Peaceful Daily Life

By the time John Wick entered the house, Helen was already sitting beside the dining table with Doro in her arms, feeding her orange slices.

Helen's movements were exceptionally gentle, as though she truly regarded Doro as her own daughter. Bathed in sunlight, she seemed to radiate an almost sacred maternal glow.

Under that glow, even the usually lively and restless Doro had quieted down. She swung her soft little feet as she waited for Helen to feed her. Though orange juice covered the corners of her mouth, she still wore an obedient little smile.

The sight made John Wick's heart tremble for who knew how many times. The way he looked at Doro and Helen grew ever gentler.

Because of Helen's illness back then, Sherlock had saved her, but it had also cost her the ability to become a mother.

Doro's appearance seemed to have fulfilled the dreams of both John Wick and Helen, which was the main reason the couple adored her so much.

After feeding Doro an entire orange, Helen gently wiped her mouth clean, picked her up, and placed her in John Wick's arms. Then she glared at him threateningly.

"Keep an eye on Doro. I'm going to cook. Don't forget to call Sherlock over for lunch! That brat is probably buried in his messy alchemy again, which is why he let Doro run around."

Faced with Helen's threat, like a mother hen protecting her chick, even John Wick, the God of Killing, could only avoid the edge of her wrath. Holding Doro, he nodded at Helen.

Only after receiving John Wick's assurance did Helen reveal a satisfied smile and head toward the kitchen. John Wick carried Doro into the living room, and the two began to play.

Doro might have been tiny, and her appearance was admittedly a little abstract, but there was no denying that her speed and agility were absolutely first-rate. John Wick had discovered that long ago.

Take dodgeball, for example. Even if John Wick drew on all the skills he had honed as an assassin, he still could not get the little sandbag to touch Doro even once.

Perhaps she had inherited Sherlock's personality. Every time she won a game, the expression Doro gave John Wick would inexplicably make him furious.

Even so, John Wick would only curse Sherlock in his heart for leading Doro astray. He would never show Doro any other negative emotion.

Of course, that did not mean there was no effect at all. For instance, John Wick now basically never played any physically demanding games with Doro.

After watching TV with Doro all morning, John Wick saw that it was about time. He picked Doro up and headed toward Sherlock's house.

After opening Sherlock's front door, John Wick followed Doro's guidance toward the study. The instant he pushed open the study door, even though he had prepared himself mentally, he was still so shocked by the sight before him that he could not speak.

In the middle of the room, an exceptionally beautiful and luxurious-looking spear floated quietly in midair. Its surface was covered in all sorts of formations and multicolored runes.

Sherlock's mechanical left arm had completely transformed into an alchemical tool. More than a dozen slender mechanical arms, as nimble as tentacles, struck the spear again and again. Each collision produced a blinding flash, after which the runes and formations on the spear changed.

As for Sherlock himself, he seemed completely unaffected by the eye-searing light and the runes and formations floating around the spear.

Before Sherlock lay the enormous alchemical grimoire, still open and constantly turning its pages. As he searched through it, he used his right hand together with the mechanical arms on his left to form one formation and rune after another, merging them into the spear.

"No matter how many times I see it, it still leaves me awestruck and longing."

Watching Sherlock immersed in alchemy and the flashes of light unique to it, John Wick could not help sighing.

Sherlock, who had been working, seemed to have been affected by John Wick's unconscious remark. A burst of sparks suddenly erupted from the spear, and all the dazzling runes and formations vanished in an instant without a trace. Only the spear slowly drifted down onto the table.

Startled by the sudden change, John Wick looked toward Sherlock with some embarrassment.

"Sorry. Did I disturb you?"

Hearing John Wick's voice, Sherlock finally shifted his investigating gaze away from the spear and toward him.

The moment he saw John Wick holding Doro, Sherlock immediately understood. He closed the book in his hands, stood up, and said to John Wick, "It's fine. It has nothing to do with you. Repairing a divine artifact is difficult. Failure is normal. Still, thanks for watching Doro for me, my dear Zhao Wick."

The first few sentences had been perfectly normal, but Sherlock just had to add "Zhao Wick" at the end in that irritating tone. John Wick's embarrassed expression instantly turned into one of gritted teeth.

"Sherlock Flamel! I'll say this one more time: even if you translate it into China's language, my name is John Wick, not fucking Zhao Wick!"

Yet Sherlock showed not the slightest panic in the face of the increasingly furious John Wick. He still wore that infuriating grin.

"Okay, Zhao Wick. I understand, Zhao Wick. Is there anything else, Zhao Wick?"

Faced with Sherlock picking a fight right in his face, John Wick held it in for a long time before finally helplessly punching Sherlock in the shoulder and cursing irritably.

"Son of a bitch!"

Then he lowered his head with a gentle smile and spoke to Doro in his arms.

"Come on, little Doro. Let's go eat something delicious. We won't bother with your unreliable third-rate dad!"

With that, he carried Doro out of the room without looking back.

Seeing the unusual gentleness John Wick showed Doro, as well as the sugary voice he was practically pitching to the heavens, Sherlock rubbed at the nonexistent goosebumps on his body with a look of disgust.

He raised a towering middle finger at John Wick's retreating back before lifting his foot to follow after him.

After living together for so many years, Sherlock had long understood exactly what John Wick and Helen were thinking and what they meant. Naturally, he would not misunderstand John Wick's intention.

So, although John Wick had not said it directly, Sherlock shamelessly followed behind him to sample Helen's cooking.

After all, ever since Sherlock had cooked the two of them a home-style Chinese meal, Helen had fallen deeply in love with Chinese food. Her skills had long surpassed Sherlock's, a Chinese transmigrator, and she had become a true master chef.

From then on, Sherlock had developed an immense enthusiasm for freeloading meals. After all, the white people food he used to eat had been rather hard to swallow.