【原创】Swapped/彼此彼此

Prologue
It was a beautiful Tuesday morning.
Still cold though, the sunshine was so brilliant that it seemed to have a chance to fetch the flowers out. A dewdrop couldn’t stand the sunlight anymore and dripped from the branch, landing on a pedestrian’s neck. The eating-while-walking man got chilled so he trembled to drop a biscuit. A wandering dove came at once and flew away with a big piece, yet leaking No.2. A painter by the river bank went furious as his two-day work was ruined by such a mishap. As the subject to the artist, the Thames was flowing happily through London as usual. The city woke up to the sound of life and a brand new day had begun.
Greg Lestrade was lying awake in bad yet with eyes closed. He was so at ease now. As a detective inspector of Scotland Yard, for the past three weeks he had been working day in, day out on a felony, too busy to take a moment off. Finally the case was closed yesterday and last night there was a celebration, as the Chief Superintendent offered a one-day holiday to the divisions working on the case generously. Ah last night, what a party! Greg recalled the hilarious scenes, in which everyone was not themselves after two shots.
“A drinking duel was so not my thing!” he thought, “Lucky me, no headache.” Making a move comfortably on the sheet, Greg opened his eyes. Then he blinked.
Where was this place? Definitely not the room he lived in every day. The tall room-height, the pretty wall-paper, and even the delicate oil painting which he had no idea but must be expensive! Greg dug into his memories and found the answer that it should be Dimmock’s.
“No wonder Anderson insists that guy was born with a silver spoon in his mouth!” Greg sighed by heart and decided to get up, resisting the attempt to compare here with his place because that would make it a slum. He found happily that this bedroom was equipped with a lavatory, since he had a strong feeling to be lost if he looked for a bathroom in the building.
“There may be a page knowing the way,” Greg wondered randomly when entering the lavatory. The very next second there came a sharp scream. At the same second, a page making breakfast downstairs slipped his hand and spilled the tea.
Mycroft Holmes was in confusion.
Just twenty minutes ago he woke up, but to find himself in a studio he had never been before. After a quick glance at the surrounding, the first thought came to him was that this was a trap. However, on second thought he sensed that it might not be the case. Who would be doltish enough to trap another person in a room with a land line and a computer, which were apparently available? Not to mention him, a master of such things. Therefore the No.1 task was to keep calm.
Once relaxed, Mycroft was in a mood for a good survey. A laundry basket at the bathroom door was filled up with unwashed clothes, a gray sock hung at the edge. An open kitchen wasn’t much used by the look of it and he wondered if the refrigerator had food, as his stomach was churning because of hungry. Before Mycroft finished spying the apartment, a major headache however hit, and ouch!
“I shan’t have yelled at Mrs. Hudson. Consequence!” He shook his head slightly and got on his feet for a glass of water. Then he accidentally looked into the surface of the refrigerator door and got frozen at once. An influx of ideas jammed Mycroft’s brain, such as “I know this face”, “Call Anthea” and “Mrs. Hudson, please forgive me”!
“…how Jupiter and Venus and the moon appeared together, a sky map of two bright planets and an even more eye-catching moon. Astronomers called this cosmic arrangement a triple conjunction.”
The video came to an end leaving a happy face of the newscaster. The light beam from the projector to the screen was the only light source in the room, the rest of which was in darkness and complete silence.
‘So you believe,’ someone began in an obscure tongue, before someone died of suffocation with the heavy air. ‘This conjunction thing was the reason for our…our…’
‘Our body-swap,’ another voice helped fill in the rest.

Act I Alignment in Sky vs. Chaos on Earth
Monsieur Harry: Post hoc ergo propter hoc.
Detective Inspector Dimmock was utterly off. This morning he was scared awoken by a phone call instead of waking up naturally as planned. A young and polite voice told him to achieve a certain location as soon and confidential as possible. Dimmock got fully awake as he heard the address. He knew that place! That neighborhood was for those low-key big shots. Dimmock was welcomed by a man who sounded like the voice on the phone as soon as he reached there. Then he saw the people, and the scene.
It was a conference room of a large size, a long table located in the middle. An elder man was at one end while another several persons sat along both sides of the table. Two he knew yet two not. The young man who led his way bowed to them, and then stood quietly behind the elder man, who smiled and said, ‘Inspector, please take a seat. We’d best get down to business since we’re all here.’
Dimmock didn’t even get a chance to wonder and the lights were off. “Well just ask Sally later,” he reckoned.
Now the video was over, and a conclusion obtained. Dimmock was having trouble swallowing what he’d just learned. D.I. Lestrade and the gentleman over there had switched bodies because of some astronomical phenomenon! Dimmock turned to Sally to make sure he wasn’t actually hallucinated, and then got ensured by being pinched by her. Sally Donovan, Sergeant of Lestrade’s division, cast him a serious look and then introduced people to Dimmock. Monsieur Harry was the elder man, the gentleman there was supposed to be Mycroft Holmes, Sherlock’s brother, and the lady taking notes was Anthea, Mr. Holmes’ assistant.
“Another Holmes!” Dimmock groaned secretly.
‘The thing is as so. No one predicted such a switch or could cease it now. To our knowledge it’s supposed to be fixed naturally when the time warp effect is over. You saw the Captain and the old Hopi lady, still alive and fine,’ said Monsieur Harry to them all, especially the very two concerned.
‘Sir, excuse me? Is it proper for me to ask when we shall expect this effect to be over?’ asked Anthea, and Greg-as-Mycroft nodded quickly to appreciate her question. Mycroft-as-Greg didn’t act as positively but looked at Monsieur Harry at once, too.
‘Of course. The warp was slowly snapping back to repair itself naturally last time, taking a couple of days. Well, kind of different for our occasion， as this time was caused by the astronomical phenomenon. So we assume it will be ended by Mother Nature as well. Don’t panic boys, let me finish here first.’ Monsieur Harry pacified them and continued. ‘The alignment of Venus and Jupiter and Moon took place three days ago. According to experts when Venus meets Jupiter this phenomenon is done, which will be the fifteenth of March.’
The air in the room suddenly became relaxed. Not tomorrow though, it was still good to have a hopefully set date. Greg beamed up to Sally and Dimmock while the two

felt odd to see such a familiar smile on a stranger’s face. Anthea noted the date in her Blackberry and looked at Monsieur Harry again as he was about to say something more.
‘Half a month is neither long nor short. Yet the occurrence of body-swap is indubitably a top secret for the society and the nation, so everyone in this room don’t tell any soul. May I count on you gentlemen to fulfill each other’s position as though nothing ever happened?’ demonstrated Monsieur Harry casually but the rest could tell the seriousness. ‘In the following weeks I’ll try to rearrange some events and give D.I. Lestrade a lighter schedule. Anthea is ready to help.’
‘My pleasure, Inspector!’ Anthea smiled, making Greg feel quite assured. ‘You may ask Billy for help in case of need after work,’ Anthea carried on, pointing at the young man who hadn’t said a word since the meeting started. Greg was perfectly astonished by the fact that the page boy turned out to be a hidden master.
‘Mycroft, I bet you know the business. Sergeant Donovan is in your team, very reliable. And Inspector Dimmock,’ said Monsieur Harry kindly, ‘I believe you will do your part in this special period of time.’
Dimmock was made to feel important at once and nodded in a serious attitude whereas Sally still looked concerned. ‘Pardon me, M’sieur. I was wondering if I was allowed to ask something about the video,’ said Sally in a slow manner, feeling like she was looking for the proper vocabulary. ‘How were we able to get those real details from Area 51, since such things were of extreme confidentiality? I mean, are we sure what we’ve just seen is not a tale?’
Greg and Dimmock laid their eyes on Monsieur Harry promptly along with Sally’s while Mycroft looked at her appreciatively. Surprised though, the mister soon found a clever way to convince them. ‘Good question, Sergeant. Well as you know, the American happened to own us one and they surely hate owning others.’
Pretending to have got the underlying message completely, yet the three persons staring were bellowing wildly by heart in the same breath, “No, I don’t know!”
‘Sir, shall we inform the Chief Superintendent of Scotland Yard as Mr. Holmes is there?’ asked Anthea.
‘Ehh…I’d rather have Tobias out of this. The fewer the people involved, the safer the secret kept.’
‘Sorry to interrupt, Sir. What about the other Mr. Holmes?’ questioned Dimmock.
‘Well,’ said the mister in reply slowly. ‘I don’t quite think Sherlock’s going to understand the entire case.’ There was a clear hesitation in his word making them think. Then most of them got it immediately, except the one who delivered the question.
‘Oy, did I miss something?’ asked Dimmock under his breath.
‘You’re a fan of Sherlock, aren’t you?’ whispered Sally.
‘Of course I am.’
‘Read Dr. Watson’s blog then!’
‘Sir, the time,’ Billy the page came one step forward to remind Monsieur Harry with courtesy.
‘Looks like we’re on the same page!’ Monsieur Harry stood up, so did the others. As soon as he was about leave the room, he faced them with his smiling face again. ‘Let’s not be known.’

Act II Wise Move vs. Suffering in Skin
Billy: Do your best but act accordingly.
Everyone started to make their moves when they finished a well-prepared meal. Anthea rushed out for some must-be-done jobs after a short talk with her boss. Mycroft insisted not to have personal protection or service since he was D.I. Lestrade now. The one-day holiday permitted Sally and Dimmock to help Mycroft get familiar with Scotland Yard and they went back to Greg’s place. Two Yarders prepared themselves to face someone that was probably difficult to get along with, “For Christ’s sake, he’s a Holmes!” One of such was more than enough.
Nevertheless they got stunned! Mycroft managed to memorize names and occupations easily, smooth the details for present cases neatly, and crack two pending-for-months crimes without a hitch! All of these didn’t surprise them much however, “Please, he’s a Holmes!”
It was the positive attitude Mycroft stood in.
Mycroft consulted their opinions when they went through the documents.
Mycroft didn’t tease any work done in the Yard but spoke highly of their diligence.
Mycroft remained polite and considerate at the moment he brought the cases to their conclusions.
Mycroft even treated them gorgeous afternoon tea during the break and told them ‘AEP’ in the following weeks.
Sally and Dimmock had a wrong impression that the so-called body-swap at all had never happened and the spirit beneath this figure was still Greg Lestrade! Well, just brighter. Fine, better off!
“Thank goodness, Greg! You opted for this one to switch. What luck we’ve got!” The two prayed thankfully.
It turned out that Greg was the only one that was free, sitting there by himself and wondering what to do when everyone had things to take care of. He beamed at Billy and the page smiled him back. They smiled back and forth a couple of times and Greg began to feel awkward. Finally he was saved from the awkwardness by the courtesy suggestion offered by Billy that he should have a good look at the building to know places. “I’m living here after all.” Greg thought so when Billy was leading his way.
Lounge, kitchen, study, drawing room and reading room. They took a tour in this handsome mansion, and a stronger and stronger feeling was growing on Greg that his own studio was a slum indeed. The media room interested him a lot whereas the painting on the wall killed his passion of a good movie. He didn’t have to know the masterpiece of Munch, but the screaming face reminded him vividly of his own performance this morning.
“I was ‘AAARRRGGGHHH’, like a little girl!” Greg glanced rapidly at Billy to check the picture didn’t ring him a bell.
‘Is there a gym or whatever in this house?’ asked Greg. Unexpectedly, he saw Billy’s look turning subtly wired so he added in no time. ‘Is there too much trouble?’
‘None at all, Sir. This way, please.’ Billy was trying industriously to recall where the gym shoes were, if there was

a pair, while showing Greg the way. ‘Sir, are you sure to do exercise now? You’ve just got lunch.’
‘Ah never mind. It’s been an hour. I do some sports every day when I’m—was—me.’
‘I’m sorry to say so, but Mr. Holmes himself is no actual sports sort.’
‘Don’t worry. I won’t do much. It’s the last thing you want to see your lord puts on real pounds after two weeks, isn’t it?’ Greg gave Billy a big grin and entered the gym. Billy however, standing at the door, took a deep breath. “God bless you, Master!”
God might take a nap and miss Billy’s pray. Greg woke up next morning, sour all over the body. The page looked at him with a clear I-told-you look and handed him the pain relieving cream. ‘Rome wasn’t built in one day, Sir. How about eating less?’
‘Not gonna happen,’ said Greg, massaging the shanks hard. ‘You feed me too well for me to keep fit.’
‘Maybe some mild practices?’ offered Billy, fighting a weak desire to speak ‘not your fitness’ out.
‘Such as?’
‘Yoga!’
‘Jeez, just push-ups and sit-ups! Then you became useless.’ Greg half shouted at the phone. Mr. Holmes’ mobile as well as the land line in this house, according to Billy, was secure enough for them to feel free to contact in these days.
‘Please don’t take me for my brother, Inspector. He’s good in all manner of sports. I prefer muse,’ answered Mycroft, feeling like smiling. ‘Sounds you’re having your time in my house.’
‘Pretty much. Anthea left me dozens of homework. I’m reading them with great respect.’
‘Hoping you enjoy yourself!’
‘Question, am I allowed to know those things? They’re classified, aren’t they?’ asked Greg while he was neatening the papers.
‘Yes they are, and you’re a man to trust,’ said Mycroft certainly. ‘By the way Greg, why not call your mobile? Check the time.’
‘It’s using up minutes this month. Hold on, Greg? Do I know you?’
‘Well I suppose we’re on a first-name basis, since now we’re in the same boat and I take stock in you. Besides, you’re calling me “useless”.’
‘Fine, me now! Dare you be late, Mycroft!’

Act III Heavy-handed vs. Soft-hearted
Dimmock: One more step you’re a dead man！
The new Mr. Holmes went through everything safe and sound even though the original wisdom went along with the old master. Monsieur Harry had removed as many items as possible off Greg’s agenda to the best of his ability, and Anthea made her effort to fulfill the rest. Therefore it was not necessary for Greg to make essential decisions, or get involved in real events. All he had to do was learn as much as he could to meet indispensable situations.
“God bless them!” Greg felt grateful, heart and soul. Instead of being full of confusion mingled with fears initially, he was willing to cooperate as he’d enriched himself so much these days. For the first time in his life Greg had a chance to reach all sorts of top secrets, high and tense. The two Godsends would like to help him comprehend files and occasions as long as they were available. For example now.
‘Anthea, is it a good time? Would you make an appointment with M’sieur Harry at his convenience, please?’ said Greg, trying to play it cool. ‘Just an old case, no big deal. Is he? No you don’t have to. Yea, thanks.’
The former somebody, Mycroft, was quite into being Greg. For example now.
Commonwealth Day was on the way and there was an annual colloquium organized by Scotland Yard, as an off-the-record rule. Being seasoned Yarders, Inspectors Lestrade and Dimmock were giving presentations and joining the following discussion, hosted by Sergeant Donavan. ‘You are the proud of our Yard, so show them the guts and power!’ according to the Chief Superintendent.
Sitting sedately in the front, Mycroft looked at the future members of police force with a big smile, while Dimmock was murmuring, ‘Bare your teeth! ’Tis too fake!’ That peculiar tight-lipped smile, to Dimmock, looked almost pained on Greg’s kind face, too calculating to have much warmth.
The audiences were of great passion about everything they would possibly meet in their future days. Commends came along with comments, and the three didn’t let them down and gave proper but vivid feedbacks.
Everything went well, and then.
‘Ma’am, may I?’ asked a student-like boy and Sally let him. ‘D.I. Lestrade, they say you’re the best among the all and you’ve got the highest rank in solving cases. No offense, Inspector!’ People laughed when Dimmock shrugged. ‘Is it because Sherlock Holmes is a close friend of yours and doing favors?’
Sally almost swallowed water. Sherlock was no secret as his name and John’s had been on papers and websites. She could reckon how Greg would reply this one, while the here-and-now mister wasn’t him! She somewhat felt nervous, as did Dimmock.
‘I’d say yes and no. Yes, Sherlock is my friend and gives contributions. That young gentleman, beyond question, has a style.’ Mycroft kept his smile and nodded to Sally and Dimmock, as a hint that he knew how to response, while the Yarders, inexplicably, found themselves were in tune with

Mycroft’s plan. ‘No, for two. Sherlock is not my personal friend. We all know him.’
‘Exactly! He gave me a hand once. To be honest with you guys, I idolize Mr. Holmes greatly. Nevertheless, I’ll never simply sit there to wait for him to do works for me.’
‘The other reason is to strive to work as a group. Antique, is it? I can tell from your faces.’ Mycroft carried on, ‘Heroism is terrific and understandable. Have you yet ever considered what heroes are? If you deem a hero is equal to do everything solo, sorry but you’re mistaken.’
‘Don’t just laugh off the stories you’ve heard, taking them as adventure movies, or victories for granted,’ Dimmock took it over. ‘One’s brave enough to charge in the front because he knows who’s standing behind. Trusting our faithful friends, we rely on them and expose our backs to them for their solid backups.’
‘Keep in mind to be prepared and alert,’ said Sally. ‘Before contributing your share, make sure you’re not an actual burden in the first place. Bravery is necessary yet reckless behaviors never count. Stay alive! In the era of peace, you’re worth more alive than dead.’
‘Nobody is less important than any other. You matter.’
‘Once you’re in responsibility, your personal business shouldn’t nag at you. ’
‘Think of the people we’re fighting for.’
‘The best way of showing sympathy is revealing the truth.’
‘See, nice teamwork! Thank D.I. Dimmock and Sergeant Donovan for their excellent remarks. Are we understood?’ Mycroft concluded and motioned to the two, the audience serious. ‘Back to the original question about Mr. Sherlock Holmes, we appreciate his kindness and participation. However we don’t look forward to future co-works; once he’s in, it means something horrible is happening. This is a lovely world after all.’
‘And can you imagine it a living hell?’ asked Monsieur Harry kindly, making a cup of tea and serving it to the silent Greg. It was quite a hard moment for the honest inspector to take over what he was aware of. Not so of a rage as he was when he first read the document, Greg was taken hold of by deep sadness instead, so massive that beyond description.
‘I can’t, and I don’t want to,’ said Greg with a level tongue after a while to calm himself. ‘Is it a must to be hegemon?’
‘No, it’s never a matter of being a winner. We but can’t afford any lose,’ said Monsieur Harry calmly. ‘This plan wasn’t put into actual action if it makes you feel easy.’
‘They’re dead but taken advantage of. How about their dignity?’ murmured Greg as though to himself, and then he looked up to ask, grieved but firm. ‘Next…if there was a next time, would we, I mean, you…fine, we! Do we still have to do such?’
‘I appreciate your goodness and righteousness much, D.I. Lestrade. But sometimes we merely have options from death, and death.’
All or nothing.
Sitting quietly there, Greg was considering the conversation with Monsieur Harry. The past peaceful days gave him a wrong impression that he could manage such a life, as getting involved in crucial events, reading tons of documents, attending meetings with VIPs and being decent. Till this moment he had a good idea that he would never make it, because Greg Lestrade would never give out decisions as harsh as those Mycroft Holmes had done.
‘We're not made of marble, Greg. Even if we have to wear stony masks.' The gentleman's words came to him again. Getting on his feet from the yoga mat, Greg took a last look at the wall and he had decided.

doing.
Nonetheless Mycroft was palming his face now. He could sense the storm in the air and it didn’t come for nothing. He followed the field personnel of Dimmock’s division last night and experienced hunting the criminal vividly. It turned out that Mycroft was so excited that he had a sleepless night when back to the studio. Unexpectedly he got a call in the morning when out of sorts. Right this moment, looking at the ring on the left ring finger, Mycroft felt awful.
‘Youuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu!’ Sally stormed into the office and shut the door by force, furious.
‘Let me explain, please!’ said Mycroft anxiously. ‘I am so, so sorry! I didn’t know that shouting lady was his wife.’
‘Thank to you, she’s his soon-to-be ex-wife!’ yelled Sally madly, her mobile grasped in hand. ‘What the heck did you say to her?’
‘I, said…’ answered Mycroft in a stuttered way.
‘You said “Reserve a time with Anthea!” What in Heaven’s name were you thinking?’
‘I wasn’t conscious…’
‘And she just called me! Screaming for twenty minutes!’ She was on the brink to scream too.
‘What was she screaming for?’
‘She asked me who Anthea was and labeled her “the other woman”!’
‘But it was her sleeping…’
‘I KNOW!’ Sally finally exploded and stormed out to the corridor. ‘Anderson!’
‘What d’you want? I’ll response!’ said Dimmock nervously. Anderson rolled his eyes so hard that Dimmock felt hurt at the back of his own head.
‘Are you guys hiding something from me? You’ve been all dubious.’
‘What brought on that?’
‘Greg! Neatly-ironed suit, well-cut trousers. Dressed up like he’s ready for a dinner anytime. Taking tea instead of coffee; healthier, he says. What was the last time he went to Holmes?’
‘Tea is healthier,’ said Dimmock awkwardly, wondering why Mycroft had to go to Sherlock.
‘He’ not himself!’ called Anderson, staring at Dimmock with a why-not-get-me face. ‘God knows something must happen to him!’
Dimmock fought so hard not to say bingo, ‘God does have a weird sense of humor.’
‘Anderson!’ A thunder came from the corridor before Anderson tried to continue, too strong for the door to screen it. Dimmock found a way out at once.
‘Try Sally, perhaps she knows!’
‘Anderson! Where the Hell is my signature?’ another thunder came.
‘Gosh!’ Anderson looked at the file in his hand and rushed out of the room. ‘Dare I?’
Dimmock stood there for a couple of seconds and talked to the mobile again. ‘My boss has definitely known! Even Anderson’s caught the hints!’
‘Just shut your mouth up, Mycroft Holmes! If I were not a cop…’
‘You still can’t kill me!’ The wrongdoer added immediately. ‘I’m terribly sorry and not making excuses for my recklessness, Greg. But frankly speaking isn’t it a time for you to have a good consideration about your marriage? Separation is no answer.’
‘Don’t you pretend to be an expert in the marriage.’
‘It doesn’t take a genius to meet your problem although there isn’t much theory in me. Have you ever heard, “happy wife, happy life”?’
‘We used to be happy,’ said Greg, sorry for himself. ‘If I were not that busy…’
‘You would never be the conscientious D.I. Lestrade that we’ve known,’ said Mycroft kindly with a certainty. ‘It’s never ever your fault, Greg. Let bygones be bygones, cherish the present.’
Saying no more for a while, Greg carried on. ‘I’ll never say thank you!’
‘You’re still very welcome.’
Squinting at the page boy after hanging up the phone, Greg twisted his lips. Billy, wondering what was happening here, said at last, ‘Sir, sesame oil?’ ‘Ginger juice!’ said Greg hatefully.

作者有话说：
关于第四章 Thank to you, she’s his soon-to-be ex-wife! 应该是Thanks to you.
I'll responce. 应该是I'll respond.
不好意思，这些小问题。
中文部分：你是知不道 “知不道”不是错误，是方言。其实也并不局限地区，很多地方这么说。

Act V Tweedledum and Tweedledee vs. Venus and Jupiter
Anthea: Glad to have had you here.
‘This is not right.’
‘What? I bought it yesterday,
‘Not the milk; Lestrade,’ said Sherlock, throwing Daily Mail and The Times irritably on the couch. ‘Doesn’t spring breed everything, bacteria, viruses and crimes?’
‘Eh? Ah, they scored another one!’ said John, picking up the newspaper which issued a good announcement of Scotland Yard, while his flatmate sneered.
‘Don’t be that, Sherlock!’ Mrs. Hudson chipped in when serving them breakfast, John thanking her with a big grin. ‘It’s reliable of them.’
‘Them? Too stupid to insult,’ mocked Sherlock, and catching the two off guard, yelled, ‘I need a case!’
‘How about your brother? Call him, give him a hand and serve the country?’ John’s suggestion got an even louder sneer in return.
‘We saw Mycroft that day and he waved,’ said Mrs. Hudson. ‘What a gentleman!’
‘Did he?’ asked Sherlock, thinking hard and frowning. ‘Everything seems wrong.’
‘What for Hell’s sake seems wrong to you?’
‘He’s no warm like. Even Anthea.’
‘What’s wrong with her?’
‘Don’t you observe? It must be hard to work out your brain.’
‘Yea I agree. So please be mercy and tell us what you’ve observed!’
‘Her shoes!’ called Sherlock excitedly but John and Mrs. Hudson were totally lost. ‘A much-cheaper brand she never looked at before!’
‘I think they were nice shoes,’ said Mrs. Hudson while John was really feeling helpless to Sherlock’s reply. ‘Comfortableness comes first for a pair of shoes, not the tag.’
‘Beauty knows no pain! Women,’ said Sherlock at random but was given looks by the two. ‘Ladies.’
‘Men never change. Blame girls for wasting money on shoes, hats and jewelries; become doubtful for nothing when we’re indeed thrifty.’
‘I’ll never blame you for so,’ John followed up quickly. ‘Just buy what you want when you want it.’
‘Good boy!’ the landlady smiled and turned to them both. ‘Tidy the mess up. You may have a client on his way.’
Far-fetched mountains were bemisted gleamingly, and the rising sun was playing hide and seek with clouds floated in the sky, making its way to cast a bright light over the ground through the gaps. Birds were tweeting constantly and fluttering around pine trees that were evergreen almost through the year, composing a delightful background symphony. Hiking with a cane, along the trail winding along the terrain, unidentified flowers swaying to the morning breeze, Mycroft stretched out his limbs, taking a deep fresh breath. To have something in hand while walking was quite a baffling yet familiar feeling. “There is nothing more precious than this day.” Such a sentence occurred to him as it was, and he however didn’t bother to overthink. Thinking was unnecessary here and now.
The Chief Superintendent was generous again and agreed D.I. Lestrade’s application for a short break. ‘You’re greatly

efficient recently,’ said Inspector Gregson. ‘Take it and rest.’ Well, if they didn’t take into account that D.I. Dimmock went mad because some unsolved cases, minor though, were transferred to his division from Greg’s. Coming to our dear inspector…
‘Hello, Greg? How are you doing today?’
‘Where for God’s sake are you?’
‘Enjoying the outdoor air,’ answered Mycroft delightfully. ‘It’s been years since I…’
‘Why don’t you tell me you’re out of town?’
‘Now you know,’ said Mycroft, wondering why Greg was on edge. ‘What happened by the way?’
‘Your brother! He’s up to something with your ID and it triggered the alarm!’ said Greg anxiously.
Mycroft had been next to forgetting all about his whining brother. ‘Again? Relax, Anthea can fix it.’
‘I let the girls have a day off, too much for them recently,’ said Greg meaningfully. ‘It’s been fixed already.’
‘Then it’s over, worry not.’
‘No it’s not! I’m telling you their whereabouts and you do your supervision!’
‘You don’t say! Babysitting?’ Mycroft felt stunned.
‘Hum, you have no idea,’ replied Greg in a pleasant mood.
‘Today’s the anniversary,’ said Sally, passing an ill-fit top to the seller. ‘Everything’s on sale.’
‘How could I miss so many pretty things for years?’ said Anthea, measuring a dress roughly in front of a mirror.
‘Many boutiques are located in avenues and you have to walk,’ said Sally, looking through the new arrivals randomly. ‘No worse than department stores if you ask me.’
‘Of course not!’
‘I’m in the fitting room. Take my member card, it has extra discounts.’
With a glass of water, Mycroft leant against the refrigerator. The scene that he first saw the figure as Greg on its surface was as fresh as it was on day one; yet now he was at ease, especially after a shocking and exhausting trip, thanks to the residents of 221B. Being D.I. Lestrade for two weeks, Mycroft had an impression that such a life he’d never experienced before was somewhat familiar to him.
Instead of the low-key yet well-equipped saloon, he took the public transport and offered his seats to senior citizens, pregnant ladies or small children at times. Instead of three courses per meal, he used the mess hall and the conversion taking place there was as delicious as the food. Instead of being taken good care of, he finally managed to keep the studio neat and clean, more like a home than a terminal to him now. Instead of operating his brain like crazy, he made his effort to solve cases and chase criminals, which were not as crucial or cruel as national affairs, yet as close and real as a life.
There came a phone ring and it didn’t take a second for Mycroft to know that was Greg. Who else would call the landline?

‘Do you know the accurate time?’
‘You got me! We merely know some time tonight. So I suppose tomorrow morning we’d be back where we usually are.’
‘Nervous?’
‘No. And you?’
‘Me neither!’ said Greg rapidly. ‘Fine, a little.’
‘How come, Inspector? You’re the star of the Yard.’
‘I am a human being!’
‘And humans fear, I understand. I went to the field that day, oh my!’
‘What?’
‘It never came to me Dimmock could be that agile. He always looks smaller in his medium-size uniform.’
‘This was your review?’
‘I saw people fighting, covered with sweat and blood. Justice is justice, right in front of my eyes. I’m saying this sincerely, Greg. You lot are beyond admirable.’
‘Thank you, Mycroft. It means a lot to us,’ said Greg with respect. ‘I’ll tell Dimmock.’
‘Selectively, please,’ said Mycroft. ‘They planned a party actually to, say, welcome our returns. Unfortunately Monsieur Harry went aboard.’
‘So Billy made me a big dinner instead,’ said Greg. ‘He really cooks.’
‘Glad to know you like my place.’
‘I envy you of the giant bed. Mine is too small to turn over freely,’ said Greg at leisure, with the telephone wire stretched long.
‘Say hello to the bruise on my elbow!’ said Mycroft reluctantly. Both laughed hard, echoes travelling through the line.
‘Lucky us, we’ve got the best people,’ said Greg, fighting his laughter back.
‘I’m seriously thinking about raising my fellows’ payments. Orders are easy for me to make, not so for them to put into action.’
‘At least make a fat one to Anthea. And Billy! I believe I’ll miss Billy after tomorrow. No more ironed newspaper in the morning. Oy, Mycroft,’ said Greg in an odd tongue. ‘You were out to hide from Sally, were you not?’
‘…I choose not to answer this one,’ answered Mycroft in a level voice.
‘C’mon, man! Humans fear,’ giggled Greg. Then he carried on, ‘It’s not shame to be afraid, Mycroft. You have good reasons to have fears, although you barely expose them in light.’
‘Excuse me?’
‘I had a good talk with M’sieur Harry and I’m not letting you know what we talked about. I’d say I saw the poster in your study. Very touching.’
‘Never was so much owed…’
‘…by so many to so few,’ Greg followed up. ‘It allowed me to think. I used to complain and feel unfair. Persons such as you, generally have everything. Power, reputation, money and class. You simply give a sign and there’re people making whatever effort to complete the task. “I wouldn’t be worse than you if I were you”, I thought.’
‘You’re no worse…’
‘Don’t chip in, Mycroft. I don’t think it’ll happen again,’ said Greg. ‘I didn’t see your importance until I became you. With great power, comes great responsibility. Behind enormous appearance, hides enormous danger. There is no such thing as an easy path to travel for you. I’d never be you, Mycroft. You’re beyond admirable too.’
‘I appreciate it, Greg. It means a lot to me, too!’ said Mycroft at last after a long while of silence.
‘But I still hate you to cover Sherlock every time he’s in trouble. That little bastard deserves lessons! He’s even picking from you.’
‘I’m on your side on that note. Sometimes he’s gone too far. Thanks again for guarding him. But Greg,’ said Mycroft in a slow manner. ‘Why does he have a full drawer of badges with your name?’
‘You’re as evil! We hate him!’ called Greg.
‘Really?’
‘And we love him for that,’ sighed Greg with profound resignation.
Mycroft couldn’t help chuckling, lying on bed and staring through the window. The lower part of the sky was brightened by the multifarious lights from the busy city of London and all colours slowly merged into dark blue. It was not likely to have a starry sky in cities, but Mycroft wouldn’t miss the stars this time.
‘Er?’
‘Emm?’
‘Which is which?’
‘The brighter one is Venus.’ Unexpectedly Mycroft understood Greg’s sudden question.
‘You actually know!’
‘I told you not to take me for my brother, Inspector!’
‘I’m sure now,’ agreed Greg. ‘Please give my regards to M’sieur Harry, Anthea and Billy. I won’t make it without them.’
‘Please send my best wishes to Sally and Dimmock. I treasure each and every passing day as a Scotland Yarder.’
Lights of the city went out gradually, some still on. Night flights flew through the air with their little red bulbs flashing.
‘Good night, Mycroft!’
‘Sleep tight, Greg!’

第五幕 半斤八两vs.金木相合
安西娅：与您合作，十分荣幸。
“这玩儿有问题。”
“啥？昨天才买的啊。”
“没说牛奶，是雷斯垂德。”夏洛克说道，烦躁兮兮地把每日邮报和泰晤士报撇到沙发上。“春天不是滋生一切么？细菌、病毒、犯罪。”
“嗯？啊，他们又破案了！”约翰边说，边把报道苏格兰场捷报的报纸拿了起来，而他的室友就一声冷笑。
“夏洛克，别这样！”哈德森太太给他们送早餐的时候，也插了句话，约翰笑得大大得表示感谢。“他们很靠谱儿的。”
“他们？傻得懒得提，”夏洛克嘲讽着，一声大吼吓二人一跳。“给我个案子！”
“你哥呢？给他打个电话，帮帮忙，造福下国家？”约翰的提议换来一声更大声的冷笑。
“我们那天碰见麦克劳夫特了，他还挥手了。”哈德森太太说，“多绅士啊！”
“是么？”夏洛克问，皱着眉头使劲儿想。“全都有问题。”
“你到底看到啥有问题了？”
“他可不是个热情的人。安西娅也是。”
“她又怎么了？”
“你就不观察么？要你动动脑真难啊。”
“是啊是啊。那请你大发慈悲地告诉我们，你观察到了啥。”
“她的鞋！”夏洛克兴奋地喊，可约翰和哈德森太太一头雾水。“她从前看都不看的廉价牌子！”
“我觉得那鞋子不错啊，”哈德森太太说道，约翰则对夏洛克的回答感到深深地无力。“看鞋子，舒服不舒服才是第一位，牌子不重要。”
“为了美，无所谓疼！女人啊，”夏洛克随口说着，却被俩个人丢了脸色。“女士们。”
“男人都一样。批评姑娘们在鞋子、帽子还有首饰上浪费钱；我们真的节俭了，又变得瞎猜疑。”
“我绝不会这么说您的，”约翰赶紧接话。“您随时想买啥，就买啥。”
“乖了！”房东太太笑眯眯，转向他们俩。“拾掇一下吧。说不定有客户就要来了呢。”
远山笼罩在雾里，朦朦胧胧；初升的太阳在浮云中若隐若现，努力地在云缝之间，洒向大地一片阳光。鸟儿围着四季常青的松树上下扑腾，欢快地叫个不停，组成一曲和谐的交响乐。撑着手杖，行走在顺势蜿蜒的小路上，叫不上名字的花儿迎着晨风摆动，麦克劳夫特舒展着四肢，深深地吸了一口新鲜空气。走路时手里握着点儿什么，让他有一种莫名其妙的熟悉感。“这样的日子最珍贵。”如此的想法就这么出现了，而他也懒得多想。思考什么的，此时此刻太多余了。
总警司又大方了一次，批了雷斯垂德探长的短假。“你最近非常效率，”格雷格森探长说，“拿着吧，歇歇。”好吧，如果不算上迪莫克探长的暴跳如雷。因为格雷格组的一些未完的案子，虽然不大，都转到他组里去了。说起我们亲爱的探长…
“喂，格雷格？今天过得如何？”
“拜托，你在哪儿啊？”
“在户外，享受新鲜空气，”麦克劳夫特爽快地回答。“我都好几年没…”
“你为啥不告诉我你出门儿了？”
“现在你知道了，”麦克劳夫特说道，很奇怪格雷格为什么这么紧张。“能问问怎么了么？”
“你弟！他拿了你的证件，图谋不轨，触发了警报！”格雷格焦急地说。
麦克劳夫特几乎都要忘了还有这么个闹心的弟弟。“又来？没事儿，安西娅能搞定。”
“我给丫头们放假了，这些日子难为她们了。”格雷格意味深长。“已经搞定了。”
“那就结了，别担心。”
“还没结呢！我这就告诉你他们在哪儿，你去看着他们！”
“不是吧！看孩子？”麦克劳夫特震惊了。
“哼哼，你根本不懂。”格雷格心情大好地回答。
“今天店庆，”萨莉说着，把不合身儿的一件上衣递给导购。“全面打折。”
“我怎么就能错过这些好东西这么多年？”安西娅说着，在镜子前比量着一条裙子。
“很多小店都在巷子里，你得用走的。”萨莉边说，边随手翻看刚到的货。“要我说，不比百货公司差。”

“必须不差！”
“我去试衣间了。拿我的会员卡，有折上折。”
端着杯水，麦克劳夫特靠在冰箱上。他还清楚地记得，第一次在冰箱表面看到格雷格的映像那一幕；而现在，他悠闲自在，特别是拜221B的两位所赐，经历了那惊心动魄、人仰马翻的一场。成为雷斯垂德探长两周以来，麦克劳夫特觉得，这种从未经历过的生活对他来说，竟有些习惯。
没有了低调得华丽的小轿车，他改乘坐公共交通，有时还给老人、孕妇或小孩子让座。没有了一餐三道菜，他去吃单位食堂，八卦闲谈和食物一样有料。没有了体贴入微的服侍，他总算能保持小公寓干净整洁，比起暂住，更像个家。没有了思维的疯狂运转，他在努力地办案、缉凶，虽然不跟国家大事似的重大而严酷，却是生活一般贴近而真实。
电话铃响起，麦克劳夫特立即就知道是格雷格打来的。还有谁会打座机呢？
“知道具体几点么？”
“问住我了！我们也就知道是今晚某时。所以我估计，明天早晨我们就各归各位了。”
“紧张不？”
“不。你呢？”
“我也不！”格雷格答得飞快。“好吧，有点儿。”
“不能够啊，探长！你可是苏格兰场的标杆儿啊。”
“我是人！”
“是人都会怕，我懂了。我那天出现场了，老天！”
“啥？”
“我从没想过，迪莫克会那么灵巧啊。穿着那件儿中号大衣，他看起来格外小只。”
“这就是你的观后感？”
“我看到大家在拼命，流血、流汗。就在我眼前，正义被伸张。诚心诚意地说，格雷格。你们格外值得尊重。”
“谢谢你，麦克劳夫特。这话对我们意义重大。”格雷格认真地说，“我会告诉迪莫克的。”
“请节选地告诉他。”麦克劳夫特说，“他们本来计划了个聚会来着，说是，庆祝我们回归。遗憾的是，哈利先生出国了。”
“比利晚上做了顿大餐补偿了。”格雷格说，“他手艺绝了。”
“很高兴你喜欢我家。“
“老羡慕你有这个大床了。我的太小了，都不能随便翻身。”格雷格悠闲地说，电话线扯得老长。
“来，看看我胳膊肘儿上的青！”麦克劳夫特无奈地说。他俩放声大笑，电话线里都回声了。
“多幸运啊，我们有着最好的同事。”格雷格憋住了笑，说道。
“我真的开始考虑给我的部下涨工资了。我发布个命令不难，可他们执行起来就不一定了。”
“起码给安西娅多涨些！还有比利！我觉得明天之后，我就要怀念比利了。早上再也没有熨好的报纸了。喂，麦克劳夫特，”格雷格语气怪怪的，“你跑出去，不是为了躲开萨莉吧？”
“…我选择不回答这个问题。”麦克劳夫特声音平平地回答。
“不是吧，伙计！是人都会怕，”格雷格咯咯笑。然后他继续说：“会害怕没啥丢人的，麦克劳夫特。你完全由理由去恐惧，尽管你的恐惧从不流露出来。”
“你是说？”
“我和哈利先生有一次长谈，我不会告诉你我们都谈了什么。要说的是，我看到了你书房里的海报。很触动。”
“从未有过如此之少的人，为如此之多的人…”
“…做出如此大的牺牲。”格雷格接着说。“这让我思考。我曾经很抱怨，觉得不公平。你这样的人，差不多拥有一切。权利，名声，财富，还有地位。你简简单单打个手势，就自有人卖命去完成。‘我要是你，不会比你差’，我这么想的。”
“你不差的…”
“别打断我，麦克劳夫特。这话我可不会说二次。”格雷格说，“直到我成为了你，才知道你的重要性。能力有多大，责任就有多大。表面有多风光无限，背后就有多危机四伏。对你来说，就没有捷径可走。我成为不了你，麦克劳夫特。你也一样，格外值得尊重。”
“很感谢你，格雷格。这话对我也一样意义重大！”长长的寂静之后，麦克劳夫特终于说道。
“但我可烦你——每次夏洛克有麻烦——就罩着他。这小混蛋就欠收拾！他还顺你的东西呢。”
“关于这点，我支持你。他有时候太过分了。再次感谢你保他。不过格雷格，”麦克劳夫特慢吞吞地说，“为什么他有一抽屉写着你名字的警徽呢？”
“你一样糟！我们恨他恨得牙痒痒！”格雷格大喊。
“真的？”
“又稀罕他稀罕得不行。”格雷格极其无奈地叹气。
麦克劳夫特忍不住轻笑，躺在床上，盯着窗外。繁华的伦敦城里，五光十色的灯光把低处的天空映得明亮；而一切颜色又渐渐融入了一片深蓝。城市里可不容易看到满天星辰，但这次麦克劳夫特可不会错过。
“呃？”
“嗯？”
“哪个是哪个啊？”
“最亮的那个是金星。”意外地，麦克劳夫特听懂了格雷格没头没脑的一问。
“你竟然知道！”
“我都说了，探长，别把我当我弟弟！”
“现在确认了。”格雷格表示同意。“替我给哈利先生、安西娅还有比利带好。没他们，我挺不下来。”
“请代我问候萨莉和迪莫克。在苏格兰场度过的每一天，都很珍贵。”
城市的灯光渐暗，有一些还亮着。午夜航班飞过天空，红色信号灯一闪一闪。
“晚安，麦克劳夫特！”
“好眠，格雷格！”
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Never was so much owed by so many to so few.
----Winston Churchill, British Prime Minister
全句：Never in the field of human conflict was so much owed by so many to so few. 二战海报上写的文中引用的部分。