Chess and Goldfish

.

"Die," said Mycroft.

John was stunned, with an expression of disbelief and fear, "That Dr. Lecter will kill him? Eat... I mean, um, isn't his name an ogre? Hahaha... Uh , not funny, sorry."

Twitching the corners of his mouth dryly, he answered incoherently, then scratched the back of his head, and closed his mouth.

Mycroft did not nod or shake his head, but said, "He must die."

Afterwards, he left 221b Baker Street.

This is the first time after the case was solved, everyone was depressed.

The most obvious is Sherlock.

Not sure who it was, Mycroft, Hannibal, Irene Adler, Victor Wood, or Gent.

There were too many things in his head, and he couldn't classify them for a while, which ones should be put in the trash can, and which ones should be set as encrypted files.

All he knew was that once politics was involved in solving a case, it would no longer be simple.

Or mixed in with anything other than the case, it just went away from what attracted Sherlock in the first place.

That's why he hates the trouble that fat man brings, he always makes trouble for him.

Mr. Detective closed his eyes sleepily, leaned against the little curly hair, and let out a long breath.

"so boring."

Gent: ...

——*——*——*—*——*——*——*—*——*——

--you are tired.

--I'm tired?