Finally, he finally understood Watson's intention to make up the story. In those stories, the bad guys are punished and the good guys are comforted, with only wonderful reasoning and happy endings.
But reality and human nature are always elusive.
So he wrote back to Mr. Mei Qi and said what he wanted to hear.
So he faced the sea in front of the white cliffs of Dover, put down the stones representing the deceased one by one, and paid tribute to those who left warmth in his rational life.
Loneliness accompanies every breath, but behind the wall of death is a self-deception reunion.
There were Mrs. Hudson's whining, Mycroft's disgusting look, Lestrade's bewildered face in the fading memory.
And Watson smiled at him at the end of the light.
Those exciting cases, treacherous adventures, and incomparably clear details have brewed a wine called nostalgia and sadness in the years, making him ecstatic.
He was repulsed by the sudden loneliness, and Mrs. Hudson wrote to Watson, who came in a hurry, decorated the sad story as another adventure, and hid the glove quietly, not wanting to make him sad.
They didn't say goodbye.
At the end of the story, the mother and son left together, leaving him to face the sea alone.
At that moment, there was a sea breeze blowing, and I wonder if it was the murmur of an old friend.
View more about Mr. Holmes reviews
