Bruce had heard the news. Everyone had.
Sherlock Holmes was dead.
News traveled very fast between Bruce and the rest of them, especially news of that sort. Most were devastated when they found out.. They all had respected him. He was… different, from all the rest. He didn't sneer at them, pity them, or stare at them like they were trash. He treated them like the human beings they were, and even paid them to do jobs for him.
So when Bruce read the newspapers, he was outraged.
Fake. Fraud. Sherlock Holmes made it all up to get attention.
Bruce could hear people as he walked by them, whispering about it at cafes and street corners and bus stops. He was having a hard time keeping himself from strangling anyone who believed in that rubbish. How could they possibly believe it? How could anyone make all of that up? All you needed to do was see the man in action and you would know that it was genuine.
Bruce knew. And he was going to do something about it.
He gathered a couple of his mates together and told them the plan. It was simple enough, they just had to make sure they weren't caught. Soon enough, his mates told others, who told more people, and soon it was spreading like wildfire.
Spray painted on buildings. Scribbled on benches and inside of buses and on tables. Flyers pinned to every billboard and lamp post in reach.
Bruce was lucky enough to see John's reaction when he first saw it. It was the riskiest one he had done yet, and awfully difficult, but it was worth it. He had spray painted the entire street in front of 221B. In big bright yellow letters was written:
I BELIEVE IN SHERLOCK HOLMES
John had glanced at it for a second before looking away. Then his head snapped back to stare as if he had just comprehended what it said. Bruce figured his lower jaw would fall off from how far it had dropped. Slowly, John's lips curved into a truly genuine smile, the first one since that awful day. The city had it cleaned up in a day, but to Bruce, it was worth it. Even when he was arrested after the fact. He hadn't stayed locked up long anyways- he was out just an hour later. He didn't know the well dressed man who had paid his bail. When Bruce had tried asking for his name, he had just smiled at him before walking away, an umbrella twirling in his hand.