Sherlock Holmes

When Sherlock opened his eyes again, it was already two days later.

He felt a pain in his head, similar to the feeling of drowsiness after a hangover, and his whole body felt like it was falling apart. The last scene in his memory was of him facing the huge star-like eyeball in the sky.

After that it was gone.

He passed out, and as for that humble voice, it naturally became a dark area in his memory, leaving no trace at all.

He shook his head and judged from the overwhelming feeling of hunger in his stomach that he had not eaten for at least 48 hours. He stood up and went to the window. He saw that it was noon outside, and the sunlight rarely penetrated through the fog. In Baker, There are some mottled lights and shadows on the street.

Very good, at least this way I can be sure that I am not in a dream.

He put his head close to the tap water pipe and drank for a while before he felt more comfortable. Then he opened the cupboard to see if the leftovers from the previous days had not gone bad.

But just as he reached for the cupboard.

"kindness?"

Sherlock was stunned for a moment.

Because he saw a trace of brilliance flowing around the cabinet, which was as colorful as gasoline melting into water, but it was fleeting.

Although he couldn't explain it, the first second he saw this weird and colorful color, he was sure that this was the trace of his contracted worm crawling in the dream!

"What's going on? Are the areas I crawled through in the dream reflected in reality?!"

He quickly turned his attention to other parts of the room. Sure enough, those places that had been erased in the dream were all emitting a faint light. Moreover, during the period of his coma, the worm was obviously not idle. All the seals in the entire room have been wiped clean.

This naturally includes doors

Sherlock swallowed. Although there didn't seem to be any big changes in his expression, all the muscles in his body subconsciously tightened.

The seal on the door was broken.

In other words, as long as he enters the dreamland now, he can open the door and walk out of the room that has imprisoned him for thirty years.

It is not an intrusion after breaking the window, nor is it a barbaric and unreasonable attack on the wall.

But through a door that can be opened, generous and upright

An unknown world is beckoning to me! ! ! !

Sherlock's body began to tremble slightly, and every fold of his cerebral cortex began to shout with excitement.

But the detective took a deep breath at this juncture.

Then he calmly opened the cupboard, took out a tortilla left over from the previous day and smelled it to make sure it was not bad. Then he turned on the stove, which had not been used much, and prepared to heat it up.

"Don't be anxious, don't be anxious."

He carefully calmed his almost boiling thirst for knowledge.

Opening that door is easy, but what happens after you open it?

Confront the demons on the streets?

Obviously, as a human being, if he is seen, those demons will definitely pounce on him crazily and chew him until no bones are left.

Sherlock was not stupid. Although the old priest judged that his dream was some kind of neurasthenia or some other problem, he knew very well that this was definitely an 'awakening dream'.

It's just that the shape of dreams is a little special.

For now, he doesn't know whether this 'specialness' is good or bad.

What’s more, I don’t know what will happen to me after I die in my dream.

Will he wake up in reality?

Or will he just die and his body in reality will become a corpse?

He only knows that he is absolutely unable to resist this temptation, and he will eventually open the door. This desire to explore unknown areas is like the most cruel drug addiction, which will erode him all the time. , no matter how much you struggle, no matter how much you deceive yourself and others, it will not help.

So, he needs to make some plan of action.

I saw him slowly grabbing the hot tortilla, and then started eating. Silently and seriously, he crushed it bit by bit with his teeth, swallowed it into his stomach, and then drank enough water.

During this period, his mind was constantly replaying the scene he saw while standing in front of the window, what types of wandering demons were there, the conditions around the streets, which shadows could hide dangers, and what facilities could be used to Run away, etc.

After a full fifteen minutes, he finally formulated for himself a course of action that, although it could not be said to be 100% safe, was definitely the safest course of action possible at this stage.

After that, he returned to the sofa, found a comfortable position to lie down, and slowly closed his eyes.

It is estimated that his brain was also looking forward to the moment when he opened the door, so he fell asleep very quickly this time.

In the dream, Sherlock woke up, and then he immediately turned his attention to the door of the room.

Sure enough, the white on the door has completely faded.

So he stood up, walked to the door, put his hand on the door handle, and turned it gently.

The next second, the surging desire to explore in his heart finally broke out of the shackles. He barely gave him a chance to breathe out the breath in his chest before he yanked the door open! !

In an instant, the scorching wind blew on Sherlock's body with the wind and sand that had been filled for countless years, and the strong smell of sulfur and blood enveloped the surroundings.

After thirty years, Sherlock can finally get out of this prison.

He raised his feet and walked into the wind and sand. Just like the real world, there was a staircase leading to the first floor outside the door, and the layout was the same, except that the room where Mrs. Hudson originally lived had been eroded by the wind and sand. There was an entire wall, and it was clear that there was no one inside.

In fact, in this entire world, apart from countless demons, there is probably only one Sherlock.

He walked down step by step, listening to the almost shattering creak of the stairs under his feet.

Slowly stepped into the boiling Baker Street.

And at this moment, there was finally no obstruction to his sight, and he could look around this strange world freely.

An idea that had been born in my heart for a long time came to my mind uncontrollably.

"Isn't this fucking hell?"