The Reichenbach Fall [Reader Insert]

Welcome Back Shipping References- Part I

    This book is a sequel to:  The Hounds of Baskerville [Reader Insert]. 

      Hello. Welcome to the Reichenbach Fall. 

     "Why today?" -Ella Thompson 

     The art museum director, like most British men, was a gay idiot. 

     "Falls of the Reichenbach!" he announced joyously. "Turner's greatest masterpiece, gratefully recovered owing to the prodigious talent of Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, and (Y/N) (L/N)."

     Indeed, he was certainly gay, and in more than one way. A naive person might have supposed that one of those ways had come about by the recovery of the painting. But you, a not-idiot, knew that the museum director as happy for nothing more than the publicity provided by the presence investigative trio you found yourself a part if. In actuality he could not care less for the artwork itself. This obnoxiously inaccurate front the director placed himself behind was one of the reasons you strongly disliked him. Another was that he was flirting with Sherlock.

     "A small token of our gratitude," said the director after the applause had faded. With a prize-winning smile, he offered a small black box to Sherlock, who simply raised a brow and regarded the outstretched hand with distaste.

     You rolled your eyes. You may have very strongly disliked the director, but you were mindful of manners to a certain point, albeit not the most educated one. You took the box and immediately deduced, "Diamond cuff links."

    "All my cuffs have buttons," said Sherlock, unimpressed.

    The director seemed utterly unfazed by this, but John felt the need to swoop in anyway. Said he, "he means thank you," as he tried for a polite smile.

     "Does he?" you asked, glaring daggers at the director's languid grin.

    The director didn't notice. But Sherlock did. The curl-haird detective, with an amused glint in his eye, adapted a more amicable countenance and smiled back at the museum director.

   "Thank you," he said strongly, reaching out to shake the other's hand. The director, of course, easily complied, his blessedly, infuriatingly bright smile easing into a flirtatious smirk.

     Your forceful glare did nothing to keep Sherlock from giving the director a wink, or from letting his hand linger just a beat too long.

    Open-mouthed and in shock, John looked slowly between you, Sherlock, and the art museum director.

    "Okay, time to go," he said suddenly and urgently, making a shepherding gesture to leave in an attempt to dispel the situation.

    "Oh, but John," said Sherlock, deceivingly civil, "We couldn't possibly leave without a photo or two, now could we?"

     A minute later as the press took pictures, Sherlock leaned over, subtly slipping his hand into yours, and said, "I didn't take you to be the jealous type. It's rather endearing."

-

     That was the first instance in which the public was given plausible fuel to really start talking. Fangirls always shipped it before, but normal, slightly-more-sane fans had only gone so far as to say that you and Sherlock could be a good pair. But until the photos from the case were looked over and the hand-holding was observed, proof was negate.

     Your relationship with Sherlock still had not yet been released to the public and in fact neither you nor Sherlock had any intention to tell the public, for the public was stupid.

     However, you found denying the relationship to be especially difficult after the second incident...

-

     The case was about a very wealthy (that fact had absolutely nothing to do with John's selection of it, absolutely nothing, he will stand by this) banker who had unfortunately (ha) been kidnapped. You and Sherlock managed to mastermind the banker's daring escape, a big success for you, and a bit of an embarrassment for Scotland Yard. 

     At the press conference (the banker was a douche too) (more on that later), the banker presented the group with gifts. Sherlock and John he gave tie pins ("I don't wear ties," pointed out Sherlock after rattling the gift-wrapped box briefly) (John shushed him). You, a small black box containing a necklace. You didn't bother to open it, but knew that it was a diamond, silver-chain necklace, because that was just obvious, now wasn't it? I don't wear jewelry, you thought, but kept your expression utterly impassive even as the banker kissed your hand slowly, lifting his lips in a carefully suggestive manner. Then he winked.

    Feeling Sherlock move closer to your side, you looked up at him. He stared down at the banker like he was trying to murder with his eyes. You'd never seen him glower which such lethal intent. 

     The banker had no interest in taking his eyes off of you, so Sherlock did something with you to guarantee the banker's interest. That something involved turning you to face him, bringing a hand to cradle your jaw, and pressing forward in a quick, lavender-scented and nicotine-flavored exchange. 

     Or it was supposed to be quick, but once Sherlock pulled away either the look on your face or the taste on your lips was irresistible. The second kiss was slower; easier to get lost in. And it happened to give the press some time to recover from their temporary shock, which resulted in a lot of shouted and screamed questions and so many flashing lights as pictures were taken that it was a health hazard. 

     When the two of you parted for a second time, Sherlock wore reddened lips and a glorious, genuine smile. He shot another look at the banker, but with the grin still on his face it was a very mixed and confusing message.

     "Sherlock." He faced you again, eyes burning a brilliant blue. You raised a brow and he laughed breathlessly, shrugging sheepishly. "I didn't take you to be the jealous type," you said. "You know... it's rather endearing."

This was meant to be longer and get out sooner but over the weekend there were some... complications regarding my personal life (and don't worry, I'm okay, everyone has problems). Next chapter out sooner or later.