[Comprehensive British and American] Plague Meow

When Sherlock woke up, he found himself in a familiar room, with Watson's head on his left and the little black cat's head on his right, looking at him from left to right.

It gave him a big jump.

"What are you doing??? And what's up with this cat?"

Sherlock immediately bounced up, couldn't hold back a muffled groan, and felt his lungs screaming and hurting, and immediately fell back, panting with difficulty and pain.

"Your injury hasn't healed yet." Watson immediately acted to help Sherlock straighten the tube in his hand and stop him from pulling it out.

"I'm fine."

Sherlock protested hoarsely.

However, he had no strength at all, and a little dispensable struggle was quickly suppressed by the doctor mercilessly.

After a lot of fuss, Watson cleaned him up, covered him with the blanket that had been kicked off, adjusted the angle of the cushion, made sure the neck guard was fine, and took his temperature and meaning.

"How long have I been in a coma?" Sherlock asked, as if he was still in a trance.

"It's been about three hours since you came back," Watson replied.

"How long have I been missing?"

"Half a month."

Sherlock was not seriously injured. Batman took him away for treatment, and he had to avoid the eyes and ears of Mycroft Holmes. It took a while, and it took him a while to see that he was recovering. Pack it up and send it anonymously to 221B Baker Street.

At this time, Sherlock has basically recovered, and the pain in his lungs is a slight sequelae left by soaking in the nutrient solution for too long. It is just a little side effect, and it will disappear soon.

"Your brother came here just once, and I didn't let him take Nucky away." Watson mentioned another thing.

"That guy?" Sherlock finally concentrated a little. "Stay away from him, Watson. And cats? Cat hair is a hindrance, especially long-haired ones."

Watson shook his head helplessly when he saw that he was humming and chirping and was still in the right place.

"You should sleep a little longer."

This sleep is several hours passed.

Watson looked at Natch during this period.

"Okay, according to Mr. Malone's reminder, I already know that you are a little black cat with extraordinary intelligence, so what do you need now? Should I get you a cat litter?"

"Meow~"

Naqi didn't need anyone to worry about it at all. He was squatting by the fire at a safe distance, enjoying the heat with squinted eyes, lazily like a piece of chocolate cake that was about to melt.

Watson's little heart also melted a little.

"Can you sleep in the living room at night, or in my room?"

Naqi tapped the blanket under his body with his paw, indicating "this is good".

"Don't be so polite. You can't be more troublesome than Sherlock. To be honest, I can bear him until now, so I can't throw you out." Watson smiled, as if mocking himself, and began to tidy up the room.

Mrs. Hudson, the landlady, came in and saw the cat by the stove, and was startled by the situation.Watson quickly explained, and Mrs. Hudson quickly melted into the cat's cuddling and soft meowing.

"Oh sure, it can stay, that's way better than some guy, isn't it?"

Hudson glanced at Sherlock, who was dying, and muttered.

Watson looked at the ceiling.

Sherlock was awakened by the smell of dinner, and the smell of roasted chicken legs made his stomach growl, giving him the illusion that he hadn't eaten for half a month.

At this time, the infusion tube has been pulled out, and the pain in the lungs is no longer so great.

So Sherlock struggled to get up from the sofa, and followed the scent to the direction of the kitchen. Along the way, he noticed that there were more cat food bowls and water bowls in the living room, and there were several bags of newly bought cat food piled up in the corner. , did not have time to clean up.

Sherlock asked his own question: "What's going on here?"

"Let's eat together." Watson brought the food to the table.

Grilled chicken legs, clam and scallop seafood soup, creamy pasta with mushrooms and ham, vegetable salad and bread.

"...Is it a holiday today?" Sherlock was rarely confused.

"Nach did it."

Watson sat down, holding a knife and fork, looking forward to it.

Sherlock's expression suddenly froze, fixed on "expectation", but his eyes were a little confused, as if early in the morning, he thought that the first class of the day was a Chinese class, but saw the math teacher entering the classroom.

"cat?"

Sherlock pointed with his fork to the dark mass of kittens squatting next to Watson's hand.

"Accept the reality, aliens and gods have begun to occupy the earth, Sherlock, what is a clever kitten?" Watson was teasing.

But obviously Holmes didn't get to this point.

"Smart? I wonder which claw it uses to hold the shovel..."

Saying that, Sherlock wanted to grab Naqi's claws, but Naqi avoided him.

The little black cat nimbly jumped onto Watson's shoulder, and Watson subconsciously bowed his neck. Naqi followed the plane on the back of his shoulder, stepped from one side to the other, and looked at it with a high-spirited expression. Sherlock, watching Sherlock's expression quickly changed to "facial paralysis".

"I don't agree with cats," Sherlock emphasized.

Watson spread his hands: "But Mrs. Hudson has agreed."

"Don't think about it, she's too stupid, she doesn't know what's going on, if she is allowed to make a decision, we're all going to end the game."

Sherlock protested, and forked the chicken leg. He was surprised to find that the chicken leg had been cut into a size that was very suitable for the entrance, but he hadn't observed this.

Sherlock continued his facial paralysis, and sent a piece of chicken thigh to his mouth.

"...well, it can stay, temporarily."

Compromise, only a bite of chicken thigh.

Sherlock Holmes is not a person who covets his appetite. For him, food is disposable in most cases. As long as the body can survive, it is okay not to eat.

But things like gourmet food are brought to the mouth, and fools don't eat them.

What's more, he still has doubts about this little black cat.

"It's called Natch?"

"Correct."

Watson had already been overwhelmed by the pasta, and threw himself into it, completely oblivious to the way Sherlock looked at Nucky, and Nucky squinted back with a very humane, dangerous squint.

When he was admitted by Batman, no one expected that the drug resistance of this product was so strong that he woke up for a short time in the middle. Fortunately, only Red Robin and Natch were present at that time, so it was not considered an exposure.

Immediately knocked unconscious and poured medicine, theoretically not leaving much memory.

But Sherlock has a thinking hall, and it is difficult to determine whether the memory at that time has been stored in it.

If it is Professor X or other psychics, the thinking hall is only the basic configuration.

They set up "gates" to protect their spirits and minds from being spied on while spying on others.

But Sherlock is just the most ordinary human being, and he can do this with his superior intelligence, which makes Naqi a little curious about him.

Just a little bit.

The human brain is really too complicated, even if it is opened, it cannot guarantee that it can study and understand it.

"Nach," Sherlock called, "when did you first see me?"

Watson & Natch: ? ? ?

"It's just a cat." Watson blinked, and then suddenly felt as if the conversation had been repeated before, "Well, well, a very clever cat."

"Meow." I'm too lazy to talk to you.

Sherlock signaled Watson to stop talking, and continued to ask Naqi: "What is that hanging around your neck? Is that match an ornament for you?"

Natch blinked.

"That means the cloak and the rest aren't," Sherlock concluded.

Watson & Natch: ? ? ?

How did you come to a conclusion?

"Mi??" Naqi let out a low cry in a daze, like an unconscious murmur.

Watson: "..."

Sherlock showed an expression of "I see." Seeing Naqi's reaction, he knew that his guess was indistinguishable. It doesn't matter if there is no evidence. He has his own way to obtain "evidence".

Why is this situation so familiar...

Natch narrowed his eyes.

Suddenly, a flash of light flashed in his mind, and Naqi thought of Batman. When that guy tried to fool the information, he seemed to have such an embarrassing tone.

what is this?

A common problem among detectives?

"Sherlock."

Watson had to try again to stop Sherlock's behavior, to prevent the kitten from becoming angry and scratching Sherlock's face.

Sherlock himself disagreed.

"You said my brother has been here?"

Watson was chewing the chicken leg meat, enjoying it very much, and nodded copingly, in exchange for Sherlock's expression of disapproval.

Watson didn't care too much about this. Sherlock didn't agree with many things. This guy doesn't even bother to know that the earth revolves around the sun. To put it bluntly, he only needs to consider whether to go to the doctor when he agrees. , See if there is a mental problem due to too much pressure.

"I'll take care of his affairs. If I'm not at home, you have to make sure no one else can take the cat away."

"Who's going to take the cat?"

"What do you think? I must have been sent back secretly. Under such circumstances, who would know? Mycroft is like this. If he doesn't leave once, he will definitely not rob on the spot for the sake of face, but Turn around? Oh, dear, you know he has a long list of lambs who willingly scapegoated for him."

Watson: "... want me to bring a gun?" Thumbs up for the Sherlock Holmes family.

"Forget it, it's not very useful."

Naqi didn't gnaw again, he ate the chicken breast shredded spaghetti in his own small plate, and watched Sherlock put on his coat and ran out after finishing his meal in a hurry.

Watson: "...Uh, didn't he notice that he was wearing pajamas?"

"Meow." I didn't bother to pay attention to him.

But this doesn't work.

Just like Watson is unlikely to see Sherlock running around in pajamas, Naqi still shoulders the commission of Batman, and he can't just let Sherlock run away without a trace. Their reasons are different, but their actions are very consistent. Watson He took a bag, opened the door and went out, and Naqi got out through the crack of the door.

They saw the black car driving away at the gate.

Watson froze for a moment, realizing that he could not catch up, and it would be better not to catch up.

Naqi didn't have so many worries, and rushed out directly, without even running out of the physical speed it should have, and was able to follow the black car closely behind the deadly traffic in London.

In the car.

In the rearview mirror, I could see the little black shadow flying across the crosswalk.

Sherlock sneered: "I just said, with those idle time tossing around, it's better to organize the traffic first, and now I'm being chased by a little black cat, are you stupid?"

"Why don't you thank London traffic when you're running after a suspect?"

Mycroft responded indifferently.

The author has something to say: Thanks to the little angels who fed the reserve food between 7.23~7.28~

彼岸38瓶；芸36瓶；鸡蛋西红柿29瓶；旧时光10瓶；月月4瓶；霍格沃兹OWLs苦手2瓶；金枪鱼饭团1瓶；千年章1瓶；

Thank you very much for your support, I will continue to work hard!