[Comprehensive] 221B's dead house girl

Connie stayed up all night, reading all the letters Alex wrote her.

After John and Sherlock went to the hospital, they came back alone and saw Connie sitting on the sofa alone reading the letter.

Walked over with worried eyes.

"It's so late and you haven't slept yet?" Hasn't Connie never been able to stay up late?

Connie looked up blankly and glanced at John.

"Did you see her?" Her words stunned John for a long time, not knowing how to answer her.

Does that mean Irene Adler is dead?

Or did Sherlock recognize her dead body at a glance?

??????On the premise that the woman has been ruined beyond recognition.

Finally, John had no choice but to nod: "She's dead."

Connie didn't respond to this.

Immediately afterwards, she smiled lightly, as if she didn't care, but from now on, she seemed to be masochistic: "Did he recognize her body at a glance? Even if the woman has been destroyed beyond recognition?"

This sentence was barely audible.

John was taken aback, thinking for a split second that Connie might be able to read minds.

He opened his mouth to say something, but seeing Connie's faint smile, he couldn't say a word.

At this moment, he felt that everything he said was pale.

Because she seemed to already know the answer, asking again was not to confirm the answer.

half an hour.

"Go to sleep, it's late." Connie lowered her head and looked at the letter in her hand again. She read it slowly and carefully, as if she wanted to read every word into her heart.

John looked up at her, feeling that she looked very religious at this moment.

He sighed, yawned again, and took the blanket and sat down beside her.

"I'll just sit here, and if you have anything you want to talk to, you can tell me." John's eyes seemed to be looking at a weak little sister, he lowered his head and kissed Connie on the forehead, and then lay down on the sofa On, soon fell asleep.

Connie looked at his tired face, smiled silently, and divided the blanket covering her body in half.

At dawn, Connie finished reading the letters Alex had written in the past five years under the fire, and her mind was very groggy. Forced to sleep.

When Sherlock came back, what he saw happened to be the appearance of John and Connie sleeping with their heads together. The tips of their noses were touching at this moment, and the distance could not be any closer. Sherlock could tell at a glance that the two people were in this posture. , at least more than two hours.

He stood there silently, then suddenly stepped forward, pulled the blanket to wrap Connie up, leaving John half lying on the sofa alone.

The fire on the wall has been extinguished, it is winter, and the cold still fills the whole house.

The residual temperature didn't last long, and John woke up shivering from the cold.

He squinted his eyes, looked at the scattered letters on the sofa, got up and walked to Sherlock's room with a dazed expression.

"Sherlock?" His hands stopped, "..."

The short blond hair was messy, but it was not as messy as the mess under his eyes at the moment.

#His 1.9-meter-tall partner is hugging another 1.6-meter-tall partner#

#Sleep soundly#

There was a faint fragrance in the room, and Sherlock probably just came back not long ago.

"Close the door." A sentence suddenly came out of the bed.

John was startled: "You didn't sleep?"

Sherlock didn't answer, John paused, and whispered: "If you haven't slept, come out and chat for a while."

"It's about her." After speaking, John closed the door.

There was no movement in the room.

John lit the fire again, added some firewood to it, poured two cups of coffee and sat on the sofa to wait for Sherlock.

After a few minutes, he came out.

John drank half a cup of coffee and saw Sherlock drooping his eyes, as if in a daze.

He sighed, so he had to take the initiative to ask: "She is very sad."

"It's just a feeling, but I think she has always been an optimistic and cheerful little girl, but last night... I could feel her mood... It seemed that she was struggling and sad, although she didn't show it at all."

"Why?" He looked sideways and frowned.

John felt his heart was broken.

#Even in love#

#Sherlock's emotional intelligence is still high and low to terrible#

"Are you really not understanding? Or are you pretending not to understand? Or have you never cared?" Sherlock felt that Irene's specialness was obviously abnormal to him, let alone Connie?

However, that woman is dead.

If she really, really means anything to Sherlock...

#John seems to suddenly understand why Connie is so sad#

#Although this reason has nothing to do with the truth#

"Do you like that woman?"

"Irene Adler."

John stared at Sherlock with a burning, vivid fire in his eyes.

Sherlock didn't answer, normally he would.

He once said that he had no interest in love.

Suddenly there was movement in the room.

John turned his head, but Sherlock had already stood up suddenly, and rushed over with a stride.

John raised his heart and let it go, it seems that Sherlock still cares about Connie very much.

John sat on the sofa and sighed again.

If there is a chance, Sherlock should really have a taste of "jealous".

"Sherlock?" There was no movement for a long time, and suddenly there was a loud noise in the room, which made me jump.

John got up and ran over, and saw the broken glass in the room.

"What happened?" He asked in surprise, and suddenly realized that Connie was gone.

"Where's Connie?"

Sherlock's face was startlingly terrifying, and he was holding a pink post-it note in his hand at this moment.

He walked over and saw that it was written in beautiful fonts.

"FAREWELL."

"Who left the note?" John walked over to take a look, with a bad feeling in his heart.

Sherlock's face was darker than the sky outside the window.

??

When Connie woke up, she was lying on the roof, and the raindrops were falling, but not hitting her body, and there was a layer of transparent glass above her.

#scare#

"Are you awake?" A figure came from below, and Connie sat up, and found herself lying on the roof in her pajamas, and there was a pot cooking on the balcony.

The smell wafted over, making her move her index finger.

"Lean meatballs, have some?" Mary raised her hand and smiled at her.

"Why am I here?" She didn't fall asleep in 221B...

Connie got up and lowered the roof subconsciously. Although the height was only one meter, she was still frightened by her nimble hands and feet.

Seeing Connie looking down at herself strangely, Mary smiled knowingly: "I've given you some supplements, don't be surprised, come here."

Connie approached her, looked at the lean meatballs in the pot, and swallowed.

The two scooped up a bowl and ran back to the roof, listening to the rain while eating.

a long time.

"You still haven't said why I'm here?"

"I brought you here."

Connie: "..."

#Probably she doesn't need to ask#

"Where have you been these days?"

"I am going home."

The two spoke in unison.

Connie was taken aback, looked at Mary, and said stupidly: "Go home?!"

"Well, I found a way, and I got in touch with my sister, I'm going to find her."

Speaking of this, she smiled, with a subtle smile in her smile: "I came here because of her at the beginning... I came to you today just to ask, I'm leaving next month, do you want to come together?"

Connie didn't know how to answer, so she just sat there blankly.

Mary's eyes saw through her hesitation: "Reluctant to leave?"

Connie turned around confusedly and nodded.

Mary laughed: "You are straightforward."

There was a hint of melancholy in that smile, and those blue eyes reminded Connie of Moriarty.

She pursed her lips: "Give me some time to think about it."

Mary smiled: "I have notified 221B, you can stay with me for a few days before going back." Thinking of the farewell note she left behind, Mary secretly thought that Sherlock should be more sensible.

When Connie said that, she remembered about Irene Adler, and nodded annoyedly: "That's fine."

Time flies by, 221B has spent a very gloomy week.

John who followed Sherlock was the most distressed. Sherlock kept Connie's departure from him, and he himself was caught in an endless loop of cases. Among them, the one that gave John the most headache was that Irene Adler .

The person who thought to be dead came back to life, not only that, but also appeared on Sherlock's bed.

#Sleep soundly#

"That's Connie's bed!" John growled.

Sherlock glanced at him. "That's my bed."

John puffed his mouth and glared at Sherlock angrily: "You know what I mean!"

Sherlock didn't speak, just looked at him.

John was sad and heartbroken.

The two walked out of the room and waited for the woman to wake up in the living room.

Her hair was wet and she was even wearing Sherlock's nightgown.

After a long silence, the firewood was crackling, just like John's current mood.

"Sherlock," John said.

Sherlock looked at him, but his eyes were a little lax: "?"

"Perhaps Moriarty took Connie away, aren't you in a hurry?"

"..."

"I'm serious!"

Sherlock still didn't respond.

John felt like he was going to smoke.

"Imagine that Connie is lying on Moriarty's boat like Irene, and the two of them sleep in each other's arms, eat together, go in and out together, and later they will hug and kiss...they will form a family, will There are a lot of children, and you will be just a stranger!" John Watson began to use his huge imagination.

"impossible."

The firm tone made John pause.

"Why is it impossible?"

"I said it was impossible." He replied quickly.

John hugged his forehead: "Love is something you can't control, what if?"

"Not to mention the good or bad for this society, as far as love is concerned, Moriarty has done better than you."

At least people knew about giving gems and flowers five years ago.

And all you know is to let people slice their brains.

Thinking of the gossip he heard from Lestrade, John muttered to himself.

Even now, he still occasionally feels that it is simply abnormal for Connie to fall in love with Sherlock.

Seeing the silence, John was about to say a few more words before giving up, but saw Sherlock's gaze, staring at him fixedly, which made him open his mouth in fright, but nothing came out.

It was a long time before he looked back.

"I will set her free again."

John raised his eyebrows: "What freedom?"

"A freedom of choice."

"The only time."

"If she chooses to stay."

"I won't let her take another step away from me."

These overbearing words that only appeared in novels unexpectedly came out of Sherlock Holmes' mouth.

John was so shocked that his scalp went numb, and goosebumps popped out all over his body.

He couldn't help trembling, looking into Sherlock's deep and dangerous eyes, and felt for the first time that maybe he didn't understand Sherlock at all.

Everyone has a dark side.

But he always thought that the darkest side of Sherlock was shooting bullets at the wall when the case was boring or there was no case.

Or for a dangerous case, being involved in the underworld, fighting, taking drugs... and so on.

This was the darkest time he could have imagined about Sherlock.

However, all the things he had met, all the things he had imagined, the dark side of Sherlock, could not be compared to his present look.