A/N: This chapter follows The Reichenbach Fall, so I should probably say that anything that doesn't look familiar belongs to me. Everything else belongs to the geniuses that are Mark Gatiss and Steven Moffat.
Chapter Thirteen
Kayla's POV
Later That Night
I couldn't believe I let those two idiots talk me into this. Here I was, standing next to John and Sherlock in a little black dress that I was starting to regret wearing due to the cool air of the art gallery. The champagne was helping though. "Falls of the Reichenbach, Turner's masterpiece, thankfully recovered owing to the prodigious talent of Mr. Sherlock Holmes." the gallery director finished his speech and the room erupted in applause. The director then handed Sherlock a small, gift-wrapped box. "A small token of our gratitude." he explained and Sherlock took the box.
"Diamond cufflinks. All my cuffs have buttons." Sherlock deduced and I couldn't help the sigh that escaped. I knew he was going to make this hard on everyone, I just hadn't anticipated how difficult he was being.
"He means thank you." John told the director and Sherlock looked to John in confusion.
"Do I?" he asked and I had to hold back a groan.
"Sherlock..." I warned and he turned to me next. He must've gotten the look I was giving him and turned to the director.
"Thank you." he said insincerely and was about to walk away when John grabbed his arm. Sherlock stopped unwillingly and the press jumped at the opportunity to take photos and ask questions.
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As I stood off to the side of the two, I had to hold back the laughter that was building as I watched the complete and utter discomfort flash across Sherlock's face and the way John was using to his advantage. "Back together again with my family after my terrifying ordeal," the recently rescued father said to the cameras that were surrounding the banker's house. "and we have one person to thank for my deliverance-Sherlock Holmes."
As the public applauded, the young boy in front of his father smiled and offered a small, gift-wrapped box to Sherlock. I knew exactly where this was headed when he took the box and rattled it briefly. "Tie pin. I don't wear ties." he whispered to John and I let a laugh escape when John shushed him as a photographer appeared.
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This time, I was kind of glad Sherlock asked me to accompany them to this one. Phantom had decided to open a case on Peter Ricoletti a few months ago, but decided it wasn't worth their time since he operated mostly in London, so handed it over to Scotland Yard. It then ended up going to Sherlock.
"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." Greg said with a grin. Sherlock smiled insincerely towards Greg while John leaned over to Sherlock and whispered something to him. Sherlock looked confused for a moment and then nodded. I had to guess John was explaining Greg's sarcasm. As us in the audience applauded, Greg walked over and handed Sherlock a gift-wrapped package, smiling cheerfully.
"We all chipped in." he said as Sherlock tore the paper from the package and I didn't miss the expectant grins on Sally's and Anderson's faces. I, however, had to, once again, hold back the laughter that was bubbling up as Sherlock pulled out a deerstalker hat and all he could muster was an 'oh'. Then he tried to seem somewhat happy about the gift. Then the stream of reporters telling Sherlock to put it on began.
"Yeah, Sherlock, put it on!" Greg encouraged and I couldn't help but laugh as Sherlock gave the reporters a look that said he was going to kill every single one of them while John cleared his throat uncomfortably. John leaned over again and whispered something else to Sherlock. The detective then turned to me for help. He gave me a pleading look and I began to feel terrible. I only shrugged and Sherlock huffed.
With a glower, he shoved the wrapping paper into John's hands, then unhappily put the hat on his head and I thought the photographers were going to die of excitement by taking what seemed to be thousands of pictures and applauding. Sherlock smiled through his teeth at the press and glanced at Greg with a look that promised a world of pain later.
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"Any new news on Moriarty?" I asked, throwing papers around my room to find the one in particular I needed.
"No. Nothing as of late. He seems to laying low for now. But we'll get him. It'll just take time and patience." Samuel said, sounding just as disappointed as I was.
"I hate patience." I mumbled, rummaging through another file of papers.
"I know you do, hun, but patience is a virtue. One you should learn from your brother." Samuel laughed and I couldn't help but role my eyes.
"Yeah, cause Nick is such a saint." I grumbled sarcastically and heard Samuel chuckle on the other end.
"Look, just fax me those files once you find them. That's all I'm asking." he said and I sighed.
"Yeah. Alright. Just need to locate it first." I mumbled, looking through what seemed to be the hundredth file today.
"Good. I'll let you go so you can work." he said and with a quick goodbye, he hung up.
With a groan, I threw the phone onto my pillow and sat cross-legged in the middle of my bed with a stack of files that surrounded me. Tedious work, but it had to be done. I could hear John and Sherlock talking in the living room, but with the door closed, I couldn't hear what they were talking about. If my speculations were correct, they were taking to each other without listening to each other. Like they usually did.
I couldn't help but laugh at the memories of walking in on their "conversations". It was even more difficult when they both tried to hold separate conversations with me at the same time. It confused me, but sometimes it was worth it. It was amazing to see how compete opposites the two men were. It was fascinating.
Deciding to give up on my search for the day, I got off the bed and stretched. Feeling my muscles pop and stretch, I groaned and headed out of my room and downstairs. Just as I was about to enter the living room, I had to stop in the doorway and listen.
"'Boffin'. 'Boffin Sherlock Holmes'." Sherlock said indignantly, throwing a paper onto the coffee table with the rest of them before he began to pace in front of the fireplace.
"Everybody gets one." John said from the couch, not looking up from the paper he was reading.
"One what?" Sherlock asked, looking to John briefly before continuing his pacing.
"Tabloid nickname: 'SuBo'; 'Nasty Nick'. Shouldn't worry-I'll probably get one soon." John explained, glancing at the detective.
"Page five, column six, first sentence." Sherlock mumbled and John turned to the relevant page while Sherlock walked over to the mantle and picked up the deerstalker. "Why is it always the hat photograph?" he asked, holding said hat up and punching it angrily.
"'Bachelor John Watson'?"
"What sort of hat is it anyway?"
"'Bachelor'? What the hell are they implying?"
"Is it a cap? Why has it got two fronts?"
"It's a deerstalker." John said, glancing up briefly before turning back to the paper. "'Frequently seen in the company of bachelor John Watson...'"
"You stalk a deer with a hat? What are you gonna do-throw it?"
"'...confirmed bachelor John Watson!'"
"Some sort of death frisbee?"
"Okay, this is too much. We need to be more careful."
"It's got flaps...ear flaps. It's an ear hat, John." Sherlock said and then turned to me, the first to show any indication that I was even there. "Ear hat!" he repeated and threw it to me. I caught it and raised an eyebrow at him.
"The flaps aren't supposed to come down. They're mostly for decoration." I said, throwing it back to him. Sherlock gave it a distasteful look and then threw it to John.
"What do you mean 'more careful'?" Sherlock asked, dropping into his chair.
"I mean, this isn't a deerstalker now. It's a Sherlock Holmes hat. I mean that you're not exactly a private detective anymore." John explained as I walked over and sat down in John's normal chair. "You're this far from from famous." he added, holding up his thumb and forefinger an inch apart.
"Oh, it'll pass." Sherlock brushed it off, slumping in his chair and folding his hands under just under his chin. He then looked to me. "Did you find that file you were looking for?" he asked and I looked at him confused.
"How did you know?" I asked and Sherlock smirked.
"I read your emails." he answered and I couldn't help but role my eyes.
"Of course you did. Because you have no concept of boundaries." I mumbled and Sherlock chuckled and then turned to John.
"It really bothers you." he said simply and John looked up at him confused.
"What?" he asked and Sherlock rolled his eyes.
"What people say." Sherlock reiterated.
"Yes. " John said a little skeptically.
"About me? I don't understand-why would it upset you?" Sherlock asked and I could tell his curiosity was getting the better of him. John kept the detectives gave for a moment before looking away.
"Just try to keep a low profile. Stay out of the news." he said before getting up and leaving the living room.
"I don't understand." Sherlock said to me once John was gone.
"He's worried about you Sherlock. Despite what you think, there're people who truly care about you and don't want to see anything bad happen to you." I told him and he looked confused.
"But why?" he asked again, leaning forward in his chair. "What is the purpose of caring?" he asked and I was silent for a moment.
"Sherlock, caring is what makes us human. We care because we love you. We care because we don't want you to do something stupid and then something bad happening to you. You might not think you have friends, but you have some of the most loyal friends I've ever seen." I said, leaning forward and taking his hands in mine. Sherlock's head snapped up and he looked me dead in the eye. "Don't let your brother's words get to you, Sherlock. Caring is an advantage."
Sherlock remained silent and seemed to be searching my face for answers. With a sigh, I stood up and leaned down so I was face to face with the detective. "Don't over think it. You'll only confuse yourself even more." I chuckled and leaned forward to kiss him on the forehead. "We love you, Sherlock. Never forget that." I told him, not able to bring myself to say 'I'. Sherlock nodded and leaned back in his chair, going into deep thought, probably going against my advise.
With one last look to the detective, I grabbed my coat off the rack. "I need some fresh air. I'll be back within the hour." I announced and Sherlock waved his hand, letting me know he'd heard me. With a small smile, I slipped my coat on and headed downstairs.
A/N: I've decided not to do this as a whole. That would make this way too long and, if you're anything like me, I don't like overly long chapters. So, I'm dividing this up into parts. I'm not sure how many, but they'll cover almost all of Reichenbach. Also, don't forget to leave a review. They're what keeps this story going. Without them, I can't continue because I'll think you guys don't like what I'm writing. I REALLY want to know what you guys think! So, please leave a review and make me happy!