Sentiment {Sherlock BBC}

25. "The Hat."

Six Months Later

"Oh Sherlock," I giggled as John and I sat reading the papers when a picture of Sherlock in the hat showed up. "Hero of the Reichenbach" one of the papers read.

""Boffin." "Boffin Sherlock Holmes." Sherlock spat walking around the flat.

"Everybody gets one." John pointed out.

"One what?" Sherlock asked and I smirked setting my paper down as I stretched on the couch.

"Tabloid nickname: 'SuBo'; 'Nasty Nick.' Shouldn't worry – I'll probably get one soon." John said and I looked at him confused.

"You're already the Live-In Blogger." I sighed standing up and taking my coffee mug from the coffee table, taking it to the kitchen.

"Page five, column six, first sentence." Sherlock sighed tossing John a paper. Sherlock held the hat up in front of him and punched it.

"Why is it always the hat photograph?" Sherlock asked.

"You look hot," I smirked as I walked back into the kitchen. I stood in front of him and pecked his lips as I heard John,

""Bachelor John Watson"?" John asked.

"What sort of hat is it anyway?" Sherlock asked still concentrating on the hat he held between us.

""Bachelor"? What the hell are they implying?" John asked looking up at me, focused on the paper Sherlock tossed him. I sighed and looked between the two as Sherlock began twisting the hat in all sorts of directions, almost giving me a migraine.

"Is it a cap? Why has it got two fronts?" Sherlock asked.

"It's a deerstalker." I sighed responding to Sherlock as John continued to read the article,

""Frequently seen in the company of bachelor John Watson..."" he read.

"You stalk a deer with a hat? What are you gonna do – throw it?" Sherlock asked and I laughed at how ridiculous both men were acting.

""...confirmed bachelor John Watson"!" John added throwing the paper to me. I took it and put it on the coffee table in front of us.

"Some sort of death frisbee?" Sherlock added to his list of insults to the hat.

"Okay, this is too much. We need to be more careful." John said, just now noticing Sherlock's rant.

"It's got flaps ... ear flaps. It's an ear hat, John." Sherlock sighed then threw the hat to John. "What do you mean, "more careful"?" Sherlock added.

"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 said holding up his forefinger and thumb not too far apart.

"Oh, it'll pass." Sherlock shrugged as he sat in his armchair. I shook my head and sat in his lap.

"Oh, no it won't. Not with a face like yours." I sighed. He put his arm around me and I kissed him again. John shook his head.

"It'd better pass. The press will turn, Sherlock. They always turn, and they'll turn on you." John said.

"True. Very true," I sighed.

"It really bothers you." Sherlock said looking at us.

"What?" John asked.

"What people say." Sherlock specified.

"Yes." John and I agreed.

"About me? I don't understand – why would it upset you?" Sherlock asked. I looked at John and put my head on Sherlock's chest, under his chin.

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

John left not so long afterward and I grabbed a shower. Once I dressed and towel dried my hair in Sherlock's room, I noticed his phone kept going off. I grabbed it and walked it out to him. He sat at the kitchen table looking into his microscope.

"Babe, your phone." I said.

"Mm. Keeps doing that." He said. I finished drying my hair and sat the towel on the table across from him. I strolled around the table and wrapped my arms around his neck. He continued looking through his microscope as I kissed down his neck. I playfully unbuttoned the first two buttons of his shirt when he leaned back.

"Liz," he said quietly. I peeked my head around to look him in the eyes and he just kissed me. I stood up straight and walked into the living room, looking up at a body that was hanging by it's neck from the ceiling.

"So, did you just talk to him for a really long time?" I sighed as I sat in his chair, looking at him. Sherlock glanced at the body, then smirked at me.

"Oh. Remind me to tell John Henry Fishgard never committed suicide." He said. He picked up an old book and slammed it shut as dust flew around before he went back to looking through his microscope. I pulled out my phone and secretly took a picture of him. I smiled at it as he started talking again and I put my phone away. "Bow Street Runners: missed everything." He said.

"Pressing case, then?" I asked.

"They're all pressing 'til they're solved." He said.

"And you're just the man for that." I smiled. Sherlock's phone went off again and I sighed.

"I'll get it, shall I?" I asked as I walked over and grabbed the phone I sat across the table from him.

"Shit. Sherlock," I began holding out the phone to him.

"Not now, I'm busy." Sherlock responded. I knew exactly who this was. I read the hell out of John's blogs since they wouldn't take me on several cases.

"Sherlock..." I pressed.

"Not now."

"It's Moriarty." I said nervously. Sherlock looked up at me and took the phone from me.

"Come and play.

Tower Hill.

Jim Moriarty x."

Sherlock's eyes widened and he stood up.

"Call John, tell him to meet me at the Tower." Sherlock instructed.

"Can I go?" I asked.

"No. Stay here. If anyone comes to the door, do not answer. Even for Mrs. Hudson, stay in my room. Door locked. Please." Sherlock rushed.

"Sherlock, don't be ridiculous-,"

"I'm not losing you." He said, almost looking scared.

"You'd never lose me." I said. He eyed me carefully.

"Please let me go. Please. Please. Please!" I begged wrapping my arms around his neck.

"No." he said. I kissed him and bounced like a kid not getting their way.

"Please!"

"Fine, for god's sake." He sighed.

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Most of you who are fans of the show probably know what's going to happen, but hey. I felt like changing this beginning part up a bit, so don't get predictable ;)

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