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CHAPTER ONE MYCROFT'S DEAR DIARY
Mycroft Holmes had a less-known fact that he wrote diary everyday. Yes, everyday. He had started his first book since very little and now it had become a habit with him. At the beginning he noted down things happening chronologically within a day as all other children did. As time went by he preferred recording remarkable events to making daily minutes. Sometimes simply a few lines would do. Once in the right mood and time Mycroft would like to flood the page although such a case was rare. He was working on the portion for today at this moment in a really cheerful mood.
"We've got married." He put a line under today's date and ended it with a pleasingly plump full stop. Then he closed the book and got on his feet to put the dairy on the bookshelf. A number of notebooks of a kind were neatly aligned on the second shelf, dark covers and thickness making them serious. Mycroft took a good look at them with a smile, wondering if he should let Greg come over and admire them too.
Greg Lestrade, the name present everywhere in Mycroft's dairy, was the very spouse mentioned in the marriage above, Inspector of Scotland Yard. Greg surely had knowledge about those dairy books but he never read any. In his opinion, the events recorded in paper by the important Mycroft must be of great significance. Domestic or international issues, he reckoned. Probably both.
Mycroft however never denied Greg's guess even if his writings had nothing to do with the nation or the globe but were actually modest. It could be a random sight caught on the street, or a phone call of concerns. Thanks to his marvelous brain Mycroft barely needed a hard-copy To-Do list. What was more, he had got Anthea, the best assistant one could ever imagine, who made life and work easier as a walking calendar.
Mycroft went to hard copies since he enjoyed the comfort when touching the pages and smelling the odor of ink. All those made him feel real and brought the memories back vividly. For instance the line he did today. Mycroft couldn't help beaming and falling into the thoughts of the very beginning.

第一章 麦克劳夫特的日记
麦克劳夫特·福尔摩斯有件不为人知的事：他每天都记日记。是的，每一天。他从很小的时候就开始写了，到现在早已成为习惯。刚开始的时候他会像其他孩子那样，把一天里发生的事情顺序写下来。到后来，他更倾向于记录下有意义的事，而不是每日流水账。有时候简单的几行就足够。要是心情不错也有时间的话，麦克劳夫特也愿意洋洋洒洒写上好多，尽管这样的时候并不多。此时此刻，他正在写今天的份儿，心情相当得好。
“我们结婚了。”他在今天的日期下写了这样一句，用一个圆润的句号作为结束。合上本子站起身来，他把日记本放到了书架上。书架第二层上，整整齐齐地码着一排同款的笔记本。深色的封面及其厚度，有种郑重其事的感觉。麦克劳夫特笑眯眯地来回看了看这些本子，想着是不是也让格雷格一起来欣赏欣赏。
格雷格·雷斯垂德，一个在麦克劳夫特日记里无处不在的名字，就是刚才提到的“结婚”的另一方：苏格兰场的探长。格雷格自然是知道有这些日记的，但是他从来没有读过任何一篇。在他看来，能被麦克劳夫特这么重要的人物用纸笔记录下来的事件，必须都是大事。要不国内的，要不国际的，他估摸着。很可能都有。
虽然麦克劳夫特写的东西朴素异常，跟国内国际毫无关系，但他也从不去反驳格雷格的猜想。记下的可以是街头无意瞥见的一眼，也可以是一个问候的来电。鉴于他那绝顶的头脑，麦克劳夫特几乎不需要任何写下来的“今日必做”。更何况，他还有一个超乎想象能干的助理，安西娅。作为一个人形备忘录，她让自己的工作和生活都轻松不少。
麦克劳夫特之所以喜欢纸质的记录，是因为他很享受触摸纸张和闻到墨香所带来的惬意。这些都让他觉得无比真实，也会带回那些生动的回忆。就比如说今天写下的那句话。麦克劳夫特忍不住笑容满面，陷入了对最初的各种回忆。

第二章 命中注定的相遇
作为全天下众多的教务处的一员，罗宾森太太可谓典型。 她三十大几，严肃而固执。她最喜欢听话又用功的孩子；对于那些调皮闹心的，她会告诉你那都是些闯祸精。现在的她，正一脸严肃地盯着一个男孩子。
“我对你真是遗憾又失望。你上次怎么跟我保证的来着？会乖会听话？”她严厉地说。
被指责的那个孩子没有说话。他低垂着眼睛看着地板，只是撅着的嘴巴表现出他其实并没听进去那些话。
“我今天很忙，就把你交给主任了。”罗宾森太太说着，就带着那个孩子往主任办公室走。
这是一间位于郊区的小学。虽然位置不怎么样，教学声誉却不错。所以家长们都想方设法给自己的孩子弄个名额，特别是新学期开学的时候。此刻就有一个小男孩坐在主任办公室外的长椅上，手里抓着个大书包。他时不时地回头看看半开的办公室门，好像在等主任的样子。再回头，小男孩就看见一位女士带着另一个孩子走了过来。
“你坐好！我现在得走了，不过马上就会回来。主任这次来处理你。”罗宾森太太说完这话就走了。和她一起来的男孩子在她身后做了个鬼脸，那个小的看起来倒是有点儿紧张。
“哎呀，”大一点儿的孩子瘫在长椅上，给自己找了个舒服的姿势。“每次都这样。”
“你好…”旁边的小男孩犹豫地说。
“啊，你好！”他应了一声，顺便扫了小男孩一眼。“新来的？”
“我么？是的。我刚刚转学过来，今天是第一天来。”小男孩边说边揪着簇新校服的衣角，试图让自己放轻松。另一个孩子倒是穿着扣子乱扣的校服悠闲得很。
“行啊，欢迎！跟你说实话，这里还挺不错的。”
“真的么？太谢谢你了！忘了自我介绍，我叫麦克劳夫特，麦克劳夫特·福尔摩斯。”
“我叫格雷格。你说你叫啥？麦克劳夫特？嗯…听起来真有派，不是么？”格雷格感叹了一句，麦克劳夫特看起来很高兴。
“来自古英语，几百年了。”
“怪不得。我听着像基督徒的名字。”
“我不是基督徒，真不好意思。”
“哦，别傻了，我才不在乎呢。我也不是。你多大？”
“八岁…”
“就说你看起来好小！顺便说句我快十一了。那你一定是二年级的了，我四年级。”
“很高兴见到你，格雷格。”
“我也是。那个啥，要是有人欺负你，你就尽管来找我。我罩着你。”
“非常感谢你这么说。只是，我其实不是二年级，是…”
麦克劳夫特还没说完，刚刚还半开的主任办公室的门，突然之间全开了。主任走了出来，一脸愉悦声音愉快地招呼了麦克劳夫特。“欢迎加入本校，亲爱的麦克劳夫特。你的申请实在是出色。我十分确定你将在这里过得非常愉快。”
“谢谢您，先生！”麦克劳夫特礼貌地回答，往刚认识的新朋友那里瞥了一眼，就见格雷格在冲他眨眼睛。
“罗宾森太太你来的真及时！能帮我个小忙，带这个新生去他的班级么？”主任招呼着刚回来的教务处管理。
“非常乐意。”罗宾森太太说。麦克劳夫特冲着格雷格快速点了个头，就和罗宾森太太一道离开了。
“现在到你了，格雷格·雷斯垂德。你怎么敢往你班主任的包里放一堆毛毛虫！老天爷，这才开学第一个礼拜！”两人刚走，主任就开始发难。
“她查都没查就怪我同学犯错！甚至不听他们解释！”格雷格试图说明理由。
“你现在还狡辩…”
这两位都没有想着去降低音量，声音大得一清二楚。他叫格雷格·雷斯垂德啊？麦克劳夫特想。他一定正义又勇敢。然后下一秒钟麦克劳夫特就意识到自己还没告诉格雷格，他也是来读四年级的。
* * * *
往后的日子里，每当他俩提到这搞笑的初次见面，格雷格总说这是富家乖宝宝遭遇调皮坏小子。不过麦克劳夫特个人认为，那是他以后人生的盛大开篇。

第三章 友谊的萌芽
小孩子都是天使，纯洁天真。只是有的时候，这种无辜比真正的恶意更伤人。
作为新来的，麦克劳夫特很快就融入了集体。因为跳了几级，他就是班里最小的。礼貌、利索、特聪明，还可爱。他占据了所有的关键词。老师们喜欢他，同学们也是。
好吧，也不是所有同学，格雷格还是有些不开心。当然了他很高兴能再次见到麦克劳夫特，但是从没想过在自己班里看见他。当老师对大家介绍新来的学生时，他觉得自个儿特犯傻特迷糊。他怎么不告诉我！格雷格心中大喊。
麦克劳夫特好像感觉到了格雷格的情绪，所以他主动地凑了过去。几下子，格雷格被成功取悦了，两人成了伙伴。
麦克劳夫特的班级环境很轻松，格雷格的却不是。事实上，尽管格雷格非常乐于助人，大家却并不太接受。同学们说：“格雷格学习不好哦。格雷格大声音。他家又穷又挤。你和他凑得近容易被连累的。”
麦克劳夫特对这种闲话根本不理。只是这些话到处都是。在班级这样一个小团体里，要彻底的无视掉什么也不太容易。就连格雷格本人也感受到了，处于暴走边缘。
终于这边缘扛不住了。
“怎么了，格雷格？还好么？”一天放学后，麦克劳夫特被堵在了小巷子里，他试图让自己不慌。
“你说说我好不好吧。你是怎么回事儿？”格雷格有些火大，一脸郁闷。“听说什么了？”
麦克劳夫特觉得不好意思：“他们说…我不该和你做朋友。”
“啥？我怎么了？”格雷格又火大又迷惑。“你就扯吧！”
“是真的。他们要是知道我和你是朋友，我就有大麻烦了！”
格雷格很难说清自己的此时感受。被冒犯还是被伤害？也许兼有。“我还当我们已经是朋友了。”
“我本来也这么想的。但是他们说…”
“管他们说啥！我是在问你，你现在，怎么想的！”
“当然是朋友！”
“啧啧，这忠诚！”格雷格凉凉地嘲笑道。
“真的，格雷格，我真这么想。我所说的就是我所想的。”
“那就真的去做你所说的！”格雷格感到疲惫，想要离开。
生来聪明的麦克劳夫特·福尔摩斯在过去的人生中从来没有遭遇这样的场景。他是非常喜欢格雷格这个人的，但是他也陷入了闲话的混乱里。格雷格应该比其他人都重要的吧？麦克劳夫特有些算不清了。
“不能让他走！绝不！”这个想法瞬间出现在脑海里，麦克劳夫特马上落实。
“格雷格，等等！”他大喊着冲了过去。“真的是非常非常非常抱歉，我说的那些，做的那些。我太傻了…弄不清自己想要什么。你对我来说太重要了，格雷格！我们还是朋友，是的吧？求你了格雷格，别生我气。”
见麦克劳夫特用从没有过的急迫语气来表白自己，格雷格只有认了。“你…别这么说。你要是傻了，我就脑残了。好了…不晓得你为啥这么不爽。我才是该郁闷的那个吧？好了好了，别这样。我们是朋友啊。听着，我们是朋友，很要好的朋友。”
“比要好还好！”麦克劳夫特听见这话就笑了。
“恩，比要好还好。”格雷格也笑了，把这整件事就当做惯坏了的小孩子的一场撒娇。麦克劳夫特怎么说也才八岁啊，他想。

CHAPTER FOURLE COTTAGE DE LA RIVIERE
"Greg is the first friend I've ever had. He is certainly the best. I should not have let others' minds bother me since I have mine." Mycroft ended his diary with this paragraph. Then he recalled something and put another line there. "The hell!" Mycroft decided to use Greg's expression.
Mycroft hadn't had an early childhood as likeable as he was because of his clear mind. Although it wasn't anti-intellectualism or whatever, being a nerd was not something cool anyway. Hence he valued the friendship with Greg above all. And Mycroft put it into practice.
He mentored Greg when there was any problem in study.
‘Here should be "oui" in lieu of "si".'
‘Any difference? They are both yes, aren't they?'
‘True. Well "oui" is simply yes and "si" somewhat has something to do with the negative context.'
‘Like?'
‘Say, are you having dinner with me? You use oui. If I say "aren't you having dinner with me?", how do you say "yes, I am"?'
‘Eh...si?' said Greg uncertainly.
‘Exactly!' said Mycroft, smiling. ‘Let's have dinner.'
He pacified Greg when somebody said annoying again.
‘Oh, don't tell me you are mad about what she said.'
‘Even she said Greg was a moron?'
‘Well see, it takes one to know one.'
‘...so I shall say Mycroft is awesome?'
‘Oh dear!' said Mycroft in a drama tone. ‘You're embarrassing me.'
He joined Greg after school for average boys' fun.
‘You do fishing?' Mycroft was absolutely shocked.
‘Oui! Quite into it,' said Greg proudly.
‘Gee!'
‘Why gee? Don't you see I'm a huge fan of sports?'
‘Si! But fishing is sedentary. How can I picture you sit still?'
‘Now you can as you're with me today. Let's go to the reservoir and I will be a good teacher.'
‘Well thanks for your offer. On that note I guess I can show you something.'
‘What?'
‘My family has a place by the river. Let's go there, shall we?'
It was Greg's turn to be astonished.
‘Oh my dear Lord!'
‘Excuse me?'
‘When you mentioned "a place" I though it was merely a hut!'
‘Isn't it?'
‘Of course not. I mean look at it. Two up, two down and a fireplace! I can live here. What a cottage!'
‘Is it?'
‘You're not actually living in a palace, are you? Do please inform me in advance if we're going to your house next time!'
‘So I take it as you like here?'
‘Very much!'
****
An arrogant little bastard. Greg labeled Mycroft as such. As to Mycroft, he felt very fine with such a remark. ‘You are the one and only to call me bastard,' said Mycroft. Greg cast him a ‘how-honored-I-am' look as reply.

CHAPTER FIVECHRISTMAS KISSES
"How time flies!" Mycroft took this sentence in writing, feeling cliché for using it. Yet time does fly. Before everyone had realized, it winter was officially on its way. After Halloween and the Guy Fawkes night, London was filled by a lively air of Christmas and one could hear Yule singings on the street and in any shop.
‘'Tis the season to be jolly, falalalala, lalalala!' Greg was busy with homework, singing. Holiday break though, he still had plenty to do. Teachers assigned books and assays, let alone the list offered by Mycroft who said ‘Reading is good.'
Nevertheless it was Christmas and even Mycroft was not in the mood to bury himself in books after all work done. Right now he was killing time in Greg's and as joyful as the singing boy was. ‘You know you're coming to the Ball tonight, don't you? Got ready?'
‘That's why I have to finish here first. You want me to dress up? No kidding!'
‘No dress code. I'm saying presents.'
‘I've given you one before, remember?'
‘The one you used to hit me on my face? Yes, I remember that one.'
‘Oy! It cost me an arm and a leg, you ungrateful bastard!'
‘How sweet! Shall I cry a river? What's taking you so long by the way? You've been working for ages.'
‘This thing is driving me crazy. I've no idea what it's talking about.'
‘Let me have a look.'
‘Excellent!' Gray cried,‘now I'm all set.'
‘Elementary,' said Mycroft at ease.‘Then let's move!'
It was fresh and chilly outside whereas people were of holiday cheer. Jingle Bells was heard all along the road, bringing people the mood.
‘Take my hand, take my heart, take my whole life too. Take your time, take my love, it's good and pure and true...'
‘You do love singing.'
‘And I do have a voice,' Greg bowed.‘Thank you very much.'
Mycroft would like to hold his laugh which was hard.‘Here we are!'
‘Holmes Palace, I'm coming!' called Greg.
‘Don't pretend new. You've been here once.'
‘To hit you face, I know. Yet I'd come all this way to say sorry while you were worrying to be seen at that moment!'
‘Just let it go. It's Christmas! C'mon, let me show you the house!'
‘Surely you will! Didn't get time that day.'
Two boys took a good look and Greg even had a chance to hold the newborn baby.‘He's so small and fragile! Has he a name?'
‘Sherlock.'
‘Old English?'
‘Yes.'
‘I see.'
‘Snowing!' said someone at the window. The boys moved over to find a white ground so they chose to go out.
‘Surely white Christmas,' laughed Greg, jumping around the yard.
‘Not yet. It takes time.'
‘Youuuu...'
‘Would you carry on singing?'
‘Pardon?'
‘The song on the way. You didn't finish it, did you? Continue.'
‘I knew you love my voice!' said Greg happily and began.‘The gift of love is hard to find. I've searched my whole life through. God above has smiled on us. This Christmas I got you...'
The smell of food was fading, so was the noise of the Ball. Mycroft was so into the scenery in front of him that he couldn't help kissing Greg on the cheek.
Everything went blank, so did the two. The last thought Greg had was not‘Good Lord Mycroft kissed me!', but‘Is it wet on my face?'.
‘Wot...en-hem! What was that for?' Greg found his voice dry.
‘Mistletoe!' answered Mycroft too fast.
The two looked around and finally saw mistletoe miles away. They both burst into laugh.‘Merry Christmas!' Greg kissed Mycroft back on the face. ‘Listen! I love this song! Let's get in.'
‘You know Portuguese?' said Mycroft, bravoing by heart.
‘No. But I know Lambada!'

CHAPTERSEVEN LES JOURNEES DE LA VIE
The twinsbecame individuals, which took them both quite a while to get used to. They took secondary education after the farewell, one in London,the other in Glasgow.Although it merely took five hours or so from King Cross to Central Station,the two never managed to visit each other. Schools, assignments, activities andfamilies.
Inorder not to end up as others' miserable long-distance friendships did, they madea decision to keep in touch in a very old-fashion way, the post. Every otherweek, they wrote letters to each other, talking about basically everything.
Asfor schools, the interesting or boring courses, the mild or tough teachers, aswell as the over-matured boys or girls.
Asfor families, Mycroft mentioned about his little brother as a hard nut to crackalong with his envy that Greg was the only child. Greg replied him saying thatto live with half a dozen of cousins under the same roof was far worse thandealing with le petit diable. Mycroft however insisted that Sherlock wascompletely and utterly as annoying as a whole dozen of relatives if not worse.
Asfor themselves, they simply sent pictures. Greg couldn't help laughingout loud when he saw the group photo of the Holmes brothers. Mycroft, smilingbig, was placing an arm around Sherlock's shoulder while the little one wasstaring at that very hand in a refusing manner, feeling like biting the hand inthe next second if it remained there.
Gregwas Greg as before, the kind fellow who was glad to help when people neededhim. He got stronger and taller in a very good shape. His dark hazel eyes werealways shining as bright as stars, full of emotion. As a bigger boy, Greg hadgot a clear clue that he ought to work hard for scores and his future eventhough Mycroft was no longer his tutor. Yet he kept groaning that no teachers didteaching as well as Mycroft had done, which pleased Mycroft vastly.
Mycroftnevertheless had grown up in another way. Reading a lot and being decent andpolite of course, yet he was sort of granted a sense of alienation. People haddifficulties to tell his actual feelings when Mycroft smiled or was silent.They considered him as hard to get along with as his brother, which yet didn'tbother Mycroft any more. He put another picture in an album specific for Greg,with all others he'd obtained by far.
"Perhapsit is what makes off Greg and me. He seems to have a gift to warm life up. In good days I enjoy the cheers with him. When blue I find themeaning of being together. Anyway I've got Greg, and that's it." He noted asso in the dairy.
Withtime going on, they were finally old enough to have their own mobiles todiscover a new means of contact. They sent text messages excitedly andphotographed oneself for the other. Greg was still vivid through the phone,sharing good and bad with his best fellow. Mycroft's voice was no longer ascute but graceful whereas once he had interactions with Greg it was completelynot the case.
"Gregis a shelter for me. I am myself in front of him, no need to try hard, as healways is in front of the world. I wish him to be the Greg for good, whose hopeis high. As he's got me he surely will be."

第七章 生活啊生活
形影不离变各自为战，两个人都用了好久才适应过来。分别之后他们都上了中学，一个在伦敦，一个在格拉斯哥。尽管从国王十字到中央车站只有五个多小时候的路程，两个人却从没能看望过对方。学校，功课，活动，还有家。
为了不跟别人的长距离友情一样惨淡收场，两人决定用最原始的方式保持联系，那就是邮件。每两周他们互相写一次信，差不多告诉对方一切。
关于学校，那些或有趣有枯燥的课程，或和气或严格的老师们，还有那些早熟的男生女生。
关于家庭，麦克劳夫特说他弟弟让他头疼得可以，非常羡慕格雷格是独生子。格雷格回信说和好几个堂兄妹挤在一个屋檐下，还不如和小恶魔打交道呢。麦克劳夫特则坚信，夏洛克绝对跟一打子亲戚加起来一样闹心，如果不是更闹心的话。
至于自己，他们就直接发照片了。看到福尔摩斯兄弟合影的时候，格雷格绷不住放声大笑。麦克劳夫特一只胳膊搂着夏洛克，笑得很开心。而弟弟一脸嫌弃地瞪着那只手，大有你不挪走我就咬上去的意思。
格雷格还是那个格雷格，在别人需要的时候热心帮忙。他变壮了变高了，身材很好。深棕色的眼睛总是如同星辰般闪亮，满是感情。长大了的格雷格很清楚，为了成绩和未来他得好好努力了，即使再也没有麦克劳夫特来教他了。但是他也一直在抱怨，说没人比麦克劳夫特教得更好，对此麦克劳夫特极度满意。
麦克劳夫特却在用另一种方式成长。还是读很多书，那么得体那么礼貌，但是却有了一种疏离感。他在笑或在沉默的时候，人们很难看透他真正的情绪。他们觉得他和他那个弟弟一样不好相处，不过麦克劳夫特根本不在意。又把一张照片放到了他专门为格雷格准备的相册里，和他现有的其它照片在一起。
“也许这就是格雷格和我的不同。他好像有种天赋，可以温暖一切。欢乐的日子里，我和他共享快乐。悲伤的日子里，我更能体会两个人的含义。不管怎么说，我已经有格雷格了，这就够了。”他在日记里写到。
再往后，他们终于到了可以拥有自己的手机的年龄，从而开发了新的联系方式。他们兴冲冲地发短信，自拍照片发给对方。格雷格隔着电话也那么活跃，跟他最好的伙伴分享一切好的坏的。麦克劳夫特的声音不再那么可爱，而是非常优雅。只是每次碰到格雷格，他就完全不够优雅了。
“对我而言，格雷格是一层保护。在他面前我可以做我自己而不用勉强，就像他在世人面前那样自在。我希望他一直都是这样的格雷格，充满希望。他一定会的，因为他也有我。”

第八章 重逢之日
已经七年了。格雷格在日历上画了一个圈，日子是分别之后的整年头。他又往后数了几周，又在一个日子上画了个星星。那是他们认识十周年的日子。
今年是毕业年。过去的七年里，他们完成了中级教育，通过了高等考试。多亏了各种通讯手段，他们都没有失去最要好的朋友。格雷格哼着歌，开心地又看了一遍日历。就快了。
“时光飞逝！”麦克劳夫特从没这么愉悦地写下了这句俗气的话。此时此刻没有任何事能烦恼到他，因为他很快就要再见到格雷格，和他在一起了。几天前他收到来自格雷格的好消息，他被大学录取了。当天晚些时候，麦克劳夫特用一个更棒的消息震惊了格雷格：他就要回伦敦了。
“早就告诉你伦敦最好了！现在你也这么觉得吧！”格雷格开心地喊着。
“是的，你总是对的。”麦克劳夫特微笑地说。
“我的学校也在伦敦哦。我们又能在一起了，真好！”
“我也迫不及待了。”
“啥时候？这个月么？要不要我去接你？”
“没那么快。你知道的，一家子。我和夏洛克估计会先到伦敦，学校什么的你看，其他人随后来。我想可能下个月吧。不过最关键的，我回来了！”
“赞！对了你有地方住么？跟我一起？”
“我想我家到时候都能安排好，但还是谢了。至少我们还有小别墅嘛。”
“小别墅！我爱死那里了！这些年在那里都很开心。”
“我知道，我知道。看到你那些照片了。真高兴你在那里很开心。”
“很快你就能看到我们一起在那里开心了！老天，我太高兴了！”
“一样的，格雷格，我也是。”
这通电话过后，一切照旧，只是这俩人都觉得日子比以往都长。格雷格每天都在倒数。老实说他也不确定麦克劳夫特是哪天回来，但他就觉得能是画星星那天。
那天就是明天了。格雷格把今天的日期画上叉叉，门口有人敲门。他起身开门，却看到一张笑眯眯的熟悉的脸。
“不是吧！”
“恩？”
“你怎么今天就来了？应该是明天！”
“呃，那真不好意思，日子错了？”
“当然！还没准备好呢。”
“不过你都在今天日子上画叉了，理论上说我也没错太多吧？”
“你咋知道的？”
“亲爱的，你还拿着笔呢。”
“天！”
“我们就这样在门口站着么？还是我明天再来？”
“啊，不好意思。快进来。你能找到这里真是奇迹。我说，你都离开伦敦好多年了不是么？好多东西变了。”
“总有一些是不变的。再说我对我的记忆力很有信心。”
“这倒是。看你头发就能看出来。”
“噢，别提了。难道你看不出来你没我高了么？”
“嘿，我一米八，够用了。”
“真是不好意思啊亲爱的，可我一米八五了。”
* * * *
格雷格说他被麦克劳夫特骗了。麦克劳夫特一头雾水不知道为什么。“就因为回来早了？”他问。格雷格却怪他给自己的照片具有欺骗性。“我怎么能看出来你都一米八了？还五！参照物还是夏洛克！”
-------------------------------------------------------
比屏蔽词更神奇的，就是无缘无故合并单词！
如果看到个别地方两个词之间没加空格，那就是又合并了= =
小穆不干这事儿；贴吧，你懂的！

‘But the musical. Tonight is the Tour, a concert or whatever.'
‘I don't think you're a fan of drama, are you?'
‘But you are. Pity my comic.'
Warming themselves by the fire, listening to the pitter-patter of the rain, the two were chatting about everything and nothing. Mycroft said some of the school and Greg had a lot to talk about D.I. Gregson.
‘All in all, one should buy rimmed glasses, at least half-rimmed. Rimless is such a pain when you're looking for glasses without wearing a pair.'
‘Was the Inspector mad about you lot? I reckon he is tough, isn't he?'
‘No, he ain't. Conventional though, nice to students. In fact he's quick and energetic, the smartest of the Scotland Yarders as they say. I do hope I could work with him in future.'
‘To hide his glasses again? I don't feel he will be as gentle once you're the colleague.'
‘So what? I like him a lot. Shame he's not gonna teach us next year. I'd say we should invite him more to give lectures. He's a good teacher.'
‘As good as I was?'
‘Aha, you remind me! Well actually not you but D.I. Gregson. His hair reminds me of you all the time. I keep wondering if you're like him when at his age.' said Greg, laughing. He was too high to stay on the cushion. He just lied down on the carpet.
‘Is my misery amusing you?' asked Mycroft, leaning closer to watch him from above.
‘Oh, shall I apologize?' said Greg, giggling.
The logs were burning briskly in the fire and the rain was knocking happily on the windows. Greg lied comfortably on the carpet with one thigh overlapping the other, eyes shining bright against the flame. All was inviting. Looking at the big smile, Mycroft lowered himself and kiss him. On lips.
‘What's this for?' asked Greg, eyebrows rising high.
‘Say, mistletoe?'
‘Not even winter.'
‘Then I'm leaving.'
‘Dare you!'
‘How about, I love you?' said Mycroft, lowering himself again. This time, he got feedback.

第十章 天都亮了
“太太太太太太太太太太对了！”这是此时此刻唯一在麦克劳夫特脑海里奔腾的句子，也是之后写满了日记的一句。疑虑、担心，还有负罪感，统统不见。当他看见那双变得更加明亮的眼睛的时候，麦克劳夫特知道他并不是一个人。
黎明时分，温暖灿烂。昨夜的雷雨很好地将一切洗刷如新。微风吹进没有关严的窗子，轻轻拂动了窗帘，带来了一阵大自然的清新。麦克劳夫特这辈子头一次，可以分辨出空气流动的色彩。
格雷格就在身边，安稳宁静地睡着。抱着他，感受到生命跃动的脉搏，麦克劳夫特有一种前所未有的真实感。他倾身凑近，亲吻了格雷格的额头，来证明这一切是真的，与此同时在内心感谢自己，没有让此刻成为遗憾。
睡着的就要醒来了。格雷格轻轻动了动放在麦克劳夫特肩膀上的头，麦克劳夫特不得不警告自己“淡定点儿！”。
“早上好。美好的一天，不是么？”麦克劳夫特轻声说。
格雷格几秒钟以后才意识到自己已经醒了，他笑着说：“美好的一天。”
室外的阳光过于灿烂，窗帘也无法将它拦住。光与影投射在屋子里，让一切变得温暖而梦幻。两人并不想动弹，就这么舒服地交谈着。
“你早就知道会这样的，是吧？”
“老实说，没有。”
“好像我会信似的。”
“好吧，我知道。”
“看！”
“你总是对的。”
“我当然是对的。告诉过你，十三又是星期五准没有好事儿。”
“它们毁了我们的计划，确实不怎么样。”
“还有我们的友谊。”
“什么？”
“你真觉得从今以后我们还是朋友？”
这是非常尴尬的一刻，时间和一切都凝固了。麦克劳夫特看向格雷格的眼睛，闪亮依旧却严肃，他想从中发现点儿什么来让自己安心。然后，他很开心地笑了。
“比朋友还要好。”
“恩，比朋友还要好。”格雷格笑眯眯地回应了。
清风带来树木沙沙的声音，偶尔还夹杂着潺潺的流水声。
“你想过这场景的吧？”
“我们么？是的。不确定什么时候，但是想过。为什么这样看着我？”
“难以置信啊。”
“嗯？”
“从没想过你会不规矩，想些乱七八糟的。”
“拜托，你才是不规矩的那个吧？”
“什么时候？”
“一直都是。‘主任这次来处理你。’‘你怎么敢往你班主任的包里放一堆毛毛虫！’”
“噢罗宾森太太！还有主任！我真该告他们毁我名声，是不是？”
“应该的，我支持你。再说，那也不是乱七八糟，现在也不是。”
“和想的一样？”
“大体一致小有不同。”
“好的不同？”
“再好不过了。”
太阳继续升高，光影在地板上变换着角度。两个人时而交谈，时而享受着宁静。最后他们决定弄点儿东西吃。
“谢天谢地是周末啊。不用上学，真开心。”格雷格边穿衣服边悠闲地说着，麦克劳夫特从后面望着他。他突然有了一个疯狂又极端的想法。
“那我们就这么呆着。不上学，不工作。就我们俩。”
“不可能！”格雷格大叫，显然他毫无思想准备。“我同意你说学校有时候很无聊。但是工作啊我说！”
“你知道的…”
“我不知道。你在说的是工作，让你在城里有钱有一席之地的工作。”
“我是说…”
“别说傻话了。这还是我认识的麦克劳夫特么，鬼上身了吧？你在担心个啥？”
“没什么，就是…”
“放轻松，伙计！好吧我不清楚你都有些什么顾虑，但是听着！你不是一个人。我罩着你，亲爱的！”格雷格说着，拍了拍麦克劳夫特的肩膀。
一语胜于千万，一瞬即为永恒。麦克劳夫特紧紧抱住格雷格，头埋在他的怀里。麦克劳夫特在心里承认他彻彻底底地错了。他自己才不是那个应该被感激的，要感谢的是格雷格。
“非常感谢他，感谢他允许我没有将此刻变成遗憾。”麦克劳夫特在他用同样一句话刷了整页日记后，又加了一句。
* * * *
“你真被惯坏了。”格雷格无奈地说，而麦克劳夫特笑眯眯：“这都是你的错。”这样的场景在几十年里上演了无数次，时不时还附带着闹心的画外音。“看在老天的份儿上，你们俩！这儿还有人呢！”

CHAPTER ELEVEN HAKUNA MATATA (No Worries)
All had changed. All had remained. All in all they were one, which was on top of everything. They kept in touch by phones during busy weekdays, and filled weekends with all sorts of activities. Some nights were the nights but they knew what meant the most to them.
‘I made it! I made it! It's Tobias! It's him!' called Greg excitedly, too loud for Mycroft to stay close to the phone.
‘Cool down, Greg. You're deafening me,' complained Mycroft, although he didn't sound so.
‘Sorry, man. I'm just too high,' said Greg, giggling.
‘I can hear that. Take a breath and now tell me what's happening.'
‘OK, here's the thing. I've got an intern in Scotland Yard and guess who is my boss?'
‘Must be someone amazing. The Tobias, I guess?'
‘Bingo! That's D.I. Gregson, my hero, man!'
‘Bravo, Greg! You're flying!'
‘Oh good monsieur, you've no idea.'
This was the last year of their colleges, the year before entering the real world. Mycroft put the mobile back to his pocket after the call and then autographed some document with a minor smile on his face. Greg was all set, now his turn.
Frankly speaking Mycroft himself was not a fan of politics since it had way much to do with human beings, whereas the only people he did care in the globe were countable by one hand. However things could become interesting if you watched them from another point of view. Men's thoughts, men's activities as well as interactions between one and another, all could be entertaining.
"Surely entertaining. To serve the country is the face and to make the hard choice is the core. Saying the Queen and loyalty is not quite my thing. I prefer the wording, to achieve a state of equilibrium among multiple parties. After all Greg is doing his best, tracking criminals down across the years under any circumstances. How could I be left behind?" According to Mycroft's page.
Another rainy day of London, which was routine. Yet not every Londoner was fully prepared no matter how long he had been in this city, for example, Inspector Lestrade. Sally Donovan, Sergeant in his team just now knocked the door to ask if he would like to carpool because of the rain. Greg however excused himself from the kind offer, saying extra hours, which was half of the actual reason.
‘Good evening, Inspector. '
‘May I help you, Monsieur?'
‘I would like to report a crime that somebody ignores weather reports.'
‘As you know Monsieur, there are storms we cannot weather.'
‘You surely weather I've got the umbrella, don't you?'
‘Of course, that's one of your advantages.'
‘Oh dear, you flattered me.'
The Mister Important, Mycroft, covered Greg and himself under a big black umbrella that he held everyday, smiling. After the unexpected rain on that you-know-which anniversary, Mycroft had tried so hard to make Greg mind the weather. Romance was good but health should be better. However neither that future nor this present Inspector had ever remembered to do so. Therefore the other had to take over the responsibility.
‘How is everything? You work late today.'
‘I'm in the Yard, no such thing as off duty.'
‘You make me feel shamed for having a light schedule today.'
‘You deserve a lighter one, Mycroft. You've looked tired for ages. I know you'll always make it as you've always done, but still.'
‘I'm fine, Greg. Don't worry about me too much.'
‘OK, not you, how about Anthea? The little girl deserves a good break.'
Anthea, assistant of Mycroft, couldn't hide herself in the background any more. She greeted and smiled to Greg, 'Thank you for your kind offer, Inspector. I'm glad with my status in quo and all fine.'
‘Don't push things as this man. He is mutated.'
‘Beg your pardon?'
‘Look at you and Sherlock, you've got genes beyond human's imagination. Marvelous brains I mean.'
‘I take it as compliment. Coming to Sherlock, is he doing well?'
‘Oh he is really into driving Anderson crazy.'
‘Hopefully your team will be used to him soon.'
‘You mean decades?'
‘There is still a way.'

CHAPTER TWELVE DU BON ET DU MAUVAIS
Greg never asked what Mycroft actually did at work initiatively. He used to be curious to death at the first place. However he soon realized that his curiosity had a chance to put them in trouble. Then he stopped. If Mycroft would like to say something about work, he'd listen patiently, such as Anthea the helpful assistant. Otherwise, Greg never wondered as he understood there must be a reason.
His super idol, D.I. Gregson had retired gracefully and after years of dedicated works Greg became the new leader. Life was perfect, according to Greg. A beloved career, an ideal Valentine, a lively family, a bunch of reliable colleagues, and Mycroft's little brother...
Mycroft's little brother...Greg sighed a heavy sigh. He had known Sherlock for over twenty years and till now, he was still not sure if this fellow had actually grown u****ot. This wonder had nothing to do with physical conditions. As for intelligence, God bless Great Britain! Yet somehow Greg had a feeling that was hard to tell. Now standing at the front gate of 221B Baker Street, Greg was about to visit this little brother.
It turned out only John home. John Watson, ex-army doctor, Sherlock's flatmate. Greg had been so glad to see such an opportunity for the little fellow to know how to deal with people in an average way. Experience however told him that John merely was another name on the 'Spoiling-Sherlock-Too-Much' list. After all Greg had to confess that he himself was on this list, too.
‘He's in Barts, some odd idea, you know.'
‘That's what makes Sherlock. He will somewhat scare me if he's one of us one day.'
‘You've got the point. Coffee?'
‘Tea, please. I don't need an alert mind since he's not in.'
‘Rare to see you in weekdays. I thought you're all day, every day.'
‘I actually am. But today rest.'
‘Not for the case?'
‘No, just closed a big one.'
‘The one Sherlock...you know.'
‘Yes, that one.'
‘I see.'
The conversation with John was apparently enjoyable, especially taking the Holmes brothers as topics. John had a vast of complaints about noises in the midnight, body debris scattered in the flat, and so on.
‘Nothing is gonna scare me after all those pieces, even Sherlock being a human if you ask me,' said John helplessly.
‘And my wall. I should have increased your rents, boy.'
‘Even mine? Please, Mrs. Hudson!' groaned John.
Mrs. Hudson, the landlady of 221B, joined the talk when she served them tea. FYI, she was also on the list. Greg showed a big smile, feeling cozy to have such afternoon tea. Mycroft was on a trip again somewhere that couldn't be told, making Greg the guardian of the boys.‘You'll like John's personality,' Mycroft was certain. Greg heartily admitted that John was a sweetheart and normal human being indeed. So was Mrs. Hudson.
‘Shan't have let you boys ever in,' she said, pretending serious.
‘Oh Ma'm, you know how thankful we are!' called John, giving Mrs. Hudson a hug. The landlady laughed out and left for her place.
‘How innocent I am!' said John to the beaming Greg.
‘Been there, trust me.'
‘Has he been like this for long?'
‘Oh dear, since day one.'
‘No wonder you're Inspector.'
‘You'd been in wars then.'
‘And I thought I'd seen the worst yet Sherlock's just proved me wrong. To be honest with you Greg, he's a machine at times.'
‘That's the Holmes. They can be sweet as long as they want to but they choose to be demons instead.'
‘I bet you're right. A man of mercy rarely comes out of him.'
‘That two siblings, they have personalities you either love or hate. But only can they do what they've done.'
‘A blessing or a curse?'
‘How about both?'
‘God bless them.'
‘God bless us too.'
* * * *
Sherlock yelled to his brother not to send baby-sitter anymore. Mycroft nevertheless simply ignored him completely. Dealing with the Holmes took guts, especially when oneself was sandwiched, which was well understood by Inspector Lestrade. However as long as you could handle the worst of them, you deserved the best.