Sherlock Holmes could feel the silence of the house.

He stares out of the window. While using knife, clean the carbon from the pipe. The package of tobacco that was placed next was quickly depleted. He felt the tobacco obtained from the organization's people was different from the conventional tobacco he smoked. If the enjoyment is, yes. But it's not just that ...

... and even though he knew that he couldn't stop himself from smoking ...

Sherlock Holmes laid the cleaned pipe before leaving the room. Mrs. Hudson and Watson are not at home. It seems lately, both of them are going out together often.

"Not ... lately."

The young man smiled awkwardly. To be exact, since the day Watson came in, he told him to stop staying in the attic, keep on doing research like crazy, not knowing the day and night until his eyes hollow. He did not fall asleep to wait for its results by continuously pumping the pipe to help avoid falling asleep.

On that day ... he yelled at Watson to leave. Don't mess with him. And since that day ...

Holmes signed and deflected the bitterness deeply in the chest by picking up a letter addressed to him and read,

'Dear Sherlock,

An acquaintance asked me to find lost husband. I posted the newspaper, but useless. Recently I'm busy with accounting. More importantly, I was too lazy to search for clues. Goes out of the house ...you know ... hate it. Anyway, I want your help, your kid's network might get some clues'

"Haha ..."

Sherlock Holmes chuckled in his throat. Just reading the first paragraph, he knows who sent the letter. There was only one person who has the unique ability to waste. The cause is from his own laziness. Holmes finished reading the letter and thought he would call the Perkins and Viggo twins to help them. Before this letter came to his house, probably for a day or two. Combined with the letter owner saying that he had published the newspaper but didn't get anything, that 'Lost Husband' had probably disappeared for almost a week.

"Hmmm ..."

That's not a good sign. The detective put down the letter languidly, he sighed, leaned his head against the back of the chair, and mumbled to himself.

"When will you back ... Watson?"

………………………………………………………

Today is a sunny day. At the commercial district, a silver-haired man walked alongside a little lady who has a cute face like a noble family. If viewed from an outsider's eyes, they are like lovers. Or was it the young lady who came out to shop with her butler. But people in Baker Street who are familiar with the woman will see it as a mother and son come out to take-home pay. That's because the little lovely lady's true age was completely opposite of her face.

"John, are you still worried about Sherlock?" Mrs. Hudson asked. But when she didn't receive an answer or a reaction showing that the person walking beside heard the question, she continued,

"Sherlock is always like this when he doesn't have a case. He's a person with an overwhelming amount of thought energy. When he can't use that energy to investigate, he often drains it in strange ways. Like before you came here, suddenly he took out a gun in the middle of the night and shot it on the wall of his own room. Or play violin in a terrible sound until some morning. Or dragged a large animal carcass to the room, which made me panic many times. This time it's just smoke a pipe, not sleep, and quietly research some weird things."

Tap Tap

Watson looked down at the little hand that reached over his shoulder. The green eyes reflect Mrs. Hudson's smiling eyes.

"Sherlock is fine. He was so overbearing until his body was used to it. When the employer comes to ask for help, he will back to himself. When that time helped him a lot, alright."

Watson said nothing. Just give a slight nod to the owner of the house. But there are things he cannot say. The tobacco was obtained from Free Man Hand. Watson doesn't trust that package. Things that Free Man hands do are not normal. He wondered if Holmes's smoking too much would cause Holmes's emotional change.

‘Shut up, Watson! Cut it off. What am I going to be, or what will I do? It's about me. Get out… don't mess with me.’

Since Sherlock Holmes brought him to this world. Having lived together as a 'partner' that day, Holmes was upset and shouted at him for the first time.

'Sorry ... I'm sorry, Watson, I ... didn't mean to ...'

Watson looked at Holmes for apologizing to him. Holmes's expression that day, even though there is no wound or pain in any place, his expression was like a human expression in pain. Watson doesn't understand human emotions. But if he has made a mistake or an outrageous act that makes Holmes angry.

'I apologize for interfering. Holmes, humans probably have more reasons than dolls like me.'

It should be him who apologized. But after apologizing, Holmes's expression looked even more painful. Watson doesn't understand human beings. Human emotion is something a doll like him doesn't have. When trying to ponder what he doesn't have, Mrs. Hudson saw him sit space out; she often invites him to go out together to buy things or run errands.

Today is the same ...

"We stopped by this bank first. John sat there and waited a moment."

Watson nodded and walked to the seat near the exit door. As for Mrs. Hudson, walking in line.

Today, there aren't many people in the bank. Watson sat still and saw a man in a hat, wearing a long scarf, just finished his business. The man looked down at the paper stack, walked over, counting the money in a very busy manner. While he will put the money into his pocket, the coins fell from the hands, scattered across the floor.

Twopence coins rolled towards Watson. So, he bent down to collect the coins and handed them over. The man in the hat reached out to pick up, saying thank you.

"Thank ..."

The black eyes beneath the brim of the hat flashed, looking at Watson in surprise.

Suddenly, the bank door was stuck open. Three mask people with guns appear, blocking the doorway. Simultaneously, among the customers who line up shooting the gun into the sky.

Bang! Bang!

"This is a stick-up! Everyone, get down!"