Saving Grace(A Sherlock/BBC Fan-fiction)

Chapter Fifteen: Moriarty

        "Falls of the Rechinbach, Turner's masterpiece. Thankfully recovered owing to the prodigious talent of Mr. Sherlock Holmes." Everyone clapped. I stood with Sherlock and John, looking around. "A small token of our gratitude." 

        "Diamond cuff-links. All my cuffs have buttons."

        "He means they did, before he got this wonderful gift." I pinched is arm slightly. 

        "Yes. Thank you." He went to walk away but John stopped him as they took a picture for the paper.

~~~

        "Back together with my family after my terrifying ordeal. And we have one person to thank for my deliverance. Sherlock Holmes." The son of the family handed Sherlock a box.

        'Tie pin, I don't wear ties."

        'Until now." I muttered.

~~~

        "Peter Richoletti, Number one on Interpol's most wanted list since Nineteen-eighty-two. Well we got him, and there's one person we have to thank for giving us the decisive leads with all his customary diplomacy intact." Greg said. He walked over to us. "We all chipped in." Sherlock unwrapped the deer stalker. I smiled.

        "Put the hat on!"

        'Put the hat on, Sherlock!" Everyone called. I took the hat and put it on his head. 

~~~
        "GRACE!" Sherlock entered the flat, enraged. He held the newspaper in his hands. 

        'You had it coming." I told him.

        'Ok, what is going on?"

        "Sherlock and I have a game to see who can make the most embarrassing story in the papers. Sherlock sent out a false story about me being pregnant, so I went out in public wearing the hat, took pictures with children, and told them that Sherlock rarely left home without it." 

        "What kind of hat is it anyway?"

        "I told you I'd get you back-" I said.

        "Is it a cap? Why's it got two fronts."

        "And now I finally have-"

        "It's a deerstalker." John explained.

        "-And I have to say, revenge is pretty sweet-"

        "Stalk a deer with a hat? What are you going to do, throw it? Some sort of death frisbee?" 

        "-You-"

        "Oh my gosh! For God's sake stop talking at the same time, you'll drive me mad!" John yelled.

        "What's with you?" Sherlock and I asked at the same time. John simply stood up and left the flat. I laughed. 

        "But anyway. I win! But enough games now. We need to keep you out of the papers. The press will turn and they'll turn on you."

        "You really care don't you? What people say?"

        'Yes."

        'Well what does it matter to you? It's about me. Why would it matter to you."

        "Because I don't like people saying bad things about the people I care about." I told him.

        "Are you saying you care about me, Gracie?"