I have special killing skills

Perhaps because of the familiarity, I didn't need too much judgment to know that he was Sherlock.Of all the people I know, only Sherlock can have such a deep voice, which is always magnetic when speaking, and is always misunderstood as an extremely evil voice.

But only after hearing his panting sound when he was in love, would he know how rare this sound is.

But now is obviously not the time to praise his tone.I try to sit up, but because my hands are up against the top of my head, I can't use any strength at all, so I can't retract my arms at all, and I can't prop up my body.But this action made me feel that not only my wrists were handcuffed, but even my feet were firmly tied together.

This is not a good sign. In fact, even when he accidentally became Sherlock's test product, the most tragic experience was inhaling poisonous gas and being thrown into the laboratory with "big dog".

Instead of being tied up like a roast turkey like now.

The clothes on his body are obviously my pajamas, the soft and silky touch shows that he is not made of pure cotton, but a very expensive fabric.Because this is a gift from Sherlock, a pajamas, dark blue, the same style as Sherlock.It's kind of our only couple shirt, and I love it, but don't wear it often.But now I put it on, and although the dress is not short, it is easy to disassemble.

I turned my face to the direction of the voice, I couldn't see the person clearly, but I was sure Sherlock was over there.He moved his arm hard, making the metal chain make a sound, and he gritted his teeth: "Sherlock, stop your pranks, this is not funny."

"But I think it's very interesting, my dear John."

Unlike what I expected, Sherlock no longer keeps a friendly distance from me, his voice is ringing in my ears, and even the heat of breathing makes my hair stand on end.Trying to distance myself from him, I calmed myself down: "Stay away from me, Sherlock, all this makes me uncomfortable. Also, let go of my hands, I don't like this."

Vigorously moving my body, I heard a crisp sound and wanted to turn my head, but I only saw a fragment.

That's really like my cup.

"No, you like it."

Before the words fell, I felt a cold fingertip gently resting on my body.He parted my neckline—thank God I still had clothes—and placed his palm on my chest.That's where my heart is, the unremarkable one on the left, which obviously wasn't too hard for Sherlock to find.He's done it before, and Sherlock loves to hear my heartbeat, and making him change is one of the great detective's joys, but it's not mine.

His fingers tapped my chest lightly, once, again, until the frequency was the same as my heart beat, and he said with satisfaction: "Very good, John, you are healthy."

"Yes, of course I..."

"But you always go to the clinic, it's not a good place, is it?"

This sentence made me fall back in anger, even though I have no strength to fight back now, but I have never been easy to bully in front of Sherlock: "I work there, Sherlock, if I don't go then I will become Unemployed, all guarantees will be in vain!"

"But my passbook, credit card, and cash are all in your hands. You are not short of money."

Yes, I am not short of money. Sherlock is engaged in a high-risk job. In fact, even if Mycroft does not give him any help, this great detective can earn enough money to live and drink in his life.I swear, if he didn't spend his money so casually on things, there would be at least one more zero in the passbook.

But now is obviously not the time to argue about economic issues. I gritted my teeth, and my voice became even more angry: "But that's your money, not mine."

The hands left my body, but damn it, he went to another place.I clamped my leg hard to stop him from moving forward, damn Sherlock: "Let go of your hand, Sherlock, if you still want to have breakfast every day!"

His movements stopped, and I felt the black cloth stretched over my eyes being pulled away, and the glare of the light made me feel uncomfortable.Turning his head, he saw a pair of eyes.

Blue-green amber, very nice.

"But you always want to leave me, John, you will waste your energy for some people who don't care, but you don't want to stay for even a minute for me." Sherlock stroked my neck, "This is not a good habit, is it? ? I'd even buy that clinic for you."

This sentence sounds a bit wronged, the great detective always has a way to make me suppress my anger.

I didn't refuse his touch, but I insisted on expressing my thoughts: "No two people can be tied together forever, except conjoined twins."

"No conjoined twins, it's a bit difficult to operate, John, your suggestions are always unrealistic." Sherlock lowered his head, his eyes seemed to have starlight, "If you agree to my request, I will let you leave."

"no way."

"Ha ha."

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When I opened my eyes, I saw the familiar overhead light.I chose this lamp with Sherlock. The simple black and white color is not suitable for the warm feeling of the bedroom. It looks too calm, but Sherlock likes it.

My first reaction was to touch my abdomen, but I couldn't feel the slightest pain.On the contrary, my head is no longer heavy, it seems that someone has woken up. This makes me feel refreshed.

"Are you awake?" It was Sherlock who opened the door and walked in. He was wearing a suit I was familiar with, and he looked clean and neat, but he didn't come to me immediately, but he rubbed his hands together, looking like he I just came back, and my body is still cold.

I didn't like his approach though, leaning back frowning, tucking myself into the foot of the bed, and grinding out my pistol from under the pillow.Silver, small and exquisite, very suitable for self-defense.

Sherlock frowned at my movement, he looked at me, and I could feel those eyes go up and down on me like an X-ray.I was a little surprised by his action. After all, the experience during this period of time told me that even if I was released from the confinement, I should not relax, because the next thing to meet may be pain or injection.

Sherlock didn't seem to draw any conclusions. In the end, his eyes focused on my face, and the big detective frowned: "John, don't fool me. If you don't have any problems, I want to take you to the hospital for a checkup. We're leaving. You know those idiots at Scotland Yard never know how to use their brains, and we gotta get there before the scene is destroyed."

This sentence is so familiar, so familiar that I want to cry.

"I had a dream, a nightmare."

I dreamed that I was trapped by Sherlock in a room, a place I didn't recognize, it looked like a basement, surrounded by walls surrounded by soft cushions, it looked like a mental hospital.This is only arranged in mental hospitals to prevent patients from committing suicide and hurting themselves.

I was there for a week, maybe longer because I was comatose most of the time.

Sherlock does a lot, yes, a lot.Those are things that I never agreed with before, perhaps because they all became reality in my dreams.I even shattered my ribs.That hurts.

But in the end, a nightmare is a nightmare after all, and there will always be awakening.

Holding the quilt tightly with both hands, I took a few deep breaths.Sherlock doesn't seem to think there is anything terrible about nightmares, and in the eyes of the great detective, there is nothing terrible in the whole world.But he still walked up to me, stretched out his hand, and hugged me awkwardly.High IQ comforting people is always something unique, but I still like it.Trying to reconcile myself to the smell of Sherlock, I hugged him tightly.

It's still the same smell, the cologne smell, the murderous guy in the dream didn't have this.

"Everything will be fine." Sherlock said flatly.

I nodded.

"Because you got the 32-body specific infectious cold caused by the virus, you have been in a coma for more than a month, and your clinic has decided to expel you." Sherlock glanced at me, "You don't have to go to work."

I'm a little depressed, in fact I'm sure Sherlock must be responsible for this, the person in the dream said something right, Sherlock would rather buy the clinic than let me leave: "No, Sherlock , I think I need to go back and explain the situation, and the dean will let me continue working."

Sherlock seemed easy to talk this time, and he shrugged noncommittally.

Sherlock left the room to let me get dressed, I watched him leave, then pulled out the needle on my wrist, and tried to get up.Always hanging on the water does not guarantee a person's muscle strength. It took me half an hour to get used to it before I could stand up.Trying to move myself to the front of the mirror at the door, I looked at myself inside.

There is no bruising on the face, no strange redness and swelling on the body, and the bones are all fine.

It really looks like a dream...

It's just a little strange that my quilt is missing.Sherlock must have broken them again, that brash man.

================================================== ==========================================

Sherlock walked out of the house, stood at the door, leaning against the wall, and took out a cigarette from his pocket.

He wanted to continue to take matches, but saw a hand with a leather glove holding a lighter in front of him.Turning his head, he saw a pair of light brown eyes and a very harmless smile.

"Smoking is harmful to your health ~ big detective."

Sherlock did not refuse Moriarty's kindness, he approached Moriarty's lighter and lit the cigarette in his mouth.He took a deep breath, then took it away, and exhaled a cloud of white air.

Moriarty looked at him with a smile and raised his voice, looking very happy: "It seems that you have suffered setbacks, my dear detective."

"It's not a setback." Sherlock said in a low voice, "It's just that John is much stronger than I thought."

"But you also had fun, didn't you?" Moriarty leaned against Sherlock. He was much shorter than Sherlock, but he didn't care about consulting the criminal, and his smile was still very cheerful, "Dear Sherlock~ Wouldn't it be fun to make them instead of solving cases? Destruction and shattering is always so fascinating. Admit it, my great detective, we are one of a kind, and the angels will never be on our side."

Sherlock didn't have any mood swings, he looked at the distant sky with a flat expression: "No, we are still different."

All I care about is Watson, and I will do anything to keep him.

As for Moriarty, he was running those things as a career in his life, and God knew how annoying Sherlock was.The detective was not a philanthropist, all he did was to relieve boredom, and Sherlock was sure he would be even more bored if he had listened to Moriarty.

As for the angel, what did it matter to him where the bird-man with wings stood?Is it great to win an Oscar?

"But, dear Mr. Ma, what are you going to do next? You must know that although you are a horse, Watson is a human being. You will have to live by yourself for thousands of years after his death~"

Sherlock didn't correct him, it didn't matter that he was a unicorn... oh, a horse: "Don't worry about it."

"You'd better find a way to keep him. Only by staying together can he live longer." Moriarty smiled obediently, "If you need my help, I am always here for you."

Without saying a word, Sherlock looked at Moriarty, suddenly smiled, and stretched out his hand.

Moriarty smiled and held his hand, looking smug.

It's good to have business again~

======Daily end of Baker Street======