My son can't be this cute

Chapter 21

While the cohabitant was taking a shower, Watson took the laptop to the bedroom, plugged it in and turned it on, looking at the white lighted screen, he just created a blog with only a short blog post about him and his cohabitant. Bad first meeting.

"Freak." This is Donovan and Anderson's evaluation, which is close to irony but is also true to a certain extent.

"A good man who still needs time." This is Inspector Lestrade's tolerance and expectation.

"Lovely but a bit willful brother." Mycroft's almost doting evaluation, although most of the time with ridicule and provocation.

"Sherlock Holmes is a mystery." There was only one sentence, and Watson condensed all kinds of weird and even unreasonable behaviors of the man into this word, just like the other's eyes, which are inorganic and cold, but also have a familiar color, And at that time they had only known each other for a few hours, not enough time for a good dinner.Now, his roommate calmly tells him that at some point in time they had a son.

This is unbelievable, unscientific, and a naked lie. The military doctor tried to use rational thinking to keep himself calm, but it was useless.The man who had dragged him on an adventurous journey, and now used those long fingers to show himself magical, an impossible son, and he didn't use Browning to tell the guy to tease a soldier and not It was not a fun thing, subconsciously, I believed in him, in the man named Sherlock Holmes.

"Daddy, don't leave me." The boy with his little face upturned and hugged him tightly said wrongedly, he was begging, and John Watson, the man who had been on the battlefield, had no problem facing all of this. Powerless, even if it was beyond his common sense.

He pursed his lips, and the doctor said in his heart that he needed to use this way of talking to relieve the pressure in his heart. He tapped the keyboard with two fingers inexperiencedly. At the beginning, he tried his best to describe all the wonderful things from an objective perspective. During the process of solving the case, but in the end, those still vivid pictures kept appearing in his mind, and those words of praise came out naturally, with a smile, John Watson wrote the second blog, which was a little longer, like A faithful recorder with some banter mixed in.

From the title Pink Study to the end, the whole case is vivid and interesting. The detective in a black coat with curly hair and sharp eyes will blend into people's lives like air, and all this is recorded by John Watson. After those cases, some teasing and warm words made people feel more interesting.

"My cohabitant is kind of cute, because his mental age is often only 12 years old, but many times it can't change the fact that he is annoying, but I think I can bear it." This is their first case record The words that followed were the comments John Watson gave to his cohabitants.

Just after choosing to publish, Watson was sure that he only posted for a while, maybe just blinked his eyes a few times, and soon he found that the blog had the first commenter, from his cohabitant who was supposed to be still in the shower.

"John, I'm not cute, delete it."

His first message was from his roommate, that kind of nasty and kind of guy, maybe with some bathroom steam and someone's annoyance, and Watson started laughing and replied to the guy.

"Sherlock, this is my blog, and my answer is no."

The very happy military doctor unknowingly forgot the previous nervousness, he clenched his fists and said to himself about the unbelievable question about himself and Sherlock's son.

"John Watson, you are the man who invaded Afghanistan. It is not terrible to have a son with Sherlock Holmes. It is just the beginning of another adventure."

Watson decided to go downstairs to make himself a cup of black tea and sleep, because tomorrow, there was a battle waiting for him. Even a military doctor needed a little buffer. He, Sherlock and Teddy had to have a good talk.

Just as he went downstairs, he saw Sherlock in blue silk pajamas lying on the couch. His hair was still wet, and it looked like fresh and tender plants that had just sprouted in the morning, black and soft.

"Still asleep?" Watson asked, clearing his throat.

"I sleep here, I'm not used to sleeping with other people." Sherlock wrinkled his nose.

"He's your son, well, he's also my son, Sherlock, you have to get used to it." Watson approached a little closer and looked at his cohabitant with his right hand on the back of the sofa, but the other party just replied lazily: " He doesn't need me to carry him every day, he's a big enough boy."

Watson smiled. "Sherlock, I think this is the softest conversation we've had."

The man snorted softly, with a nasal sound.Watson straightened up and asked, "Tea or milk?"

"Black coffee, two spoons of sugar."

If you give others a choice, most people will choose one of the two, but Sherlock can always invent an option on his own, and he is self-willed enough. Watson is not angry, but just bends the corners of his lips, facing a gentle Sherlock, He has enough patience.

"No, Sherlock, only black tea or milk, and the extra service I can provide is to bring it to you."

"Milk." Sherlock replied in a muffled voice, sliding his slender fingers quickly on the BlackBerry.

The steaming milk cup was stuffed into Sherlock's hand. Sherlock drinking milk from the ceramic cup looked like Teddy, Watson thought while blinking.

"John, don't look at me like that, it makes me think you're looking at a teddy bear."

Watson laughed, while his roommate just rolled his eyes.

"You can go to sleep on my bed, and I can sleep on the sofa, Sherlock, after two days of running outside, even the most excited cat will get tired, I think you need to rest."

"No need." Sherlock replied bluntly. After finishing speaking, he glanced at the other party and pursed his lips. "I'm used to sleeping on the sofa. When I think I really need to rest, John, I know what to do."

Watson shrugged his shoulders and stopped pressing, his blue eyes looked at the other party, "But I hope you will accept the kindness of the blanket I gave you."

"Thank you." Sherlock nodded. The milk in his hand had already been drunk. Watson took the cup and put it in the kitchen. When he came back, Sherlock had turned his back to me and I was sleeping on the sofa.

He went upstairs and took a blanket to cover the other party. Watson didn't stay long. He went to Sherlock's bedroom to check on Teddy. The little boy was still sleeping well with his lips pouting, but his arms One more pillow, hugged in a dependent posture.A kiss, a soft word, the most genuine reaction from the military doctor's heart.

"Good night, son."

The lights went out, and 221B Baker Street merged into the night. Only the sparse stars in the sky blinked, but through the thick gray clouds, there were actually more stars in it.