"Falls of the Reichenbach, Turner's masterpiece, thankfully recovered owing to the prodigious talent of Mr. Sherlock Holmes," said the director of the gallery as he finish his speech. The audience applauds while Sherlock, John, and Scarlett are standing nearby. The director goes up to Sherlock and gives him a gift, "A small token of our gratitude."

Sherlock takes the box and looks at it, "Diamond cufflinks. All my cuffs have buttons," he uttered.

John smiles at the director, "He means thank you."

Sherlock looks at John, "Do I?"

"Just say it," Scarlett hissed at him as she gave the director a fake smile.

Sherlock tolled his eyes and looks at the director, "Thank you," he said with insincerely.

He starts to walk away but John and Scarlett holds him back. Sherlock stops unwillingly as the press start taking photographs.

Couple days later, the three found them outside at the banker's house, the rescued man standing with his arms around his family as the press photographs them while the three stands uncomfortably nearby.

"Back together with my family after my terrifying ordeal; and we have one person to thank for my deliverance – Sherlock Holmes," said the banker. The public applaud the banker's son smiles and hands a gift to Sherlock. Sherlock takes the gift and started to shake it, "Tie pin. I don't wear tie pins."

"Ssh," John hissed at him.

The three now found themselves at Scotland Yard where Lestrade is addressing a press conference. Sherlock, John, and Scarlett stand nearby.

"Peter Ricoletti: number one on Interpol's Most Wanted list since nineteen eighty-two. But we got him; and there's one person we have to thank for giving us the decisive leads ... with all his customary diplomacy and tact," Lestrade joked.

Sherlock smiles insincerely towards Lestrade while Scarlett leans closer to her dad to whisper, "Sarcasm."

"Yes," Sherlock agreed.

As the press applauds, Greg walks over to Sherlock and gives him a wrapped package, "We all chipped in."

Sherlock opens the gift and holds up a deerstalker hat.

"Oh!" said Sherlock trying to look delight.

Numerous people then shouted for him to put the hat on, and he just stood there staring at them as if he was ready to murder them.

"Yeah, Sherlock, put it on!" Lestrade encouraged.

"Just get it over with," John whispered to him.

Sherlock shoves the wrapping paper into his hands, and then puts the hat on his head. Flashbulbs go mad. Sherlock smiles at the press through gritted.

In 221B Baker Street, John and Scarlett are sitting on the sofa reading the papers while Sherlock, wearing his blue dressing gown, stomps across the room and throws the Daily Star onto the pile of newspapers on the coffee table.

"'Boffin'? Boffin Sherlock Holmes,"

"Everyone gets one," John told him.

"One what?" Sherlock asked looking confused.

"Tabloid nickname: 'SuBo'; 'Nasty Nick'. Shouldn't worry, I'll probably get one soon."

"Page five, column six, first sentence," Sherlock informed him as 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?" he yelled furiously.

"Maybe because it makes you look like an idiot," Scarlett mocks him.

"Bachelor John Watson?" John yelled as he read through the newspaper.

Scarlett couldn't help herself but laugh, "Shut up Scarlett!" John snaps at her.

"I'm so sorry I didn't you know you guys were in a relationship," she continue to laugh.

John shook his head and decided not even bother to argue with her, so continues to read the paper.

"'Bachelor'? What the hell are they implying?"

"Is it a cap? Why has it got two fronts?" Sherlock holds up the hat and twists it back and forth rapidly.

"It's a deerstalker," Scarlett rolled her eyes.

""Frequently seen in the company of bachelor John Watson and skanky teenager ..."

"What did they just call me?" Scarlett got up from her seat and read the paper with John.

"You stalk a deer with a hat? What are you gonna do throw it?"

"What the heck I don't dress skanky," Scarlett glanced up briefly, "No you're supposed to wear it,"

"... confirmed bachelor John Watson! Okay, this is too much. We need to be more careful," John warned them.

"It's got flaps ... ear flaps. It's an ear hat, John," Sherlock toss the hat across the room to John.

"What do you mean, more careful?" Sherlock asked John.

"I mean this isn't a deerstalker now; it's a Sherlock Holmes hat. I mean that you're not exactly a private detective any more. You're this far from famous," John informed him.

"Oh, it'll pass," he slumps down into his armchair and folds his hands in the prayer position in front of his mouth.

"It'd better pass. The press will turn, dad. They always turn, and they'll turn on you," Scarlett warns him.

Sherlock lowers his hands and looks more closely at John and Scarlett.

"It really bothers you two."

"What?" John and Scarlett asked.

"What people say."

"Yes," said John.

Scarlett shook her head, "No."

John narrows his eyes at her, "Whose side are you on me or him?"

Scarlett shrugged, "I don't know John you do your deduction."

Sherlock cut them off, "About me? I don't understand, why would it upset you two?"

"Just try to keep a low profile. Find yourself a little case this week. Stay out of the news," John warned him.

"Just quick question, do I really dress skanky?" Scarlett asked trying to change the subject.

"Just a little," said John.

Scarlett went up to her dad and lent out her hand, "I need to go shopping."

Sherlock raised a brow, "What for?"

"Buy clothes that don't look skanky," she replied sarcastically.

"Let me think… no. Beside you don't dress like one."

"Really?" she asked.

Sherlock rolled his eyes, "Scarlett, if you did I would sent you to Mycroft's."

Scarlett nods her head, "True."

"Aren't you supposed to be at school?" Sherlock asked.

Scarlett rolled her eyes, "I graduated last week remember?"

Sherlock gazed at the wall for a little bit then he remembered, "oh!"

"Yeah, thought so," she uttered as she walk away from the room.

"I'm surprise that they let you graduate early with your poor attendance," said John as he looks through the papers.

"The headmaster wanted to get rid of me fast, besides I'm glad I don't need to go back to that school anyway," Scarlett uttered.

"So where are you planning to go to school?" John asked

Scarlett raised a brow, "What school?"

"University Scarlett, where are you planning to go?"

"I'm not planning to go."

"But you have to!" John protest.

"Why? I'm already doing a job that I love, so what's the point going to school?"

"What about money? You do need money."

Scarlett shrugs, "I can live off with dad's money."

"What if something happens to him? He's not going to be around forever Scarlett."

"John, we've been through a lot of dangerous stuff, beside nothing can kill dad," Scarlett smirked.

John shook his head with disappointment; he saw no point of continuing to argue with her.

It was 11 in the morning Sherlock and Scarlett are sitting at the table in the kitchen, looking into their microscopes. John comes along the corridor leading from Sherlock's bedroom with wet hair, wearing a bathrobe and toweling the back of his neck dry.

Scarlett looked up from her microscope, "Whoa John, teenage girl in the house," she joked.

"Ha ha really funny," John replied sarcastically, "Beside we're use not having you here."

"Rude!" she raised her voice.

"It's your phone," John looks at Sherlock.

"Mm. Keeps doing that," said Sherlock not even bothering to look up.

John walks into the living room past the body in a suit which is hanging by its neck from the ceiling and sits down in his chair, picking up a newspaper. The body sways gently in the breeze.

"So, did you just talk to him for a really long time?" John asked.

Sherlock looks up and glances across to the body, "Oh. Henry Fishgard never committed suicide."

He picks up an old hardback book from the table and slams it shut in a flurry of dust, which made Scarlett cough, before going back to his microscope.

"Bow Street Runners, missed everything."

"Pressing case, is it?"

"They're all pressing 'til they're solved," Scarlett whispered and went back to her microscope.

Thirty minutes later Sherlock's phone went off again.

"I'll get it, shall I?" said John tetchily. He gets up and walks over to the phone, picking it up and checking the message as Sherlock continues to look into his microscope. John's face slowly fills with shock. He turns and takes the phone to the kitchen, holding it out to Sherlock.

"Here."

"Not now, I'm busy," said Sherlock not bothering to look up.

"Sherlock ..."

"Not now."

John pauses for a moment and breathe heavily, "He's back,"

Sherlock lifts his head and takes the phone. The message reads:

Come and play.

Tower Hill.

Jim Moriarty x.

Sherlock's eyes widen and he sinks back on his chair and gazes into space. Then they hear glass shatter on the floor, they both turn to the sound, there was Scarlett standing near the sink while shatter glasses were in front of her. Her entire body trembles, eyes widen, and face was pale.

"Scarlett, you alright?" John looks at her with concern.

Scarlett shook her head, "He can't…" she whispered.

The flat was now dead silence.

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