My son can't be this cute

Chapter 41

The police were notified, and after returning from the Forbidden Forest, Sherlock fell asleep on the bed after returning to the hotel, holding his son who was also sleeping soundly in his arms with his right hand, Watson covered the two with a quilt, and then went out quietly. There are still two hours left before the train ticket is booked.

"How do you feel?" Watson took a cup of warm milk and handed it to the man. The latter's fingertips were still trembling slightly, but his complexion was much better.

"Thank you."

"I'm sorry." Watson sat on the sofa on the other side and said, no matter what Sherlock did, even if it was not his intention, it is a fact that the truth has caused others' sadness, and the military doctor is used to taking that unintentional The damage caused is placed on his own shoulders.

Henry Knight looked at each other for a while, and finally shook his head, "You don't have to say sorry, it's nothing, it's the truth, whether I believe it or not."

There was a bit of silence in the air, only the firewood in the fireplace beeping and beeping, and occasionally sparks jumped onto the partition, but they were quickly extinguished again. After an unknown period of time, the man continued to speak, and Watson could do it. The only thing is to listen quietly.

"I should hate him, and I do, he ruined me, my father, my family, and if I caught him, maybe I'd kill him myself, the moment I know the truth That's what I thought, and the anger made me lose my mind."

"You won't, Henry." Watson shook his head. He has been on the battlefield and knows how intense people's emotions can be when anger is controlled, but that doesn't mean anything. Sherlock had Browning aim at the man who killed his father.

The man took a sip of the milk, he seemed to have calmed down, his blue eyes, which were always like children, felt a little moist, with a nasal sound, just like Watson's impression of him, a kind and innocent man.

"However, as Mr. Holmes told me, even if he kills my father, some things will not change. He is really good to me."

When he was leaving, Dr. Watson was calling the police. The man told himself in a calm voice that Bob hadn't been lying to himself all along, otherwise he wouldn't have shown up when the big dog followed them , he could have continued to pretend, spent some effort, and even destroyed the evidence Sherlock had found, but he didn't do that.

That man hugged his little self on the day he lost his father, comforted him, and assured him that none of these things were false. To be honest, it would be ridiculous to live in hatred after death. Henry Knight is still a little silly rich second generation, but he is not so neurotic. That nightmare has really left.

Watson was a little surprised, but the man in front of him just smiled, "Doctor Watson, your partner is actually a good person." When Henry saw the consulting detective for the first time, Henry thought he was really weird, but I have to say that he is indeed a genius, but geniuses are not uncommon. There are always a few of them in a group, but men who are extremely talented but are willing to take his ordinary military doctor around are rare. Locke's mood at that time completely affected this innocent man. The girl he met on the train was nothing at all. What he needed was a lover who could risk his life.

These words are too warm, so warm that Watson is unwilling to refute any of them, even the one he cares about the most, is mistaken for him and Sherlock as a couple, because he has never heard of pairing from anyone except Lestrade. Such a gentle compliment from Sherlock, and this is a precious gift that Watson wants to collect for his cohabitants.

On the train, the elder and the younger fell asleep, and the younger one was nestled in the other's coat, and Sherlock's shirt was still clutched in his little hand.

"I hope this one can be ironed and smoothed." Watson muttered, you know Sherlock has a heinous cleanliness when it comes to clothes, of course, except when he was solving a case, it was just a broken piece at that time. Rag, the consulting detective, will not hold back either.

Looking back, he pressed the center of his eyebrows to cheer himself up. When Snowflakes kissed the glass window, the military doctor typed the first word of the blog with his finger, and then slowly typed more words. About In this Baswick hound case, at the end, the warm doctor wrote such a sentence.

"My roommate has a genius IQ. He likes others to praise him. He looks a little vain, but he is also real and cute. But this time he got a precious gift during the trip. Thank God, there is finally a second person who said that he He's a nice guy."

As the flight attendant passed the aisle again, the yawning medic refreshed his blog one last time to find that the couch had been taken by a stranger.

"I'm going to give your roommate another gift, absolutely perfect."

Watson frowned and pondered over this information, but in the end there was only one conclusion, that this person was sick.After closing the laptop, the military doctor who didn't care about this detail decided to take a nap. If it wasn't for Teddy and his job, they would have stayed another night.

Pushing his cohabitant, the latter frowned, but still rubbed to the side, Watson sighed, Sherlock is used to encroaching on his territory, God, even sleeping on his side A large part of it, does he have this volume!

For this reason, the righteous military doctor leaned on the opponent's shoulder to sleep with peace of mind. He was exhausted, so he didn't care what others would say when they saw it.

It was midnight when we returned to Baker Street, and the cold wind was a bit biting. There was a ball-like thing moving inside the man's long windbreaker, and his small nose seemed to be wrinkled. After putting it on again, even though he looks a little wobbly, as long as he sits down, he can fall asleep on the road.

Sherlock glanced at his cohabitant, pursed his lips and approached him, firmly hugged Teddy who was sleeping in his arms with his right hand, and wrapped his left hand around the shoulder of the military doctor.

"Ha, what are you doing!" The drowsiness dissipated immediately, and Watson froze and blurted out.

"You look like you're going to fall to the floor so you can get to the apartment quickly."

"I'm fine." The military doctor said dryly, and Sherlock gave up when he saw him persisting. Watson followed behind and murmured, "It's not good." A little awkward.

Back at the door of the apartment, the two silently glanced at each other, conveying such a message in their eyes.

"Where's the key, John."

"And yours?"

"Why do you still carry the key when I have you?"

"...Don't say such misleading words."

"I am telling the truth."

"...that's why I lost my keys, by the way."

"John, you should have said it sooner."

"It was because you threw me down from behind that the key fell!"

Sherlock looked away and knocked on the door, and it must not take long for his nervous landlady to get up and answer it.

"Sherlock, she will blame us." Watson sighed. It was indeed his fault that he lost the key. He could only apologize and appreciate the kind landlady, the military doctor. The two of them are really bad tenants.

"Come on, Sherlock, I don't need to open the door to know it's you, I'm not your housekeeper." With a helpless tone, Mrs. Hudson came out wearing a nightdress and a woolen coat.

"Thank you, Mrs. Hudson." Watson said gratefully, and Sherlock had already slipped into the second floor like a cat returning home.

"What an ungrateful bad boy." Mrs. Hudson shouted upstairs pretending to be angry, and closed the door to let the military doctor come in. She hugged him and smiled kindly.

"Have you enjoyed your honeymoon?"

"...We are just going to solve a case." Watson explained helplessly. Of course, these facts were ignored by the kind and lovely landlady, and her blue eyes blinked at Watson.

"Don't be shy, boy, I know all about it."

Watson decided to give up. He was so tired now that he didn't continue to explain. He just sent Mrs. Hudson back to her room and went upstairs. Sherlock had already changed into his silk pajamas and was lying on the sofa playing with his mobile phone, he had had enough sleep just now, and now Sherlock Holmes's brain has re-entered a state of excitement, and his doctor just yawned, and when he passed by Sherlock's side, he routinely told him to go to bed early, although he knew it was a sentence Crap, because his roommate's eyes are still shining when he browses the web.

When he came upstairs, Watson pulled Teddy into his arms. He still had a few hours to sleep, and at dawn, all kinds of busy things were about to start.

On the other side, Inspector Lestrade, who was so drunk and unconscious, finally came to his senses. The strange place smelled of some kind of detergent used in hotels. He blinked, his voice was dry and uncomfortable, and he got up and looked around. After looking around for four weeks, I found that I should be in a hotel, and I hardly have any impression of what happened yesterday.

Lifting the quilt, Lestrade just put his feet down when he found a glass of water next to the table, which was still warm. It seemed that their owner had left it after calculating the time. There was also a note on it. Take it over and have a look , the competent detective showed a smile.

"I hope this glass of honey water can save a drunk detective." Followed by the initials of almost obsessive-compulsive disorder like the little lunatic in Scotland Yard, the words are like the person, with a certain aggression, and the ending is slyly restrained up sharp.

"Strange person." Lestrade grunted, picked up the cup and drank it down, and found that the ring on his hand seemed to be missing when he left the room. After searching around, he found it on the coffee table. He picked it up and stared at it for a while, then finally put it in his wallet.