Two weeks after Anne and Shylock returned to London from the 19th century,
Watson was the first to notice Shylock's abnormality.
When the doctor told Anne his conjecture, she stood there in a daze for a long time, unable to react.
Dr. Watson looked at her and thought for a moment,
Then he said, "I don't think this is a bad thing. You know, in the previous cases, Shylock would be too impulsive whenever he got excited. He never avoided direct confrontations with criminals, and there were some extremely vicious criminals among them. I often worry about his safety, and now maybe... "
The doctor didn't finish his sentence,
Obviously, he also felt uncomfortable with Shylock's sudden change.
Anne nodded and said softly, "I need to think about it."
These few days, when Anne returned to Baker Street from school,
She always saw Shylock lying on the sofa at the end of the living room in his blue nightgown,
Sometimes holding two newspapers,
Sometimes staring at the ceiling in a daze.
If it weren't for Dr. Watson's reminder, Anne really wouldn't have noticed anything wrong. Because in the past, Shylock often didn't go out for a few days,
But that was usually when there was no case that interested him.
But Dr. Watson said that clients kept coming to him these days. There were a few cases where even the doctor could see that Shylock showed a strong interest, but in the end, he rejected them for various reasons.
Even Inspector Lestrade, who came to him for help with the case, was not spared.
Shylock could shoot at the wall if he didn't have a case for three days, but this time, he pushed away all the cases.
Watson couldn't help but feel puzzled,
But in just a moment,
He understood in an instant.
Anne was the same.
She knew why Shylock did this.
In Anne's heart,
Or rather, in the hearts of everyone who knew Shylock, the name Sherlock Holmes was more like a symbol. He was naturally associated with all the bizarre cases.
Anne never thought that one day, he would waver in the profession of detective — although to him, it was more of an interest than a profession.
Anne remembered what Watson said again — perhaps, this was not a bad thing.
...
She thought all the way back to the apartment on Baker Street.
Usually, when Anne's footsteps sounded on the stairs, Shylock could tell, but he was obviously distracted by something else today. The detective only came back to his senses when she pushed open the door of the living room on the second floor.
A bald middle-aged man was sitting on the wooden chair for clients. Before Anne came in, he was talking to Shylock.
At that moment, Detective Holmes suddenly jumped up from the sofa, buttoning up his suit elegantly with his bony fingers, and said mercilessly to his client, "Get out!"
The innocent client didn't seem to understand what was going on. "Mr. Holmes..."
Sherlock interrupted rudely, "Lame! Not interested at all! Get out of my apartment now!
"But Mr. Holmes, you just..."
Sherlock walked over and chased him out. Then, with a bang, he slammed the living room door shut.
Anne stood in the middle of the living room and looked at him. Mr. Holmes coughed and looked a little guilty.
Annie chuckled and slowly walked up to him. She looked up at him.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Anne asked him softly.
"What?" Sherlock lowered his long eyelashes and glanced at her. He decided to play dumb.
Anne wanted to laugh, but she also felt a little sad. She looked at him for a few seconds, then reached under his arms and hugged him gently.
Shylock pursed his lips, raised his arms, and hugged her back.
How nice! She could feel his real body temperature on her cheeks and hear his strong heartbeat in her ears.
This was her Sherlock Holmes. She knew why he was like this, but she never wanted him to compromise, not even for her.
"Don't have those stupid thoughts, Anne." Shylock saw through her again. She had just pretended to be dumb and refused to talk, but now she couldn't help speaking. "I've never been able to tell what's most important to me. I haven't given up anything. I'm just choosing something more valuable. "
Anne paused for a few seconds and said, "If I'm honest, Shylock, I have to say that what you did in the past really worried me." Anne said slowly but firmly, "But I don't want you to make that choice, because to me, your happiness is as important as your safety. Do you understand? "
Shylock didn't answer immediately.
He had said before that no one or anything could separate them. Except death.
However, Shylock had never thought that Anne would save him at all costs, even in the face of death.
Shylock had never been afraid of death, and he had even brushed shoulders with death countless times because he liked excitement and adventure.
But now he was really afraid.
Because there was one person who valued his existence and life too much.
Even though his expression was cold and his words were arrogant, the appearance of the other "Annie" and the things that "she" did had a huge impact on Sherlock.
Previously, he felt that he had clearly felt Annie's strong feelings for him, but it turned out that these feelings that he couldn't express were much stronger than he had imagined.
Anne hugged him and patted his back twice.
"I just need you to promise me that you'll try your best to avoid putting yourself in danger. When you use your brain, which you're most proud of, to solve those problems, I hope you can spare some energy to consider your and John's safety before making any decisions. Can you promise me, Shylock? "
Sherlock closed his eyes as his Adam's apple bobbed up and down.
Anne leaned against his chest and chuckled, patting his back again.
"Mr. Holmes, what you should do now is kiss me and say you promise."
Sherlock pulled her away, held her face in his hands, and kissed her on the lips obediently. Then he repeated, "I promise."
Anne smiled.
Shylock's soft and cool lips fell on her slightly curled lips again, then her cheeks, forehead, nose, eyes …
At first, it was a very pure and gentle kiss, like the morning sun that had just peeked out of the clouds. It was faint and warm, but the sunlight slowly rose above her head and turned into a shining sun. The warm touch became passionate …
Annie's breath paused for a moment, but she didn't stop him. This immediately encouraged Sherlock, and his hot breath blew on her face like it was on fire …
…
That night, Anne only got time to sleep when it was almost dawn. Just as she was about to fall asleep, she suddenly heard Shylock say in her ear, "Marry me, Anne."
Anne closed her eyes and chuckled in the dark.
"Have you lost your memory, Mr. Holmes?" Her soft breath was right beside his ear, and she teased him in a low voice. "You've already proposed, and I've agreed."
"Mm." Shylock stared at her in the dark. "I said, marry me now. Right away. "
After two seconds of silence, Anne opened her eyes and was no longer sleepy.
The dim light by the bed shone over, and there seemed to be a small flame burning in his eyes.
They were so close that Anne could almost see every subtle expression on his face. He was lying beside her, facing her. His messy curly hair swept across her forehead, and he stared at her with unusual focus, as if he was waiting for the most important answer.
"Now?" Anne asked.
"Now."
"Okay." Anne agreed without hesitation.
The two of them lay face to face and didn't speak. Anne closed her eyes again.
After a while, Shylock called her name. "Anne." It was a deep and pleasant voice.
Anne answered without opening her eyes.
The bedroom was quiet again.
After a few minutes, Shylock opened his mouth again and called, "Anne."
Anne finally opened her eyes and saw that he wasn't asleep at all. He was blinking and looking at her. His fair cheeks were pressed against the pillow, and the table lamp behind him shone a beautiful light on his face.
Anne reached out and brushed his hair away from his forehead, revealing his handsome eyebrows. Her slender fingers stroked his brow bone gently.
Detective Holmes lay down obediently like a rare docile cat, allowing its owner to stroke it.
"Sleep, Shylock," Anne said softly.
Shylock's lips finally curved into a beautiful smile. He reached out his long arms and hugged her, closing his eyes in satisfaction.
...
What was happiness?
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