Detective Sherlock doesn't wait for the wind to blow

The author has something to say: If you find the last chapter, you can finish writing and set "end"

full of words

221B is deserted, damp, and empty.A house that has not been lived in for too long cannot always make people feel warm.

The room had obviously been cleaned. Even though it was empty, it had been cleaned and ventilated, and it did not have the rotten smell that Hamish imagined.

Her room has been carefully arranged, and it is still her favorite low-key and luxurious style. The texture of the satin on the bed seems to be tempting her to enjoy sleep and sink into dreams.

Hamish opened the refrigerator, and only the fresh ingredients were quietly displayed. The portions were not large, and they were all prepared according to his own preferences.Hamish had an expression of "as expected" and felt helpless and unwilling on his face.

Sherlock is not here.

Not going back here anytime soon.

At least, Mycroft thought, he wouldn't.

For three years, she had very little contact with the Holmes family.

The emotional communication of this family is not enthusiastic, and even when she is with Sherlock, there is not much intersection.

Hamish could feel the hidden surveillance sent by Mycroft. Of course, it was because McCoff deliberately let her know, expressing his care and protection awkwardly.

During the month of living in London, she did not see Sherlock who let her return quickly, nor did she see Mycroft and the elderly Holmes couple.She entered the major she wanted, studied literature, went to and from classes normally, and lived alone.

Once again, Hamish realizes that the only link between her and the Holmes family is Sherlock.

In this world, no one is indispensable.

In the not-too-distant future, Hamish sometimes guesses whether Sherlock is in a not-too-distant place and came back suddenly after seeing her through.

On the night of No. 30 days back in London, in the dark room, Hamish vaguely felt the touch, opened his eyes in confusion, and stared blankly at the figure standing beside the bed.

His slender body leaned down, and seeing her wake up, her face leaned forward, her eyes met, her breath intertwined, and the extremely close distance made Hamish's thoughts even more confused.

He seemed to want to get up, but before he could think, Hamish's left hand tightly covered the slender and cold right hand. The familiar cold feeling made her calm down, and countless questions returned to silence. The grievance disappeared in the night.

She held it with great strength, as if she felt that in a dream, except for holding it tightly, her body did not dare to make the slightest movement, for fear of waking up.

Perhaps seeing her worry, the edge of the bed collapsed, and he sat down gently.

The heavy curtain blocked the bleak light, and through the darkness, she looked into his eyes and fell into a deep sleep.

When Hamish woke up the next day, it was close to noon. She rarely slept until this time. She rubbed her still dizzy head, opened the door and rushed outside.

Sherlock was immersing himself in the hall of his thoughts with his chin resting on his back, familiar posture, familiar expression, familiar position, and familiar instructions.

"Coffee, Mimi."

Hamish, who woke up, gritted his teeth hard.

When the familiar coffee taste after many years of absence bloomed in the taste buds, this reserved gentleman finally stepped out of his spiritual world and showed interest in conversation.

Hamish looked at his indifferent face, swallowed all the questions again, and looked at him seriously and intently, "What's for lunch today?"

"..."

The resistance to this kind of silent communication was too obvious, so Hamish replied self-consciously, "To celebrate, let's go out to eat, old place?"

His expression finally became formal, "Are you angry? Why?"

Hamish smiled, "No sir, I'm glad to see you again."

"lie."

"No", she made a relaxed expression and tried to make her voice sound pleasant, "Where is that woman? Didn't she come back with you?"

"Why do you ask, Mimi?"

"...Father...Mother, come back safely together, isn't that right?" Hamish can almost imagine his current expression, the smile he tried to maintain must be about to twist.

"Irene Adler?" There was obvious doubt in his tone, as if he couldn't understand Hamish's thoughts and logic, and then he thought of something, showing a mysterious and mocking smile, "You actually believe that Three years, Mimi, I'm afraid you've lost even your basic IQ."

The more he thought about it, the happier he was, the wider the smile, and he showed Hamish a smirk full of wrinkles, from which Hamish felt his hidden dissatisfaction.

"I'm just your caregiver."

"The wild imagination in your mind can stop here."

After being ridiculed again after three years, Hamish only felt that his joy spread from his heart to the corners of his eyes and brows.