Prompt: From the second chapter of STUD, Holmes tells Watson "I know well that I have it in me to make my name famous." But after the Return (EMPT and NORW) for example, Holmes tells Lestrade that "the work is its own reward" and that he wants his name kept completely out of the matter.
Explain this change of mindset pre-and-post-Return. Give any reason you wish, but be convincing.

A/N: I'm a horrible person! I don't think I've responded to even ONE review for this story! A thousand apologies to my dear readers! My excuse? Laziness. #embarrassed# I wish I had some sort of good excuse, but... I really don't.
So I'd like to take this opportunity to give a billion thank yous to everyone who's been reviewing! I really appreciate the feedback and support! It makes me happy :)

Holmes was obviously quite pleased with the conclusion of the problem in Norwood. No doubt he was glad to learn that there were still criminals worthy of his attention, even without the late Professor Moriarty. I had already outlined the case in my notebook, and planned to write it up fully that evening, but of course I could not publish it without first revealing the story of Holmes' return from the dead. He had not yet told me when it would be permissible to do so. It was also a point of curiosity for me that he did not wish his name to appear in any way in the newspapers with regard to this Norwood business. Of course, he had always maintained that "the work is its own reward," as he put it, but now it seemed he was actively shunning publicity.

I finally confronted him about it, several days later, after he solved a particularly knotty case involving several murders and a stolen brooch on which the fates of three men rested. He had fiercely demanded that his name not be mentioned in relation to the case once the papers gave an account, and I was at a loss as to why this point should be so important to him.

"There may yet be dangerous men who, if they learned that I was still in the land of the living, would take steps to ensure that I did not remain there for long," was his reply, when I placed the question to him. "As it stands, however, I will slowly fade back into London, and bring about justice to those who deserve it without shouting my name from the rooftops. It does not do to put them on their guard."

"You mean that Moran might not have been the only one left of Moriarty's gang?"

"There are a few, though a very few, men who managed to escape the nets," Holmes answered. "None so dangerous as Moran himself--I doubt that any of them ever even had the pleasure of meeting the Professor. But as it stands it would, I feel, be best if they were not given any cause for alarm--such as a published account of my return and presence in London."

This in itself seemed a plausible reason, but I got the sense that there was more to this than met the eye. "And that is all there is of it?" I asked innocently.

"I should think that avoiding the possibility of attempts on one's life should be a good enough reason," he responded, but I noticed that he did not quite meet my eyes. If he had been a stranger it would have been imperceptible, but I had the advantage of knowing him intimately, and was able to spot any discrepancies in his behavior.

"Holmes," I said suspiciously, "Are you keeping something from me in this matter?"

His response was to busy himself lighting his pipe.

"Holmes. Keeping me in the dark for three long years was quite enough, old fellow. What is going on?"

I saw a glimmer of guilt deep in his grey eyes for a moment, though his expression remained unmoved. We sat in silence for a long moment before he sighed and took his pipe out of his mouth. "You are right, Watson. However, I promise you, the reason is of no importance whatsoever--It is a very trivial matter."

"Then why are you so anxious to keep it from me?"

"It is... a trifle embarrassing."

I raised my eyebrows. He avoided my attentive stare for a moment, then met my gaze with a resigned expression.

"You'll recall I was continuing my work as a detective under the alias Sigerson?" I nodded. "I became rather famous rather fast, over the course of those three years. My exploits made it to the London papers, you remember. And though I was careful, I confess I was publicized rather more freely than I should have been.

"It was through this news of my exploits that a young lady learned of my skills as a detective, and she brought me a pretty little problem--her stepfather had sealed up a room in their house, and yet late at night she was certain she heard a noise coming from inside. I took a trip down to the house and found that, to make a long story short, her stepfather was the ringleader of a gang of counterfeiters, and had him arrested. She was quite grateful to me for clearing the matter up, and proceeded to sing my praises to me in a highly exaggerated form." He grimaced at his recollection. "And then--I could not be rid of her."

A snort of laughter escaped me. Holmes glared daggers. "It was not funny, Watson. She would not give me a moment's peace. I could not go out without running into her--she called upon me practically every day, and she was constantly underfoot. It was absolutely infuriating. What would drive a woman to behave in such a fashion?"

"Well, Holmes, your talents are quite impressive," I said, trying to smother my laughter. "Though it sounds as though she was rather more impressed than is usual, I daresay."

He glowered at my badly supressed grin. "Quite true, Watson. Eventually I relocated--I settled in Paris for a while, though I kept the name Sigerson." He shot another disgruntled look into the fire. "And she followed me."

"What?"

"She learned where I was because my name had yet again made it into the papers," he said irritably. "When she found me I made it clear that her attentions were unwanted, but that seemed to make no difference. The next time I relocated I adopted a different alias, but again I solved a trifling little mystery and she heard about it--how she did I shall never understand, I'm certain it was not that well publicized. Since then I have made sure that my name does not appear in relation to my cases, and that word of my skills does not make it to print."

It was really too bad of me to laugh so at his expense, but I could not help myself. When I finally regained my composure I looked up to find that his glare had never wavered. "Come now, Holmes," I said, still chuckling. "You cannot pretend to see no humor in the situation."

"It wasn't happening to you," he replied sullenly.

I shook my head, but could not wipe the grin from my face.

It was a very long time before he finally allowed his name to make it into print.

A/N: A genuine Sherlockian era fangirl! I figured Holmes had to be running from something--and what could possibly be more frightening than a devoted stalker! Rather implausible, but very fun to write :)