Sherlock - The Game Is On!

The Reichenbach Falls- Two

Chapter Two

221B Baker Street - Midday

Johns sitting on the sofa reading the papers while Sherlock, wearing his blue dressing gown over his shirt and trousers, stomps across the room and throws the Daily Star onto the pile of newspapers on the coffee table. Where as I, I was making tea. " 'Boffin.' 'Boffin Sherlock Holmes.' "

"Everybody gets one."

"One what?" I asked walking through. "Tabloid nickname: 'SuBo'; 'Nasty Nick.' Shouldn't worry I'll probably get one soon."

"You've got one. Page five, column six, first sentence." I deadpanned. John turns to the relevant page. Sherlock goes over to the fireplace, picks up the deerstalker, holds it up and punches it angrily. "Why is it always the hat photograph?"

" 'Bachelor John Watson'?" I took to sit on the edge of Sherlock's chair. "What sort of hat is it anyway?"

" 'Bachelor'? What the hell are they implying? The press aren't sure whether to call you Lady Phillips or Lady Holmes." I snorted with comment, whilst Sherlock held up the hat, twisting it back and forth rapidly. "Is it a cap? Why has it got two fronts?"

"It's a deerstalker, my darling."

"Frequently seen in the company of bachelor John Watson..." John rambled on. "You stalk a deer with a hat? What are you gonna do, throw it?" I fall on the chair laughing. "Oh my god... Sherlock."

"Confirmed bachelor John Watson!"

"Some sort of death frisbee?" Sherlock straightens up. "Sherlock... Stop. I can't breathe." I spoke in between laughs. "Okay, this is too much. We need to be more careful."

"It's got flaps... Ear flaps. It's an ear hat, Michelle." He then accurately skims the hat across the room to John, who doesn't have to do more than bend his wrist to catch it. "What do you mean, 'more careful'?"

"I mean this isn't a deerstalker now; It's a Sherlock Holmes and Michelle Phillips hat. I mean that you're not exactly a private detective any more." He holds his thumb and forefinger an inch apart. "You're this far from famous. That goes for the both of you."

"Oh, it'll pass." Sherlock lifts me up from his chair effortlessly before slumping down cradling me in his arms and nuzzling his head into my side. "It'd better pass. The press will turn, Sherlock. They always turn, and they'll turn on you." Sherlock lifts his head from the crook of my neck and looks more closely at John. "It really bothers you. What people say."

"Yes."

"About me? I don't understand, why would it upset you?" John holds his gaze for a moment, then looks away. "Gee, I've never seen so much sexual tension between two grown men. You sure you don't want him, John?" I asked during the silence. Sherlock's head snaps towards me I turn to look at him, before he says anything I skim my nose gently across his. John uncomfortably coughs. "Just try to keep a low profile. Find yourselves  a little case this week. Stay out of the news."

Third POV

Tower of London - 11:00

Tourists walk about in the grounds, looking around, talking to the Beefeaters, taking photographs. One tourist wearing jeans, trainers, a light grey jacket and a cap with 'London' printed on it and with a union flag on the peak is aiming his camera phone around and taking pictures like all the others, but this person appears to be more interested in the security staff than anything else. The other thing that piques his interest is the sign pointing the way to the Crown Jewels. He lowers his camera, chewing nonchalantly on a piece of gum, and we see that this is none other than Jim Moriarty.