[Comprehensive Yingmei] Genius Lianmeng

Chapter13 The continuation of the dream

"Need milk, Dr. Lecter?" Watson stared at the demon awakened by the nightmare, and said in a doctor's professional and steady tone, "Milk helps sleep. In fact, I have a tendency to be attacked by nightmares recently." He thought of the cat's claws wrapped around his neck, and sighed inexorably.

Hannibal was dressed in elegant silk pajamas - as exquisite as Sherlock's - and the smooth fabric clung to his muscular, sweat-beaded torso like a second skin over a smooth body.

"Your eyes seem to have absorbed the most fascinating pigments of darkness, dreams, and candlelight, and turned purple." Dr. Lecter replied irresponsibly, with the tip of his red tongue appearing between two red lips, like a snake letter She took it back, "And your hair is like a copper basin shining in the warm sun."

Words were turned into words, and words were turned into images. He seemed to have suddenly understood the principle of the "memory palace", and scenes were played in Watson's mind:

Purple, copper basin.

The eggplants in the vegetable garden are purple, and the copper pots in the vegetable garden make the sun shine warm and warm.

Among the vegetable bushes, Mischa sat in the bathtub shining in the warm sun.Cabbage butterflies flew around her.The bath water only reached her chubby legs.The nanny went into the house to get the blanket, and the serious brother Hannibal and the big dog were strictly required to watch over her.Misha put her star-like baby palm on the face of her brother who was terribly enthusiastic and incredibly sensible, and giggled at that face that could tear people apart in the future.

Misha liked to stare at the eggplant in the sunlight, reaching across Lecter to touch it.Hannibal knelt beside a row of eggplants, and the soap bubbles reflected shapes, purple shapes, green shapes, and then burst on the plowed earth.He took his pocket knife, cut off the stem of an eggplant, and polished it with a handkerchief.The eggplant has been exposed to the sun, and it is warm in the hand, like a small animal.He took the eggplant into Misha's nursery and put it where she could see it...

An idea flew in his mind, and Watson suddenly had an urgent urge, but he didn't know whether Dr. Lecter would like to talk about Misha with outsiders.Finally, the adrenaline boiling in his veins made him speak: "Even if time cannot be turned back, Dr. Lecter, there is still a place for Misha in this world, even if this place exists in another time and space."

There was a storm in Dr. Lecter's purple-brown eyes.He closed his eyes, as if he was blinded by the flames of the big bang in his heart.

He calmed down for a while, and when those strange eyes opened again, calm filled them again.

The doctor said in his hoarse metal scraping voice: "Sorry for disturbing your sleep, and thank you for your kind suggestion, little John, fly back to sleep in the nest."

Watson nodded, said goodnight, and shut the three sources of light in the bedroom—the candle and Hannibal's eyes—behind him.

The Abnormal Human Research Center asked Watson to live in 221B Baker Street, and ordered him not to give Sherlock any spoilers, in exchange for the health, safety and happiness of his parents-so far, there is no stronger desire than this.

Then, only on the condition of Misha's resurrection can Dr. Lecter, who is accustomed to pleasure and never treats himself badly, be willing to be in the single bedroom of the small and noisy double apartment.

The rare and true John Stupid Emperor Watson walked back to Sherlock's bedroom with heavy and staggering steps-from now on, the real "cohabitation life" began, and the relationship between him and his roommate It can't be washed anymore.

Sleepy-eyed Teddy threw himself into Sherlock's bed, falling asleep as soon as his head touched the pillow,

The dream is calling.

Dreams are around him, floating around him, waiting for him.

Watson could already see it and feel it.

He paused for a moment.

There are no harsh violins, no gunshots, no "boring" complaints, and the night at 211B Baker Street is rarely maintained in a normal state of tranquility.

He walked into the dream.

Watson found himself on a train.The details of this dream were so real that he could even feel the vibration of the train clanging.This is not modern transportation, but a Victorian train.

Just when he was about to reach his destination - don't ask why, Watson just knew that his destination was about to arrive, just as he subconsciously knew that it was a train from the late nineteenth century - a man suddenly sat down opposite him , a carriage was occupied by Watson and this vague-faced man alone.

Then, the man put his hands on Watson's lap, holding Watson in a very familiar gesture.He gradually approached, just like the morning mist dissipated, and Watson gradually discovered the appearance of the man in the dream: first, a slender hooked nose pierced the fog of the dream, then a firm and square chin, and then It was a pair of mischievous and piercing eyes--the color cannot be distinguished in the dimness--looking directly at Watson's eyes.

Watson swears by his life experience in two lifetimes and Sherlock's EQ, he has never seen a man with such a hooked nose, square jaw and sharp eyes, even though this man is very familiar in his dream, as if he has been there for more than 100 years They knew each other before, and they lived together for decades...

Watson desperately opened his eyes wide in his dream, trying to take a closer look...

"John? John!"

He watched the dream shrink, collapse, and go away in frustration, rubbed his eyes in resignation, and opened those blue eyes that were desperately opened in the dream——

Sherlock's eyes, so beautiful that people want to punch them, magnified in front of Watson.

Their faces were so close that Watson was close enough to make out the different colored particles in the irises that made his eyes so varied in color that they sometimes appeared light blue, sometimes a chaotic gray, sometimes dark blue. Light green, like a calm and shimmering lake in the sun.

"Move 3.4 inches toward two o'clock, John, you've crushed my arm into a discus."

The detective was obviously waiting for an answer or action from his bedmate, but Watson was sleepy-eyed and hadn't been able to tune in to think.

So Sherlock had no choice but to blink his Persian cat-like eyes, and repeated the instructions again. His voice blew past Watson's ears like a deep, long and sparkling river.

and many more……

Why are they sleeping on the same pillow? !

They... share the same bed! ! !

To strangle your roommate or to strangle yourself, that is the question.

Ashamed, angry and violent, Teddy fell into the dilemma of killing or committing suicide.