*3 MONTHS EARLIER*

With the case of Irene Adler finally put to rest, Sherlock, John, and Lottie took on more and more cases to occupy their time. Soon enough, a custom evolved for people to give Sherlock a gift when he solved their case. Much to Sherlock's dismay, these things ranged from diamond cuff-links to tie pins, and even a brand new hat that the police department all chipped in for; just like the one he wore in all those front page photos that he hated. Sherlock was not thrilled with any of this "unnecessary nonsense" as he called it, forcing John and Lottie, who stood by him in every press release, to scold him for not being polite.

"'Boffin'? Boffin Sherlock Holmes."

John and Lottie looked up from their morning reading when Sherlock slammed a newspaper down on the coffee table in front of them. Lottie smiled and shook her head, setting her feet on the floor while John picked up the paper and spread it across the table, "Everybody gets one."

"One what?" Sherlock said.

"Tabloid nickname. Subo, Nasty Nick. Shouldn't worry. Lottie and I will probably get one soon." He smiled at the red head next to him and she rolled her eyes.

"Oh boy." She stood and went into the kitchen for another cup of tea.

"John, page five, column six, first sentence." Sherlock said, "Lottie, second paragraph."

"Wait, what?" Lottie forgot all about the tea and resumed her seat next to John, reading over his shoulder when he flipped to the right page while Sherlock began to mumble to himself.

"Why is it always the hat photograph?" he said, picking up the hat that the police department had given him.

"'Bachelor John Watson.'" John muttered.

"What kind of hat is it, anyway?"

"Bachelor? What the hell are they implying?"

"Is it a cap? Why has it got two fronts?" Sherlock turned the hat back and forth in quick motions. Lottie glanced up at him.

"It's a deerstalker, Sherly, love." She said.

"'…frequently seen in the company of bachelor John Watson.'" John read.

"'…and the ginger bird Charlotte "Lottie" Blakely.'" She sat back in her seat, dumbfounded, "is that all anyone sees is my ginger hair?"

"How do you stalk a deer with a hat? What am I going to do, throw it?" Sherlock continued.

"'Confirmed bachelor John Watson.'" John exclaimed in anger.

"Is it like some sort of death Frisbee?"

"Alright you two." Lottie said, grabbing the boys' attention. She'd had enough of this griping and complaining, "We just need to be a little more careful."

"It's got flaps. Ear flaps."

"Sherlock, are you listening to me?"

"It's an ear hat, Lottie." He tossed the hat at her and she caught it with ease, "What do you mean, more careful?"

"I mean, this isn't a deerstalker now. It's a Sherlock Holmes hat."

"Lottie's right, I mean, you're not exactly a private detective anymore." John said, "You're this far from famous."

"Oh, it'll pass." Sherlock plopped down in his chair.

"It better pass." Lottie said, taking a more stern tone, "The press will turn, Sherly. They always turn. And they'll turn on you."

Sherlock let his hands fall on the arms of his chair, turning to look at Lottie with questioning eyes, "It really bothers you."

She was slightly taken aback, "What?"

"What people say. About me. I don't understand."

"Of course it does."

"Why would it upset you?"

She paused, taking a subtle deep breath, "You know why it bothers me, Sherlock."

Sherlock's eyes darted all over her frame, taking in the information her body was giving off. She was right, he did know. She worried about him, always has, always will. He took comfort in this fact, contrary to popular belief. Ever since John's discovery all those months ago of Sherlock's feelings towards Lottie, though he really wasn't quite sure himself at the time, anything that had to do with Lottie was comforting. She thinned her lips and got up from her seat and his eyes followed her into the kitchen. John took in a breath through his nose, restraining himself from saying anything to his two best friends.

"Look, just try and keep a low profile." He got to his feet, "And stay out of the news. I'm going to take a shower."

He disappeared into the bathroom and Sherlock sat there for a moment, considering the words that Lottie had spoken. He watched her movements, observing her emotions that she so plainly laid out for everyone to see while she made her tea. She'd always been like that, so open and honest, yet he had such a hard time setting a foundation for the two of them. John's words ran rampant around his head all day long, distracting him from his cases much like Lottie did when she escaped her floor of his mind palace. However she wasn't annoying like John's voice was nagging in his thoughts. Lottie didn't seem angry, or upset, but he could sense a bit of frustration and confusion that he knew he had brought on. She looked like she was trying to decide what to make for lunch and he stood, striding over to her cautiously when she leaned her hips on the counter while stirring her tea.

"What are you making for lunch?" he said.

"I dunno. What would you like?"

Her tone caught him off guard. It was angry, but she sounded as if she was bottling something up, and he wished so hard that she wouldn't. He'd accepted a lot of things about himself since Lottie had showed up in his life, and his care for her was one of them. He meant what he'd said back when they'd found out about Irene Alder's new life in the States, he really couldn't understand why before she had close to no problems talking to him, or opening up to him. He knew that he was hard to talk to sometimes (or a lot), but all of the sudden, she just seemed to nervous. Something told him that maybe he'd deleted the information he needed to deduce what was going on in Lottie's head and now he was kicking himself for doing it. She glanced at him over her shoulder and he realized he hadn't responded to her question. He cleared his throat, "Um, those cheese scones? The ones you made last week?"

A small smile graced her lips and she chuckled, "Of course."

He let a breath he didn't even know he was holding and found himself smiling. Maybe he was getting worked up over nothing. Is this what it was like when people care about other people? God, it why would anyone want to put themselves through that? But then he shook his head, remembering the girl that was standing in front of him.

"I'm sorry I worry so much." She said out of the blue. Sherlock furrowed his eyebrows.

"What are you talking about?"

"I know I get on your nerves when I do, but,"

He cut her off, "No, no, it's, um, it's okay. I don't mind it. I, actually, I…"

She turned to face him with curious eyes and he took a deep breath, "I actually kind of…take comfort in it."

"Really?" Lottie was astounded.

"Lottie, listen," he stepped closer to her and took her hand, hesitating to find his words, "I know I can be hard to deal with, and I don't listen to people very well, but I just want you to know that I listen to you, and I hear you. You're worrying doesn't bother me at all."

Lottie felt her cheeks go red and her lips thinned into a dimply smile, happiness lifting her heart. Sherlock squeezed her hand and leaned down to kiss her cheek, and before he stepped away, he stopped at her ear.

"Now, about those scones."

She slapped his arm and he smiled at her, stepping back to the kitchen table to return to his microscope. She took in his figure from behind and shook her head, getting to work on the cheese scones by Sherlock's request and just before she was to put them in the oven Sherlock's phone buzzed with a new text. It went off once or twice more while the pastries were baking and when it was time to pull them out John was padding down the hallway in nothing but his robe and a towel thrown over his shoulder. Sherlock's phone went off again.

"That's your phone, Sherlock." Lottie said.

"Mmm, keeps doing that, doesn't it?"

She rolled her eyes and exchanged a look with John as he took a seat in his chair, opening up the paper. Lottie placed the scones on a plate and walked around to set them on the table, sitting across from Sherlock. She took one from the plate and set it on a plate in front of her, scrolling through her phone and fiddling with the locket around her neck while he scone cooled. Sherlock glanced up from his work, smiling at her tiny fingers memorizing the front pattern of the jewelry. For Sherlock, it was soothing to know that she never took it off. That gift it was something that, to his surprise, he found great pride in. At the time he had bought it for a more specific reason, a reason that he felt that he may never need but he felt the precaution necessary. But now, months later, he saw a different reason that he was beginning to understand. His phone sounded again and Lottie looked up at him, catching his eyes watching her. He closed his eyes nodded his head to peer into the microscope.

"I'll get it, shall I?" she said. He glanced up at her and she was giving him a playful look, making him smile as she crossed into the living room, taking her tea with her. There was no passcode on his phone so she unlocked it and tapped the message app, opening up his unread messages. She skimmed the messages and in one blink, her world stopped. Her tea cup slipped from her fingers and she sucked in a breath. John looked up when he heard her tea cup hit the hardwood floor.

"Lottie?" he said; and Sherlock looked up at his worried voice, ready to get to his feet. Lottie looked from his phone, locking eyes with him and he could see the fear in her eyes.

"He's back." She breathed.

Sherlock stood and strode into the living room to stand by her, gently taking the phone from her shaking hands. John stood on her other side as the two of them skimmed the words on the screen.

'Come and play.

Tower Hill.

Jim Moriarty x.'

John and Lottie waited for his reaction, knowing how he felt about Moriarty. They could see the wheels in his brain turning and after a beat he put a hand on Lottie's arm, "Lottie, grab your coat. John, get dressed."

"That glass is tougher than anything."

"Not tougher than crystalized carbon." Sherlock explained to Lestrade. They were currently at the police station examining the surveillance camera footage that was covering the room where Moriarty had, in plain daylight, broken the case to the crowned jewels, seemingly with nothing but a fire extinguisher. Lottie watched the replay from a few feet away but as they played it again, she leaned in closer, leaning over Sherlock's shoulder to get a better look.

"He used a diamond."

Lestrade pressed a button on the keyboard, putting the video in reverse until it stopped just before Moriarty broke the glass. He had written 'GET SHERLOCK' backwards on the glass so that this specific camera could read it. The four of them stared at the screen and John looked over at Sherlock to find him gazing at the screen. Lottie closed her eyes and walked away from the computer, rubbing her face with her hands.

This was not happening again.