with several spotlights on it?"

"No. It's on his cuff. It's hard not to notice it."

What a show. John coughed a few times:

"So, our mission is complete?"

"Yes."

Neither of them knew what to say next.Like most tourists, there is no reason to stay, but they are reluctant to leave.

—Maybe Sherlock doesn't feel that way, maybe he's ready to return, and London's big and small crimes are still waiting for him to solve.Thinking of this, John spoke up:

"Are we... are we leaving?"

Sherlock looked up at him and was about to speak when there was a knock on the door.

"Disturbing you?"

Austin poked a head through the crack of the door, "Ah, I forgot that you are living together."

Sherlock raised his chin in displeasure: "What's the matter?"

Once again, Austin enthusiastically expressed their gratitude by spending a night at his villa on Kefalonia.

"That's a resort," Austin gushed, "must go to Melissani Cave, I promise, you won't regret it. But at most I can only send you there, I can't follow you, You know, there are still more procedures to follow."

"Uh, sorry?" John was puzzled.

"He means, our vacation is starting. John, I have to pack my bags. Regarding your question, my answer is no."

Sherlock stepped out of the room quickly, but there was a smile that he couldn't hide from the corner of his mouth.

"very nice."

Austin stood beside John, watching the detective disappear through the door with him.

"What do you mean?" the doctor asked.

"You have Sherlock—I mean, it's rare that you have such a deep emotional connection. You only need one friend like that in your life."

A deep emotional relationship.

It was a dangerous characterization, but John didn't dispute it.

They took a private jet again, and the flight was not long.As soon as the two arrived at their destination, they went to the attractions introduced by Austin. After all, there was a lot of time.

"You two, we will meet later!"

Austin only left them a map and left in a hurry.

"Varied……"

The doctor has not been able to figure out the situation until now, and has to admit that this trip is really absurd.

Sherlock seemed to see John's concern, and continued, "At least he gave us a map? We won't get lost."

John looked up after listening.He saw the whole sky reflected in Sherlock's pupils, it was a beautiful lake blue scene, it became a pocket collection, and it was stored in John's memory.

"……All right."

Indeed, they did not get lost. Austin has arranged for them a shuttle bus, and even arranged for the return flight the next day. Sherlock was a little disgusted: "It reminds me of Mycroft."

"More than that. You should get used to being picked up by clients in private cars," John smiled, "Mr. Holmes."

"Well, better than Buckingham Palace. They took me by force! Do you remember, John?"

"Remember, remember."

The doctor was suddenly speechless and blushed.He thought of the detective almost fucked, he thought of the moment Mycroft stepped on his sheets, he thought of that delicate back.

He remembered saying to him, "Are you wearing pants?"

This question is really stupid.

Since it's not peak tourist season, there are no objectionable crowds, and Austin's employees have taken care of all their troubles, and they are almost as comfortable as the local residents.

But Sherlock didn't seem to be satisfied with this, he asked John to stay where he was, walked to the boat by himself, and communicated with the boatman for a while.

John saw him slurring Greek words and even making a few gestures—finally, he saw him walking towards this place, fidgeting with his hair: "I thought Greeks were good at English, Colin I speak English fluently."

"Have you studied Greek?"

"Once. It was for a case at that time, but it was useless for too long, and I almost forgot about it."

"There are things you can't do in this world," John paused, "It might be worth blogging, people like to see your ordinary side."

"No. John, I swear I can relearn this language in three hours. When we get back to China, you'll be able to accept it."

"I'm waiting."

"Let's go." Sherlock walked back to the boat, the boatman was no longer there.

"I asked him to go to rest first, this ship is ours now." The detective's eyes were full of joy, it seemed that he was very enthusiastic about rowing the oars.

He gestured for John to sit across from him, untied the mooring rope, stroked his oars lightly, and slowly left the shore.

The boat was slowly moving forward in the cave, which was a bit new to John. The last time he took a boat was in middle school, and he couldn't remember the detailed feelings.The wooden boat swayed with the surface of the water. They were passing a cave, the surroundings were getting dark, and the boarding place disappeared from sight with a turn.

In the dim light, John could see Sherlock's backlit and blurred figure, he looked towards his face, and suddenly remembered something.

"What happened yesterday..."

It was getting darker. Half of Sherlock's face was hidden in the shadows, and he turned his head away.That way, John couldn't see his expression.

"It's just a thief. If you steal it once, there's no guarantee you won't steal it a second time."

"Really?" John still had doubts in his mind.

"I will not trick you."

"but--"

"Look, John."

Sherlock finished the subject and pointed behind the doctor, telling him to turn around.

Sunlight spilled into the underground lake through the collapsed surface. The water quality was clear and sparkling, flickering on the rock wall, and flickering on the faces of the two of them.

gorgeous.

Sherlock rowed the boat to the middle of the lake, continuing to chatter about things around John, such as karst terrain and underground currents and limestone erosion.

The doctor called his name after he paused for a moment: "Sherlock."

"how?"

He met his eyes.

John felt himself inside Sherlock's pupil, the center of those ice blue eyes.Their shadows were reflected in the water, and John saw himself reflected in Sherlock's eyes.

He knew that there was only one detective in his eyes at the moment.

"I thought, I'll never forget today."

John began to watch Sherlock's expression.

There was a trace of displeasure on the man's face. The detective always hated being interrupted, but then changed to a relaxed expression.

His voice was deep and faint, reflected by the rock wall, as if it came from another unreachable shore, it was indeed dreamlike.

他 说:

"……Me too."

They were at the bow and stern of the boat, looking at each other quietly.This is an unbreakable balance, once anyone gets closer to whom, it may be overturned.

John scooped up a handful of water, it was cold.

At this moment, he was standing on the street, and his hands that were carrying heavy objects began to feel cold.

The bone-piercing cold wind blew his cheeks, making it painful.

He should go home.

Suddenly, a thought flashed through John's mind:

If it is not a name or a birthday, then the place name is always possible, right?The detective said he wouldn't forget.

He pulled Sherlock's phone out of his pocket, he always carried it with him, John didn't want to miss a message about him.

He typed on the keyboard: Greece

Still wrong.

"Proper self-disclosure can enhance relationships."

Irene was standing in the doorway and Sherlock was sitting on the sofa, he didn't want to think about what the woman said.

"How about you and I want to talk to each other?"

"If you have some kind of performance desire, please feel free."

"You asked me why you appeared here, and now I decided to answer seriously."

Sherlock glanced at her nonchalantly, but didn't respond.

"You may be disappointed—I just want to travel around the world, but the way to get travel expenses is different. I look for rich and famous families in various countries, approach them, try to trade, and get the money I want."

"Do you know? My target was not you, but Moriarty. Who knew he would be killed by you so quickly? Then I found you naturally, Sherl."

"You are just one of the targets on my strategy map, Poland, Slovakia, Vienna... Now, I am in England, London."

"So Moriarty was used by you?" the detective casually interrupted her pride.

"No, I didn't even express my intention to come, so he invited me to be his partner. The remuneration of the criminal consultant is really good, and I am a little bit reluctant to leave."

"So, you just want money from me? No, I'm not an upstart."

"It's a pity - Moriarty's death made me change my goal. Now I only target you, just like Moriarty, I will defeat you."

"What are you going to do?"

"I swear, I'll make you obsessed with me. I'll have you."

Sherlock sighed dismissively, unimpressed.

"What if I refuse?"

"Then, I'll destroy you. Take away what you hold most dear. Even someone as unmoved by emotion as you is, has an Achilles' heel."

weakness?

"I have a question for you."

She came and stood in front of the armchair.

"Moriarty installed not only a monitor, but also a monitor. Recently you mentioned the word 'suicide' frequently, and you just want to die? I know it's not that simple."

Moriarty really thinks highly of him.

Sherlock pursed his lips and said only, "I want to kill Sherlock Holmes."

There are many meanings behind this sentence, including helplessness due to reality and emotional entanglement.

That greedy guy got too much from John Watson and bossed him around.

If their encounter is no longer out of order, if their life is not eccentric, if Sherlock puts away his habit of indifference—if, let everything start again.

The identity of a consulting detective is too heavy, and it weighs heavily on his heart.

It's like a wall that can't be overcome.

There were many hidden truths that remained unspoken, and Sherlock intended to keep them from John for the rest of his life.

He couldn't let him know that he had taken risks for him.Let him not know what his intention of doing this is.

Once the truth came out, John would surely be ashamed of him. Sherlock didn't want to see a doctor like that, and as long as John was fine, he was content.

The detective knows that staying with the doctor for another day is a crisis, so he devises a plan to save his roommate.

He only wants him to live a good life.He will protect him.

"Mr. Holmes, I think it's time to tell me the truth," Irene snorted and continued:

"Moriarty didn't commit suicide. I want you to tell me yourself, how did he die?"

Opposite John sat three people - Lestrade, Donovan, Anderson.

The Scotland Yard detectives kept John bothering him because of Sherlock's past kindness.The doctor could see that Lestrade's commentary on what he had done had changed from "excessive shock" to "unreasonable trouble".

"So, what the hell do you want to know?" Anderson asked gruffly. The two hadn't liked each other since their first meeting.

"About Sherlock."

John tried his best to suppress his temper, watching Anderson's impatience towards him with cold eyes - he knew that with just a few words, the forensic doctor might follow in the footsteps of the police officer.

"Freak?" Donovan said, stretching out his hand to brush his shoulder-length black hair: "What can I say? I'm surprised you can get along with him for so long. Dr. Watson, I told you, he is a Freak — not even a good guy. Do normal people take frozen bodies home for experiments? You're not his friend, no one understands him."

John raised a pair of angry eyes, gnashed his teeth but said firmly: "I believe in Sherlock Holmes."

"Ha!" Anderson smiled coldly: "Sally, I told you a long time ago, who can stay with a mental patient for such a long time without complaining? Dr. Watson, according to your years of experience in medicine, You should be able to find something unusual too. Tell me, why did you stay with Sherlock Holmes?"

"It's none of your business." John clenched his fists.

Who the doctor wants to believe is his freedom.No one needs to tell him what to do.

"One day, he'll commit a crime. We'll be standing next to a dead body, and the murderer is none other than Sherlock Holmes."

The female police officer continued to sing along with the forensic doctor, while Lestrade just stayed silent, his face livid.

"You've got a lot to do with him—didn't you? Oh my god, I guessed it right? What's wrong? You love him? I've known for a long time that no one will support a psychopath unconditionally!"

Anderson managed to make John lose his mind with a sentence. He got up from his chair, nearly spilled his tea, and shouted hysterically, "Shut up, shut up to me! Especially you, Anderson!"

Lestrade stepped forward, pulling the distance between John and the medical examiner, "Dr. Watson, please, I don't support violence, and this is Scotland Yard."

"Lestrade," the doctor said to the detective, still barely concealing his excitement, "I want to speak privately."

Donovan was the first to come in, and John hadn't been able to see Anderson's face so quickly that it would make him so angry that he would act out of order.

They left him alone in the interrogation room for a while, and when he regained his composure, Lestrade let Donovan in.

"What do you want to know about the...well, Sherlock?"

After the chaotic scene just now, the policewoman also restrained herself a little. She was clearly fidgeting, as if she was making up a reason to leave in her mind.

"You can say whatever you want without reservation."

What he saw of Sherlock was incomplete. John wondered what it was like to be a detective in the presence of people he hated. All John wanted to know was Sherlock, all Sherlocks.

"Let me be blunt, it's a waste of time—yours, and mine. This and Sherlock's death—"

"He's not dead, watch your wording."

"...disappeared. This has nothing to do with Sherlock's disappearance."

"Do you have a better way?"

The policewoman was left speechless by the question, and she spread her hands in embarrassment: "You are right."

John turned out the leather notebook, pulled off the pen cap, and drew a few marks on the paper: "You can start now."

"Is this taking notes?"

"No, just a backup for my memory."

Donovan looked at him helplessly and took a sip of tea.

"I've been hostile to Sherlock from the beginning, and I think you know that."

"Of course."

"But I have my reasons."

"Like what? Like he pointed out that Anderson is mentally retarded in public? Or he knew the fact that you spent the night at his house?"

"Dr. Watson, please note that it is you who asked the police for assistance."

"Sorry." John pursed his lower lip.

"When did you live with him?"

"Seven years ago in the spring."

"How did he convince you to split the rent with him?"

"He said he saw a nice house in central London, but it was too much for one person to pay the rent."

"You've been lied to from start to finish, doctor."

John couldn't help laughing out loud, "Are you sure your news is not wrong? Sherlock's forgery technology is top-notch."

Donovan shook his head very seriously: "He moved into that apartment in 07 and lived in that apartment for three years. During this period, he has never had a record of late payment of rent. It is reasonable to speculate that financial constraints are not true for him. Then, he lived in that apartment on 10 I met you in Nian, lied to you, and played a long-lost reunion with the landlady to convince you that he is the new tenant."

"You're making up a story."

"No. Dr. Watson, I can't control your thoughts, but I have to reiterate: I'm telling the truth."

"...Why do you know this? I have been with him for seven years, and he never mentioned a word."

"There's a lot you don't know. Some things about his past have been sealed."

John felt like he was digging into his roommate's past.And the deeper you dig, the more suspicious it becomes.

"Why? What gag order?"

"I think he... probably won't come back. So it doesn't matter. I'll just tell you what I know. God, I don't want to be demoted!"

"Come on, this might be the best choice you've ever made."

"Ten years ago, Sherlock moved into the apartment you lived in. One day, we received a call from a caller who claimed to be a high-ranking government official and asked for Lestrade. He asked us to keep an eye on that gentleman.

Sherlock was already on our watch list at that time, because his behavior was too weird - like doing experiments and almost burning the house down, or the blood of the dead body leaked out of the door, so the landlady called the police ...

Later, Lestrade said, that was Sherlock's brother, Mycroft Holmes.He had Lestrade visit regularly, and told us not to divulge a word about his spying on his brother, or any information about his brother. "

"...why would he do that? And why would Sherlock..."

"Ask him. If not, ask yourself. Maybe he just wants to simplify his background so that you can accept him.