Detective Sherlock doesn't wait for the wind to blow

What does it feel like to be abandoned by the people you think are closest to you.

Because I have been lonely, because I am used to being lonely.Therefore, when there are people walking together in the life that is always walking alone, it seems so difficult to let go.

When getting along becomes a habit, it will become an addiction that is difficult to quit, even the genius Sherlock cannot avoid it.

For example, he is always used to black coffee, two pieces of sugar.

In the dark night, he was lying on the bed, full of energy, listening to the small conversation of the little girl next door.

Don't ask why you can hear it, Sherlock will never lack high technology.

His slender and beautiful fingers moved slightly, which was a small movement he was used to when thinking.

Hamish heard Shirley's voice getting smaller and smaller, and finally fell asleep, but he tossed and turned, unable to fall asleep.

She missed the safety of her little body nestled in Sherlock's thick arms.

But thinking about what Shirley said to herself before... She is already 12 years old, and it is indeed time for her to sleep by herself.

but……

Hamish sat up, but still couldn't sleep.

Comparing shame and sleep, sleep is still more important.

When Hamish crept open the door and lay down next to Sherlock with the quilt in his arms, a voice suddenly came from his ear, "Remember to take off your shoes next time you want to sneak in."

Hamish smiled flatteringly and pulled the quilt to cover her face. She was also ashamed of running to find her father to sleep in the middle of the night, and felt like a little baby.

Maybe in Sherlock's eyes, she is really still a little doll.

He grabbed her with his long hand, brought her into his arms, leaned against her shoulder as if holding a large doll, and fell asleep with his eyes closed.

Hamish silently adjusted to a comfortable position, and fell asleep with peace of mind.

She can predict Shirley's desperate eyes on her tomorrow.

But so what.

What did it matter that Sherlock was her adoptive father, he was her kin.

Hamish loves to read poetry, only to those close to her, like Sherlock.

But in Sherlock's ears, all sounds related to literature... are noises.

He couldn't stand the sound of Hamish reading poetry disturbing his thoughts.

He thinks all the time.

Hamish's only chance may be to read a few lines of his favorite poems or plays to Sherlock when he wakes up in the morning, bathed in the morning light.

Though Sherlock probably certainly didn't know what she was reading.

Like now.

Standing in front of the closet, Sherlock helped her choose the clothes to match today. He had absolutely no hope for Hamish's aesthetics.He quickly scanned the closet, like analyzing data, quickly matched a suit in his mind, took it off without hesitation, and threw it to Hamish.

Hamish took it, changed it obediently, and did not express any opinions based on his own aesthetics.

Sherlock was leaning against the window and playing his violin, the sun was shining on his hair, and his face seemed to be dazzled by light and shadow.

Hamish sat on the edge of the bed, looked at her, opened and closed her lips, her soft and soft voice of reciting poems was hidden under the sound of the piano, she just couldn't help but marvel at him every time, hoping to praise him with a chant everything of.

Sherlock tugged seemingly unconsciously, and no one would know, the keen ears under the curly hair moved slightly.

"I love you, Sherlock Holmes. The man Hamish Holmes loves most is Mr. Sherlock Holmes."

Sherlock didn't seem to be moved, he still put his violin on calmly, closed the case, pulled her over naturally, and rubbed her naturally curly hair.