You're in Sherlock (Sherlock × Reader)

The Reichenbach Fall: Chapter 1

"'Bachelor John Watson'?" John read in annoyance from the article. Bachelor! Ha, that was funny. They'd brought John's dating life into his title.

"I told you." You shook your head, pushing the file aside. You decided you wouldn't get much of anything done with these two knuckleheads spazzing out. It was soon before Sherlock would point out you too had been given a nickname. You knew they had, but you didn't want to know what it was, nor did you care.

"What sort of hat is it anyway?" Sherlock was still intensely studying the deerstalker as he flipped it around, trying to understand it. He kept turning it back and forth in his hands, not coming up with anything.

"'Bachelor'? What the hell are they implying?" He looked up to you and Sherlock in anger. You sighed, this is what happened when you read too much into the media. You just never thought it would end up happening to you.

"That you're single." You told John. He gave you a dark look and you shrugged, you were just telling him the truth.

"Is it a cap? Why has it got two fronts?" Sherlock continued to flip the hat in both directions, it really did have two fronts. Weird.

"It's a deerstalker. 'Frequently seen in the company of bachelor John Watson...'." John scanned his hand over the article and you finally stood, placing your files on Sherlock's desk. Oh god, how long would this go on?

"You stalk a deer with a hat? What are you gonna do – throw it?" Sherlock threw the hat towards you and you caught it, giving him a look.

"'Confirmed bachelor John Watson'!"

"Some sort of death frisbee?" Sherlock still contemplated the hat as he looked at it in your hands.

"Okay, you two. That's enough media for today." You sat the hat aside and went to grab the article from John, tucking it under your arm.

"It's got flaps... ear flaps. It's an ear hat, Y/n!" He motioned towards the hat and you shook your head.

"No, no more." You pointed to them both, keeping the article close.

"Page five, column five, third sentence." Sherlock told you.

"No, you know what? I don't care what nickname they've given me, Sherlock. I. Don't. Care." You announced, placing your hands on your hips, the article crinkling in between your fingers.

"'Dutiful Dr. Y/l/n, always following close at Sherlock's side. Is there something more to-'" Sherlock began, but you cut him off.

"Dutiful? That's what they've come up with? Do they think I'm your personal pet that follows you around everywhere?" You groaned. This is why you didn't care for the media. They always made up stuff to make things more interesting. Sherlock was upset about boffin when they'd given you dutiful?

"Okay, this is too much. We need to be more careful." John announced. You tore the article in two, throwing it in the bin. You didn't care for the article, nor did you care about any future articles. You wouldn't be reading them.

"What do you mean, 'more careful'?" Sherlock asked, squinting his eyes at John.

"I mean that isn't a deerstalker now; it's a Sherlock Holmes hat. I mean that you two are not exactly private detectives any more. You're this far from famous." John held his hand up in demonstration, his index finger squeezed towards his thumb. Famous? You didn't like the sound of that.

"Oh, it'll pass." Sherlock slumped down into his chair, pressing his fingers to his lips.

"It better pass." You grumbled, searching for more articles to throw out.