Sherlock Holmes

Sherlock remained motionless, standing at the door like a statue.

There was nothing strange inside the door, just a fairly clean rental apartment. The setting sun just happened to shine in through the window, making the room seem warmer than usual.

A sparse and ordinary scene.

Therefore, the agent couldn't understand what was going on with the customers around him; it was even more difficult to imagine how shocked Sherlock was by the scene in front of him!

Even Sherlock himself did not expect that the most shocking moment in his thirty years of life from birth to now would be displayed in front of him in this way.

He forcibly suppressed the trembling of his body and walked into the room. His eyes fell on the window facing the door. Through the glass, he could see most of Baker Street.

Then he turned his head slightly and glanced at the familiar carpet, the familiar tea table, the walls without much decoration, and the spider webs in the corners of the ceiling.

Baker Street - 221 - B.

Sherlock has definitely never been to this room, but he is so familiar with everything here. He can even pick up the cup hanging on the kitchen with his eyes closed.

It's been almost thirty years.

He finally knew that the pattern on the cup was light gold.

There is also the light brown carpet, the unevenly painted walls, the wooden tea table, and the light yellow cloth on the tea table.

Everything finally has color! ! !

That's right, this room is actually the place where Sherlock has been trapped in his dreams since he was a child!

How is this going?

The space in my dream is actually a real place in this world?

But that's not right. If I started having that strange dream when I was very young, then this room couldn't have looked like this decades ago; in fact, this apartment probably hadn't even been built when I was a child. Bar.

Or is it that the room in his dream had been fixed at this moment, the moment he opened the door, decades ago?

But what does this mean?

Countless questions began to pop up in Sherlock's mind. However, in the past thirty years, he had thought about this room countless times, but he never got any results. So at this moment, his question There is certainly no answer.

"Sir, what do you think of this room?" the staff behind him asked tentatively.

"I'm very satisfied and can pay the deposit now."

Sherlock said without thinking.

Although he didn't know what this room had to do with him, he definitely wanted to live here. In fact, he was already planning to catch a few murderers in a few days, save some money, and buy this room directly. .

When the staff member of the mutual aid association heard this, he was naturally overjoyed and signed a contract with Sherlock directly.

For a rented apartment like this, the landlord certainly cannot wait at home every day for tenants to come to the door, so he usually leaves it all to the agency; in the end, he only needs to collect the rent and deduct a certain commission.

Everything went smoothly after that. Since all the rent was paid on the same day, people from the mutual aid company also helped Sherlock move the gift there for free.

At ten o'clock in the night, everything settled.

Sherlock looked at his new home and the large red patent leather sofa in the middle hall, and he really didn't know what kind of expression he should put on his face.

He looked at all the familiar scenes around him, and then opened the two doors on both sides of the living room that could never be moved in dreams; behind the doors were two bedrooms, equipped with beds and wardrobes, and another observation After groping and finally finding that there was nothing abnormal, he had no choice but to sit back on the sofa, cross his fingers under his chin, and fall into some kind of meditation.

Did you just live in the room in your dream?

So sudden and effortless?

This kind of thinking did not take him too much time, because he knew that he could not think of anything, so he lay down and let himself sink into the sponge package in his most accustomed position.

And slowly closed his eyes.

He has been able to control his sleep since he was very young. As long as his mind is empty and he doesn't think about it, he can grasp the subtle feeling of falling.

Thirty seconds later.

In that white world, Sherlock opened his eyes.

But this time, he found that he was still lying on the leather sofa, with his posture almost unchanged.

It's as if the color of everything around you is wiped out as soon as you close your eyes or open them. It's just that there are a few more pieces of luggage in the dream world at this moment, which are the ones that Sherlock moved in today.

"So, changes in reality can affect dreams?"

He stroked the sofa under him, feeling the hard texture that seemed to be sealed in time. He muttered to himself, then raised his head and looked at the door of the apartment, then turned around and looked at the bedrooms on both sides. Door.

Before falling asleep, he opened all the doors, trying to see if these doors would also be opened in the dream.

Unfortunately, all doors are still closed.

Sherlock got up and went to a door and pushed it. Sure enough, everything was still as it always was in the dream, motionless.

"It's just that the new additions will appear, but the door will not open. In other words, anything that wants to change the structure of the room itself will not be accepted by the dream, right?

So, if I hammer a hole in the wall in reality, or use a chair to block the door that is not closed, and return to the dream, all of this will not happen? "

Sherlock hesitated, preparing to experiment a few more times to find out how many things were connected between dreams and reality.

Next, he came to the window again. His sight was still unable to penetrate the glass and could only stay on the white seal-like surface.

If this room is the apartment at No. 221B Baker Street in the dream, then...could it be that Baker Street is on the other side of the window?

So if we think about it further afield, will there still be the Lower Town, the Thames, the City of London, and the whole world in the dream?

This sudden thought made Sherlock slightly startled.

He remembered the old priest's discussion of awakening dreams

So, did I dream of a world? ? ? ?

He thought in shock, but the next second, he smiled helplessly.

No matter what kind of world is outside, it is impossible for him to see it. After all, the facilities in this room are completely immovable, all the doors cannot be opened, and it is impossible for him to get out.

So what kind of world is outside seems to have nothing to do with me.

Just thinking about it.

sudden!

Sherlock's eyes glanced at a corner of the room.

Then, with great confusion, he saw his contracted demon, that little useless insect, squirming along the corner of the wall.

Seems very happy.

"Why did this guy appear here???" Sherlock tilted his head in confusion: "I didn't summon it!"