Contrary to the usual cold climate in London, Hong Kong was hot and humid in summer. People became irritability intolerable because of the annoying weather. At the end of the summer holidays, Sherlock no longer needed to stay in that damn house which he did not want to stay one more minutes. He did not want to see his big brother Mycroft 's face again.
Mycroft, nasty Mycroft. Always so well-dressed and polite, made you think that he might be a saint who would never make mistakes. All times business-ridden, as if missing him the world will stop running - maybe this was true.
Mycroft's hardworking attitude might have benefited many people in the world, but not his brother Sherlock. The Holmes family had an aristocratic and gentry background, but while came to Mycroft's generation, it had long been declined. An early dead father and a neurasthenic mother made Mycroft assumed the responsibility of taking care and educating Sherlock. But Mycroft's political talent was soon appreciated by the British government that entrusted him with the task, from a small civil service jumped into a diplomat, was sent to different places for the government to resolve disputes. Sherlock traveled with his brother since he was a little child, running across most of the earth, but never staying in the same place for more than a year. Frequently transferred from one school to another, Sherlock could not find any sense of belonging no matter where. Also because of his eccentric character, Sherlock could not make any friends. He just felt himself floating like a duckweed with the water, no roots and insignificant.
Busy Mycroft was diligent and almighty, working all day long. Although lived with him, Sherlock might not see him once in a day. As clever as Sherlock, he learned to be independent early on, learned to solve his own problems, because his guardian is always absent when he needed him. He also thought his precocious would earn a little appreciation from his brother. But when his brother appeared, he never showed a little friendly attitude, always only severely criticized and reprimanded, as if Sherlock was an idiot. No matter how perfect Sherlock performed, in his sage brother's eyes, those were just kindergarten student's nonsense. He just could not do anything to catch up with Mycroft's standards.
Sherlock gave up to please his only brother a long time ago. On the contrary, he did anything Mycroft banned, the more Mycroft did not want him to do the more he wanted to do it. Mycroft was completely enraged and thought himself incapacitated to teach Sherlock anymore. He sent Sherlock to the most stringent boarding school, hoping that the strict discipline would tame the unruly Mustang.
Sherlock yearned for free air, the boarding school was not his cup of tea. Nevertheless, it was still better than staying in the same room with Mycroft and eating at the same table with him. So when the hot and swaggering summer holidays ended, embarking on a trip back to school, Sherlock had a sigh of relief that he could finally bid farewell to Mycroft. At the moment, he was wearing a tailor-made white shirt, dark gray trousers, black shoes, on the ferry to the schoolhouse, leaning on the railing, one foot on the iron branch, overlooking the distance, did not know a pair of blue eyes from behind was staring at him.
It was a car ferry. Sherlock stepped out of a crowded minibus crammed full of passengers. Not far behind, parked with a black car, the door opened, a young officer wearing uniforms came down.
"British?" A long absence of the British accent.
Sherlock turned around and found a blonde, blue-eyed young officer with a sunny smile was looking at him with interest.
Sherlock just gave an indifference sound and looked back to the water, as if the conversation is boring.
"Sorry, I am so excited to meet my fellow countrymen here, perhaps make you feel presumptuous." The officer smiled a little shyly, somewhat less in tune with his majestic uniform. He even seemed a little bit lovely childish when he smiled. "Especially young people like you are very rare. Most British come here to work, about business or political, all are wily old birds, seem so nasty."
Sherlock glancing at him thinking of Mycroft, lazy tone casually accosted, "Yes, wily old birds are nasty."
"The Queen's English, Londoner? Your voice is very nice." The smiling officer leaned over the railing, blowing the sea breeze with Sherlock and glancing at his school uniform. "St Stephen's College, you study in the boarding school at Stanley."
Sherlock stared at the distance, mouth like a machine gun when answered him, "You arrived here about a year ago, stationed in the Victoria barracks, is a military doctor. You just went to the Kowloon Peninsula for the local dignitaries visit. It was not your job, but by political reasons, the task was pressured down by your superior, and the patient was extremely troublesome, that's why you are now full of grievances." Just glanced at the officer's expression, Sherlock satirically smirked and looked away.
"That's..." The officer could not find a word but stared at Sherlock. "Amazing!"
Sherlock sneered and snorted.
"How do you know?" The officer asked.
"By deduction."
"Deduction like a detective investigating cases?" The officer perplexed, he paused and held out his hand. "I forgot to introduce myself, John Watson, although the rest of information you are just right guessed."
Sherlock looked at his extended hand a little bit surprised, hesitated for a while before shaking. "Sherlock Holmes. I never guess, I deduce."
John's hand was strong and warm, he lingering touched Sherlock's hand for a moment before letting go and then smiled - a smile with hunting confidence, and for the first time made people feeling dangerous of a soldier. "Could you let me send you back to school? I just have a feeling that you are not suitable for public transport. God, your look like a noble."
" Convenient for you?"
"As you said, I am now full of grievances, just want to go for a ride. I hope you could come with me."
Sherlock felt inexplicable - he was never easy to make friends or to be said that he did not have friends - but John was a total stranger who tried to talk to him, and Sherlock did not feel disgusted with it.
The ferry berthed, Sherlock left with John. John kindly bought some street snacks for Sherlock - Sherlock had never eaten these things - but he took the snacks, casually bit a few mouthfuls.
He even followed John's steps into his car. Car speeding on the highway, all of a sudden they did not know what to say, had to let a little embarrassment of silence spread.
"You like deduction?" John was curious about Sherlock.
"Right." Sherlock just looked out the window.
"How to deduce?"
"You are wearing a British army uniform, obviously stationed here in the military. The destination of the ferry is Hong Kong Island, stationed Victoria barracks as a matter of course. But you have the smell of disinfectants, your clothes despite washed still have residual iodine and red syrup splashed off the old stains, so you are a military doctor. " Sherlock pointed to the rescue package in the car. "This can also be corroborated. British troops generally stationed in the form of a three-year shift in Hong Kong, you are already familiar with things here, so it is not new. But you are still not used to the personnel style here, so it is not too long. If you leave soon, the plight of this place will not be too much in mind. But you are full of grievances, should also stay here for some time. You probably came about a year."
"Brilliant!"
Sherlock eyed John as if he was not accustomed to accepting appreciation. "You only serve the military, and now is not during a war, there is no special task, you should remain in the barracks. But you are wearing uniforms in the official car, with medical supplies, should be to visit. Based on the local medicine system is relatively backward, in accordance with my understanding of the political operation of the British government, you are invited out for the local important people is the most probably. The so-called important people, the British government has an interest, nothing more than the local dignitaries."
John was so excited with his eyes wide opened, could not help but applauded. "It's amazing! Your observation is awesome! Are you going to be a detective after graduated? I need to be your first client!"
Sherlock just not used to it. "You... seem to be very happy. Don't you think you're offended? Don't want to shut me up?"
"Why?"
"I saw you at a glance and can tell your life out. Don't you think I am a horrible freak?"
"It's amazing! Such a wonderful explanation by your voice, I would like to hear more." John's eyes were sincere.
Sherlock suddenly felt a little bit hot, dared not look at John, turned around and looked out the window.
Road scenery along the way back. John kept chatting with Sherlock, like why he knew the political operation of the British government, what his brother was doing here, and how was their relationship and so on. Sherlock just answered casually, but it was almost the first time he had ever said so much to a man who had just met.
Chatting was disconnected into silence when the car suddenly bumped a bit in a narrow and steep road, the two were thrown while exclaiming together, then their hands both fell on the seat. With an unexpectedly rapid heartbeat, Sherlock had a dizzy feeling - he tried to focus on the window and found a pair of hot gazes staring at himself from behind by the glass reflection. Sherlock felt John's hand moving closer on the seat, his little finger stuck to his, waiting for a while, his two fingers swept the back of Sherlock's hand, lingering the gap between his last two fingers, swept into the deepest, and then slowly gently penetrated into it, as if implying another body part, doing a very taboo behavior. Sherlock did not move, just looked at the window outside.
John turned his head away and looked out the other side window, but his hand fumbled Sherlock's hand a few times then tentatively covered it, held Sherlock's hand and stroked it softly with his thumb. Sherlock gently held back.
John was still taking action. He spread his palm, fingers flirt into Sherlock's fingers, so that their fingers intertwined closely, full of sexually suggestive kneading. Sherlock swallowed, closed his eyes, listened to the sounds of the outside environment in the high-speed traveling.
The car had been driven forward, the scene of the road constantly swirling. No one spoke for a long time.
When Sherlock's chest still undulating and panting, the car came to a halt - at the front of the school dormitory.
John's hand hurriedly retreated from Sherlock's thigh, leaving only the crumpled mark on his school trousers. Sherlock lightened, trying to calm his own breath of urgency, panicking not know where to put his hands. John behaved like a veteran, calm looking, hands gracefully folded up on the cocked legs, as if nothing had happened.
The driver took Sherlock's luggage and opened the door for him. Sherlock returned to the normal state of indifference, took his suitcase, looked back to John. John's eyes were with attachment and reluctance, his mouth slightly sheeted but could not find a word.
"Bye." Sherlock's voice did not reveal the slightest emotion. He turned to the dormitory doorway, did not turn around ever again.
John across the window looked at the boy he just met, whose back gradually drifting away. His heart had a sense of loss, did not know if they have a chance to meet again.