A/N: School's starting (collective groan) which means updates will be slower. Endless love to the people who are giving this story their continued support.

RUMOURS

"Well, if it isn't London's favourite power couple?" Donovan quipped as they got to the scene. They were standing around a steep precipice overlooking the Thames. Normally this wasn't the type of case that Sherlock would take, it being questionable if there was any foul play involved at all, but Sherlock had spent the week barricaded in his room solving a cold case that had been eluding him and John had agreed to stop pestering him about taking out the rubbish if he agreed to take the first thing Lestrade handed him. Though he wasn't quite as destructive about it, John did in fact get as bored as Sherlock from time to time.

"Yes, lovely, could we skip the cute banter today? I've got a headache," Sherlock admit, scowling darkly. He'd essentially turned his bedroom into a dark room in order to deal with fluorescent paints, and John could see that he was still struggling to adjust to the brightness of daylight.

Donovan rolled her eyes and stalked off. Sherlock wandered off in the direction of the crime scene, not bothering to see if John would follow, as invariably, he would and he did.

"Why is that you never correct people who believe that we're gay?" John asked, a bit perturbed.

"Why on earth would I waste my breath doing that? I can hardly find the desire to continue this conversation, John." He hadn't looked up from examining a thread caught on a bramble through his pocket magnifying glass.

"Because we're not! I think I'd have noticed if we were. I'm having enough trouble trying to diffuse the rumours, but your silence in the matter is making it seem like we're just closeted!"

"John," Sherlock finally looked up, but only for a moment to give him a disapproving glance. "For the record, you vehemently denying a sexual relationship makes it seem like you're hiding something. And I don't know how I could have made it any more clear to you that I have absolutely no interest in the least in what people think of me."

"Oh, that's rubbish and you know it," John scoffed. "You preen around like a peacock in those expensive designer clothes. That coat alone must have cost you a grand…"

"Yes, well, I don't think clients would be very interested in entrusting me with cases if I were wearing jeans and t-shirts."

"You're constantly frustrated by how much attention my blog gets and how little your website does…"

Sherlock moved to examine a footprint and John could tell just how much he was getting to his flatmate by the way his shoulders were stiffening. "Clients, John! Perhaps you've brought in more cases, but the level of sheer drivel I have to sit through! 'My wife is cheating on me,' 'my maid is stealing from me'. It's beyond aggravating. You make me out to be some kind of bloody celebrity. If you don't want people speculating about the nature of our relationship than you shouldn't have brought so much attention to it in the first place!"

John clicked his tongue. He knew Sherlock enjoyed his celebrity status, if not the fallout that came with it. His pride was keeping him from admitting it, but John knew better.

"Yes, well that brings me to my final argument. Quite damning, and I'll be interested in hearing you talk your way out of this one."

Sherlock turned and gave him a glowering look, as always knowing just what John was thinking.

He brought his hands up to his face in aggravation. "Yes, of course. The bloody hat. That ridiculous thing, I swear, if you bring it up once more I will take swift revenge, and you will rue the day you ever laid eyes on it."

"Rue the day… who even talks like that?" John smirked, and almost thought better of taunting him further. "What say you then? You don't care what anyone thinks of you. Why do you care so much about the now iconic Sherlock Holmes hat?"

Sherlock stood up straight, narrowed his eyes to slits, and turned towards where Lestrade and Donovan were standing. A very quick flit of the eyebrows in his direction and John knew he was saying "I warned you." He gave an inward shudder at the thought, never truly being on the receiving end of Sherlock's ire before.

"Case solved. She was walking her dog when they came upon a feral cat. Her dog took off after it and she slipped in the mud and fell down into the ravine. Even you idiots should have been able to figure that out…

"I've got to be off to Barts. Molly's got a fresh stiff with a fascinating necrotizing fasciitis eating into its penis." There was a collective wince all around and Sherlock turned towards John with a pleasant look on his face. "John… I'll see you back at the flat." He stooped down and before John could stagger back, kissed him full on the mouth before trotting off. "Tootles…"

John balked, looking up at the stunned team with horror.

"No, no! It was a joke! He was…" but a hum of chatter had broken out and John knew it was too late. He heard Sally Donovan's cry of triumph and watched as basically the entire congregation began exchanging money.

A buzzing from his pocket alerted him to a text and he scowled down at the screen, imagining Sherlock's cheeky face.

Start Ruing.