Watson: How many times have I mistaken passers-by for you? Even one of those various people could be you. But every time I stop, I look back, I gaze, I doubt, I know in the end that those are not you, those are not you, none of them are you. Where will you stop and look back? I have guessed a thousand times, and finally no longer doubt everyone who passes by me. But you appear in front of me like this, and you say hello, my friend. But who are you? You are not the Sherlock in my heart. The Sherlock in my heart only exists in my heart, he is not in my world.
Sherlock: I stand by your side because you said you hoped that I would be the one standing by your side at this important moment. Of course I want to stand by your side at this important moment, but I want to stand in front of you, not next to you. I want to hear you say I am willing, but I don't want to just look at you and watch you put that ring that symbolizes everything on someone else's finger. Finally, I was too late.
The sun shone into the living room on the second floor of 221B Baker Street as usual. Sherlock walked into the living room with his messy curly hair. The sunshine had a warm smell. He stood for a long time holding his empty cup. Suddenly, he turned his head and saw Watson looking at him with a strange look. Sherlock asked in surprise, "Watson, why are you here?" Watson said, I have nowhere to go. Sherlock said oh, but he was still thinking about the reason for Watson's surprised look. A gust of wind blew up from downstairs, and Sherlock was surprised to realize that he likes to sleep naked recently.
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