"Sherlock, Sherlock, one look please. Sherlock this way! Sherlock…." This had become a daily occurrence, nightmare being a better word. News reporters were being slowly outnumbered by paparazzi outside 221B, waiting for a snap of the most famous man in England as of now. Belstaff coats were being produced again on demand, the Deerstalker was seen everywhere. Sherlock clones were seen roaming around London all the time.
Sherlock almost missed the Moriarty brother with a vengeance and wished he was back! The coverage of how the Consulting Detective had proved himself invaluable and was the main brains behind taking down Moriarty had made his star rise and now he was being hounded like movie stars.
The frequency of his using Molly's flat as a bolt hole was so high now, she was almost of half mind to ask him to pay her rent! Well, at the least, food money. The man didn't eat much on a case but was a non-stop chewing machine when things were not too tense.
Right now he was wondering whether he should just up and move in with her, the reporters were getting on his nerves so much.
"Sherlock are you off for a case? Are you off to see your girlfriend? Are you off to meet your boyfriend? You have a lover? Sherlock, do you miss John now? Don't you want John back in 221B? Sherlock, do you like Mary? Is that your child or Johns?"
The last question caused him to turn suddenly and approach the man who had asked that question.
"What did you say?"
When faced with Sherlock's thunderous look, there were barely a few people who could string two thoughts together. The reporter was far from any of them.
He could barely manage to string together two syllables.
"Don't ask me personal questions. You forget that I need not ask you questions about your sorry lives to know the answers. I can read all the sordid details and air them out. You and your boss's.
"I catch criminals, help put them behind bars. I am not a friendly man, so chaps, back off. You don't want me pissed at you and you definitely don't want me to get on my wrong side. You know what happens when someone does that.
"Stick to the cases. Print whatever versions you want, I couldn't care less. You may also find some answers or more ingredients at NSY. But don't ask me what I ate for lunch, what I wear or whom I meet. The cases are for your perusal, not my life behind these doors.
"Consider that as a polite request. I don't request twice. Do not cross my path. Leave me alone, and stop bothering my friends and clients. And disturbing my landlady will also be taken as intrusions into my private life. Know what is good for you and back off!"
Sherlock ended this with his most insincere smile, which frankly was a scary sight. He could be scary and then downright frightening when he wanted to be. He left with a swirl of his coat.
It was sometime before the reporter could reply. But the rest could see through his bravado. And boy were they glad that they had not been at the receiving end of Sherlock's anger.
They knew, you messed with some people, and you just didn't with some. No points for guessing in which category their current target fell. So though the photographers didn't reduce overnight, the questions being thrown at Sherlock to incite any reaction definitely did. They didn't want Sherlock on their tails. And thankfully, they didn't even know about the older Holmes brother, who could be their worst nightmare if he so desired. And boy, was Mycroft tempted to make an example of some of those paparazzi.
Sherlock could barely hold a straight face as he walked away. He had wanted to say those things for quite some time. He hoped he didnt over act. He could almost see the expression on John's face when details of his "address" were printed in tomorrow's papers.
If he was going to be called a drama queen constantly, well, he was definitely going to give a performance, Sherlock grinned and walked on.