My son can't be this cute

Chapter 67

"I'm afraid that if I don't come back, you'll just run away foolishly behind him." Jim said teasingly, Angelo blushed, raised her hand and pushed his cheek, with a look of disgust on her face .

"Don't talk nonsense here, I hate that guy."

"Really." Jim dragged his voice, Angelo turned his face away, blinked his long eyelashes, but just pursed his lips and stopped talking.

"Okay, my little angel, go and sit down."

"You pulled me here!" Angelo growled, and he knew that this guy was always in a hurry, and he must have come back this time because there was no one to play with over there.

"Don't look at me like that, my son." Jim reached out and pinched the other's cheek, and the latter resisted the urge to slap his paw away, staring at him with a pair of beautiful amber eyes, "Are you overplaying again? ?”

"My little angel really understands me." Jim sighed exaggeratedly.

Angelo rolled his eyes. Facing his father, he always couldn't keep calm. He always had a way to make himself angry.

"Okay, let's go home, my little Angie." Jim smiled and rubbed the boy's head, but the boy looked at him blankly, before blurting out, "Are you plotting against me again?"

Jim Moriarty looked at his son quietly, and finally leaned over, bit his tender face, and said through gritted teeth, "You are definitely not my own."

"I was born by my mother." Angelo shouted angrily, covering her cheeks.

"Without me, your mother couldn't have given birth to you. Well, son, don't you think it's not good to mention your mother who died young?"

"You said it first, you bastard!"

"Okay, okay, my fault, let's go home now." Jim said casually while starting the car, while Angelo on the side had already climbed to the co-pilot to fasten his seat belt, pursed his lips and turned his head to look out the window, There was moisture in the amber eyes.

"Okay, don't cry, you are a big boy." Jim said lightly, and his son refuted his words as soon as he landed.

"I'm only seven years old." Angelo ostentatiously took out a neatly stacked handkerchief from his pocket, and wiped away his tears. Well, there was no snot, that was disgusting.

Ah, as if withdrawing, Jim Moriarty bent the corners of his lips, and the soft boy like a teddy bear flashed in his mind.

"Go home, Angie." Jim curled his lips into a smile, and the black-haired boy nodded with his chin raised high, temporarily forgiving the liar.

On the other hand, little Teddy, who came home with his father and daddy, was still tearful. His lips were broken, and An Qi's teeth were too strong, and they still hurt.

"Come on, honey, put your mouth up, yes, that's it." Watson put one leg on the sofa and occupied the other leg, and took a cotton swab to apply medicine to Little Teddy's mouth. The boy gnawed too much. Seriously, Watson's father put medicine on his son's lips very distressedly, and Sherlock was responsible for acting as a soft cushion.

"Hole..." Little Teddy said inarticulately.

"Good boy, I'll be fine soon." Watson comforted me gently.

After taking the medicine, little Teddy rolled out of Sherlock's arms suddenly, pointed to his father with teary eyes and said, "Daddy hurt me!" It turned out that it wasn't the pain in the mouth, but that Sherlock was pushing too hard.

"Come on, let Daddy take a look." Watson comforted the child while taking a look at his clothes. It was indeed a little red.

"Bad guy." Little Teddy said sobbingly, he felt that his father must be taking revenge.

Sherlock, who had been silent all this time, finally couldn't help but retort, even though his son is an injured patient now, he is too aggressive, "Teddy Holmes, don't give me the opportunity to act like a spoiled child."

Little Teddy pouted his lips in dissatisfaction, and muttered in Watson's arms that his heart was also hurt, and he urgently needed the comfort of the little cake.

"Okay, Sherlock, don't worry about your son." Watson lightly rejected Sherlock's protest, and carried his son to the dining table, and prepared a small cake for him. The little guy was shocked, Mycroft, Lestrade, and Mrs. Jasmine Hudson bought a bunch of candy, snacks and toys, and they couldn't be wiped out by Christmas.

On the road, Lestrade, who had just sent Molly Amber back, chatted curiously with his boyfriend, "I said Mike." I don't know when the Scottish inspector decided to call his boyfriend so affectionately. Unless the other party made him angry, then he would call out his full name, that twisted name, with a cold face.

"What?" Mycroft asked with a smile. In fact, he already knew what the other party would ask, but as the other party's boyfriend, it seems that it is not good if he has been performing too well. You must give the other party a little face. So appropriate expression of stupidity is also the way to get along between partners.

"During the performance, you and Sherlock were staring at the clothes of the boy who played the prince. Is there anything I should pay attention to?" With the sensitive sense of smell of dogs.

"Well, I think we'd better go back and talk, dear Greg."

Lestrade blushed a little, raised his hand and scratched his cheek, and muttered, "Okay."

At nine o'clock in the evening, Watson came down from upstairs, and Sherlock was using his computer with a double password again. He rolled his eyes, and didn't bother to continue talking to him about it. As long as he didn't want to, Sherlock would , then what others say is all nonsense, and there is no need to turn it over in your head.

"What are you looking at?" Watson poured himself a glass of milk and two candies from the cohabitant's milk. When he handed it to the other party, the man knew where to reach out without even raising his eyes. With a mischievous mind, he deviated his right hand a little, and the hand with a well-defined joint also deviated accordingly, and found the position of the milk accurately.

"How did you do it? It's amazing!" Watson exclaimed, and handed the milk to the other party. The latter took the milk and turned to look at him, not feeling the need to be humble at all. It's impossible to understand."

"Yes, yes, and I belong to ordinary people." Watson said funny, sitting on his sofa with milk, his legs stretched out relaxed, touching Sherlock's feet.

Sherlock looked at the foot, which was white but callused. John once said that his old legs had been running for a long time, and he didn't even want to run anymore, but he still accompanied him in the alleys of London Walking through, he blinked his eyes and put the other's tired legs on his own. This action made Watson, who had his eyes slightly closed, move subconsciously, wanting to retract his legs.

"Don't move." Sherlock called in a low voice, his voice was as elegant as a cello.

Watson felt a little embarrassed. Although he was wearing socks and Sherlock was wearing his suit pants, he just felt a little awkward. Well, generally speaking, no matter how nice two big men are, they would not put their legs on each other. body it.

"I don't think I need to put..."

"Shut up, John." Sherlock interrupted the other party's words directly and unceremoniously, while staring intently at the computer screen, with a pair of slender hands moving quickly on the keyboard.

"Okay." Watson closed his mouth, because he knew that when Sherlock started to concentrate when he was working or playing, you had to accommodate him.The empty milk cup was placed on the coffee table, the liquid slowly slipped down, the glass became mottled, and his vision became more and more blurred, the warmth from the soles of his feet felt really good, he was like this before falling into a dream Thought.

The speed of Sherlock's typing gradually slowed down when Watson began to doze off, and finally it was quiet. Only the occasional beeping sound of the flame in the fireplace was in the air. For the two of them at this moment, it was just Like a lullaby.

Sherlock blinked, and he stretched out his hand to touch John's foot on his thigh. It was smaller than his own. To be honest, the calf was not long, but it was strong, and the muscle line was also very beautiful. Most importantly, They were John Watson's calves, and a smile came to the detective's lips at the thought, his.

When Watson woke up, he saw the man on the opposite side with his eyes closed quietly, breathing very shallowly, but he seemed to be asleep. He tried to move his legs, but it was useless. Sherlock hugged him like he was hugging a pillow. Grasping his legs firmly, Watson groaned. He desperately needed to go to the toilet now, but Sherlock couldn't bear to sleep so soundly.

Maybe Watson made too many small movements, maybe Watson's brain waves were too strong, maybe it was just because Sherlock drank too much milk. In short, after the military doctor struggled for 5 minutes, Sherlock woke up. Those big light-colored eyes blinked in a daze, then pursed their lips and blinked again, then threw Watson's legs on the sofa, got up and left by himself.

When you struggle with a person's sleep for a long time, and finally endure your physical pain, it shows that you care about him, but when the person you care about wakes up and throws your legs on the sofa without hesitation Even if he was a mild military doctor, he would explode after he left contentedly, but the military doctor also needed to go to the toilet before the outbreak.

Watson jumped up from the sofa with bare feet, went to Sherlock's door and turned the lock, only to find that it was locked. Yes, Sherlock Holmes, who never locked the door, locked the door with a flick of his hand. !And just after returning home, Watson found that the toilet in their bathroom was broken!

"Sherlock, you bastard, open the fucking door for me!"

According to Mrs. Hudson, that night, the collapsed military doctor kept scratching the door outside, and the reason why she didn't go to see it was that it was better for outsiders not to get involved in the couple's housework.