King's Cross Station
Sherlock raised his hand and lightly brushed his right cheek where Hermione had kissed him. The touch was delicate and brief, as if it had left an invisible shallow imprint on his face.
His fingertips seemed to retain a trace of warmth belonging to Hermione, carrying her body heat.
Sunlight streamed through the station's glass dome, illuminating his gaze as he looked at Hermione.
Even so, his gray eyes remained their usual calm, like a still, deep pool without ripples.
Only his eyebrows arched upward slightly, betraying a hint of barely perceptible inquiry.
"It seems Gemma told you?"
Despite having just been kissed on the cheek by a young girl in public, his voice was as steady as if he were discussing the weather.
"What are you talking about?"
Hermione had already learned from Gemma about Sherlock's reaction after being kissed by her.
With that psychological preparation, she wasn't surprised by Sherlock's current calm response.
However, upon hearing Sherlock's question, she began playing dumb.
What Gemma?
What told?
I don't know anything!
Yet Hermione had forgotten one thing.
In front of Sherlock, any lie was as transparent as glass, with nowhere to hide.
Moreover, she was different from others.
Sherlock was familiar with every aspect of her, down to the smallest detail.
Of course, from Hermione's perspective, there was another reason—she was somewhat flustered.
The boy who had been kissed by a girl wasn't flustered, but the girl who had kissed the boy was.
This seemed absurd, yet was perfectly normal.
Because the boy who had been kissed was Sherlock Holmes.
Because the girl who had kissed the boy harbored an even more secret thought in her heart:
If it were possible.
If people weren't coming and going all around.
If their parents and Sherlock's family weren't watching with smiles from not far away.
What she actually wanted to kiss was a place that would express a more intimate relationship.
Rather than, like Gemma, merely kissing Sherlock's cheek.
Precisely because Gemma had kissed Sherlock's left cheek, she had deliberately chosen the right side.
Unfortunately... there were no ifs.
She couldn't do it.
Being able to publicly kiss Sherlock had already exhausted the courage she'd been accumulating for so long; even her fingertips were trembling slightly.
At this moment, just standing here, recalling that hasty yet determined kiss, her heart felt like it would leap out of her chest.
"I think you must have planned this together."
Sherlock chuckled softly, his tone carrying a knowing quality as he looked at Hermione:
"She kissed my left cheek, but you just kissed my right."
This statement should have been somewhat ambiguous, but coming from Sherlock's mouth, it was merely precise. Where was the ambiguity?
Not only was it not ambiguous, but it was like a lightning bolt that shattered the shell of courage Hermione had worked so hard to gather.
The composure she had deliberately maintained on her cheeks was instantly replaced by a burning blush, even her ears began turning slightly red.
"Sherlock, I—I don't know what you're talking about!"
Hermione's voice wavered slightly.
Her toes unconsciously pressed against the ground.
She didn't dare look directly into Sherlock's gray eyes that seemed to see through everything.
So, she could only let her gaze frantically shift past his shoulder toward her parents.
However, she discovered that her mother's smile looked too happy!
As for her father... his expression seemed somewhat complicated?
"Hey, good afternoon, you two!"
The eagerly anticipated parents didn't appear in time.
Instead, Mrs. Holmes appeared beside Sherlock and Hermione at just the right moment.
She wore a beige trench coat, her face bearing a bright smile that bordered on relief.
Her gaze swept over her son's right cheek where Hermione had kissed him, then landed on Hermione's flushed face, her smile deepening.
It was a kind of relief that came from setting down a long-held worry.
"Are you discussing something interesting?"
Mrs. Holmes asked knowingly, her voice carrying a comforting warmth.
She naturally placed one hand lightly on her son's shoulder.
As his mother approached, Sherlock relaxed slightly for a moment.
Mrs. Holmes's other hand quite naturally wrapped around Hermione's still-warm shoulder, half-sheltering her at her side.
"That was such a lovely scene just now, wasn't it—youth is wonderful!"
Hermione quickly spoke: "Hello, Mrs. Holmes."
Perfect, Mom... no, Sherlock's mom came at just the right time!
Mrs. Holmes gently patted Hermione, that intimacy instantly dispelled much of Hermione's embarrassment.
"Indeed, quite an impressive scene."
A somewhat deep but gentle male voice came—it was Mr. Granger.
After Mrs. Holmes took the initiative, he couldn't stand back any longer and hurried over.
Only now, the smile on his face was somewhat professional, as if he were trying even harder than when receiving patients at the clinic.
His gaze lingered on Hermione with affection, but when it turned to Sherlock, it became sharp and complex, full of scrutiny.
No one knows a child better than their father.
Hermione was intelligent and had her own opinions, but whenever she was in front of Sherlock, she always seemed like a different person.
Especially that proactive kiss just now.
As a father, even if he rationally knew this was just an expression of youthful friendship, he couldn't help but feel the sour sensation.
This feeling surged up irrepressibly, though he ultimately suppressed it, not letting it show too obviously.
But when meeting Sherlock's eyes, that brief pause and his slightly pressed lips still revealed a hint of his inner turmoil.
Just then, Mrs. Granger followed quickly with an enthusiastic smile.
Always open-minded, her gaze toward Sherlock was completely different from Mr. Granger's—she looked at him as if he were her own child.
"Hey, Sherlock! You're looking quite well!
How was this school year? Hermione mentioned quite a few of the little troubles you solved together in her letters."
She deliberately emphasized the word "together," her eyes glinting with a mischievous light.
"That lovely scene just now really warmed our parental hearts."
She made no effort to hide her fondness for Sherlock, or her approval of Hermione taking the initiative to kiss him.
Her gaze even carried a hint of satisfaction—as if thinking, "My girl has such good taste."
"Happy holidays, Mr. and Mrs. Granger."
Sherlock nodded slightly, his etiquette was impeccable, as if he hadn't just been kissed.
His gaze lingered for half a second on the barely perceptible complex expression on Mr. Granger's face.
Mr. Granger's hidden discomfort naturally didn't escape Sherlock's observation.
But Sherlock didn't understand why Mr. Granger would have such feelings toward him.
This scene felt familiar.
"It's just a kiss on the cheek, is it really such a big deal?"
Sherlock tilted his head, finding it somewhat incomprehensible.
As for his mother's overly enthusiastic relief, he seemed quite accustomed to and accepting of it.
Mr. Holmes finally walked over, standing beside his wife.
At this moment, his lips also bore a rare but genuine faint smile.
He didn't look at Sherlock's cheek, but swept his son over with a meaningful gaze, then nodded at Hermione,
"You must be tired from the journey. Hermione, thank you for looking after Sherlock at school. He didn't give you any trouble, did he?"
"Not at all! Hermione relied entirely on Sherlock's care at school."
Mrs. Granger responded with a smile, affectionately linking her arm with her still-embarrassed daughter's, giving it a gentle squeeze.
After an exchange of mutual compliments, a small circle formed on the platform.
Both mothers wore warm and meaningful smiles, their gazes shuttling back and forth between Sherlock and Hermione, the air filled with a tacit and pleasant atmosphere.
The Holmes couple's gazes met, Violet blinking lightly at Tarquin, conveying unspoken joy.
Their worry about Sherlock following in Mycroft's footsteps seemed to have dissipated because of Hermione's brave gesture just now.
Mr. Granger quietly took a deep breath.
He looked at his daughter, who was sheltered between Mrs. Holmes and his wife, her cheeks still had a rosy tinge.
Then he looked at that boy who was always so calm, unlike his peers, noticing his complete lack of awkwardness about the subtle atmosphere around them.
This extraordinary rationality diluted some of Mr. Granger's sour feeling about his daughter being led away.
But he still couldn't help clearing his throat, trying to steer the conversation back to everyday matters, "Ahem, so, do you have any plans for the holiday? Sherlock."
"I'm planning them now, Mr. Granger."
Sherlock's gaze returned, looking at Hermione's father. "If all goes as expected, it should involve enhancing my personal qualities and exploring truth.
Of course, I'll also ensure sufficient rest time."
His answer was as logically clear as always.
Hermione couldn't help muttering quietly: "The definition of 'sufficient rest time' is likely very different from us ordinary people..."
Her voice wasn't loud, but it drew simultaneous light laughter from both mothers.
Mr. Granger looked at the boy's serious expression and his daughter's helpless yet habitually complaining tone, and finally relaxed his pressed lips.
A resigned-looking smile appeared on his face.
"That's good. Studies are important, but you should also enjoy the holiday."
He extended his hand, finally saying these words and patting Sherlock's shoulder.
Seeing this, Mrs. Holmes's smile became even brighter.
"Alright, the children just got off the train and must be tired. Let's not stand here any longer.
There's plenty of time to get together during the holiday. Sherlock, say goodbye to Hermione."
Sherlock turned to Hermione as instructed, his tone as usual, as if that kiss had never happened,
"Goodbye, Hermione."
"Go—goodbye, Sherlock." Hermione tried to make her voice sound natural. "Have a pleasant holiday."
The two families bid each other farewell and walked in different directions on the platform.
Mrs. Holmes linked her arm with her husband's, unable to suppress the smile at her lips, sighing quietly.
"It seems our dear Sherlock has finally come around?
Or rather, that Miss Granger has really done us a great favor!"
Mr. Holmes's smile also deepened.
He looked back just as Mr. Granger, pushing luggage, glanced in their direction, and he waved in greeting.
Once the family was settled and he had steadily started the car, driving along the road, he couldn't help but ask: "Sherlock, how did you feel after being kissed by Hermione?"
"Nothing much," Sherlock said calmly. "Isn't it a perfectly normal thing?"
"Normal? How can this be considered normal?"
Mrs. Holmes suddenly realized something. "Don't tell me this wasn't your first time..."
"How could that be?"
Mr. Holmes laughed. "Looking at little Hermione just now, you could tell it was definitely her first time."
"Well, that's true..."
"It wasn't my first time."
"What?"
"What!"
The couple were both shocked.
Especially Mr. Holmes—he simply pulled the car to the side of the road and stopped before turning to look at Sherlock in the back seat.
"Say that again?"
"I said, this wasn't my first time."
Under the shocked gazes of the Holmes couple, Sherlock said calmly and composedly: "Just last night, Gemma also kissed my cheek at school—the left side."
"You both seem very surprised?"
Sherlock tilted his head and finally said the words he'd wanted to say but hadn't had the chance to: "It's just a kiss on the cheek, is it really such a big deal?"
Of course it was!
Mr. Holmes had just said Hermione was definitely having her first time.
He hadn't expected that while Hermione was indeed having her first time, their son wasn't!
Gemma Farley—the image of a beautiful and elegant young girl simultaneously appeared in both their minds.
She had actually beaten Hermione to it?
Well done!
Ahem
But...
Mr. and Mrs. Holmes exchanged glances, both suddenly realizing something important.
Although two young girls had already taken the initiative to clearly express their affection for Sherlock.
Their son, however, was a complete blockhead!
"Sherlock, you..."
Mrs. Holmes especially felt like she was about to die of frustration with her son.
Did a girl really have to pin him against a wall and kiss him on the lips before he'd understand what this meant?
On the other side, Mrs. Granger linked arms with Hermione, in excellent spirits discussing holiday plans.
Mr. Granger walked beside them, was silently pushing the luggage.
His gaze lingered on his daughter for a long time, finally transforming into a deep, tender light.
He instinctively looked back, and the Holmes family was just getting into their car.
Tarquin noticed his gaze and waved at him in a friendly manner.
Mr. Granger withdrew his gaze and began quietly convincing himself.
Well, if it must be this way...
At least that boy was excellent enough, and he was someone who could make Hermione brave enough to take the initiative.
He tightened his grip on the luggage handle, feeling that heavy yet sweet sense of responsibility.
It was obviously far too early to discuss these things; the road ahead was still long.
For these two fourteen or fifteen-year-old teenagers, their story had just turned to a new chapter.
Mr. Granger took a deep breath of the station air that seemed to carry the smell of coal smoke, and finally smiled with relief.
In any case, at least Hermione appeared brave and happy.
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