The rain fell hard around him, soaking his hair and causing it to cling to his forehead, but he didn't pay it any mind. He hadn't gone to the funeral, he hadn't been able to bring himself to go. The water that streaked down his face was the raindrops from the cloud, not a single tear. He couldn't bring himself to cry, because crying would make it real. 

He let out a slow steadying sigh as he reached out to brush his fingers along the tombstone, licking his suddenly dry lips, despite the pouring rain. "I can't think of what to say," he muttered, letting out a bitter chuckle, looking away from the porcelain black marble carved out in front of him.

~*~

She never usually dressed up, not with the job she had that required a lot of field work and getting down and dirty. But, today was a special occasion. The Museum was holding a party for the unveiling of some ancient bones she helped uncover and identify. She was to be the guest of honor, as they put it, so she figured she'd put a little effort into her outfit.

She had chosen a pair of silver stilettos to go with the the sparkling top she'd chosen, along with a pair of dark skinny jeans and a white blazer to go neatly over top. She had left her hair down and curly, pinning half back to show off the silver drop earrings, with a bit of lip gloss and thin eyeliner. 

She heard the lock on the door unlock and open signaling he was here and she smiled, glancing at the clock. 7 P.M. sharp. She hurried out of her bedroom and out into the living room to see Greg Lestrade standing there, looking as dashing as ever in his suit. "Wow," he took her in and she did a quick pose. "You look great."

"You don't look so bad yourself handsome." She giggled, fixing his tie as she pushed up on her tip toes to press a soft kiss to his lips. "Ready to go?" And with that they set out for the night. 

The museum was large and looked beautiful with all the decorations, the lights seeming even more luminescent now that it had grown dark outside, a million stars in the black sky. There had been at least a dozen people who had come up to greet her and congratulate her on her findings all to which she replied to with a bright smile and polite thank you. 

To be honest she was a bit over whelmed with all the people coming up to her. Usually she was just a name on a plaque or a face in the newspaper, it wasn't very often that a banquet was held in her name. She never did well with overwhelming crowds, never good for her anxiety. 

Now she was standing at the banquet table with a glass of champagne, her eyes scanning the room for Greg who she managed to lose in all the chaos. She was so busy in trying to find her boyfriend that she didn't notice the man come up to her until he spoke up.

"Clara?" He tilted his head to get her to look at him. "Clara Hudson?"

"I'm sorry, do I know you?" She asked, looking him over quickly. He was rather tall with shaggy brown hair and big Hazel eyes. 

"Um, no, I'm Sam," he held out a hand for her to shake and she did after a hesitant moment. "Your face is kinda all over the place."

Clara dropped her head, tucking her hair behind her ear, "right, of course."

She peeked back up at him when she realized he was still standing there with his hands in his pockets and a smirk on his lips. "Could I get you a drink?"

"Um..." Clara trailed off awkwardly, holding up her already filled glass for him to see. The man dropped his head in embarrassment, letting out a soft chuckle. Clara pressed her lips into a thin line feeling kinda bad for the guy actually, he was trying really hard and she always hated when someone had feelings for her that she couldn't return. "I, um, actually have a boyfriend."

His eyebrows rose at that, looking around like he didn't believe her, "I don't see him anywhere."

"I, uh, we got separated in the crowd. But, he's around here somewhere."

"You know, if your playing hard to get," he began and even went as far as to pick up a lock of curly brown hair that was resting over her shoulder. "You don't have to. Every guy in this building already wants you."

Clara's eyebrows shot up, her jaw dropping slightly. She was about to tell this guy off, when someone else stepped in. That someone else being her boyfriend; Greg Lestrade. "What the Hell?" He demanded and both sets of eyes snapped to him. 

"Alright guy, I got here first, so why don't you go busy yourself somewhere else," snapped back Sam, smugly. He tried to catch Clara's eye again, but her eyes remained on Greg, her eyes big like a dear caught in the headlights. 

"Guy?" Greg echoed incredulously. "I'm her bloody boyfriend."

"You weren't there, she was alone; she was up for grabs." The horrible sentence that had begun to come out of this guys mouth was cut off as Greg popped him a good one, right in the mouth. Clara gasped, startled, taking a slight step back as the tall guy stumbled.

She quickly regained her thoughts when she noticed Greg take a step forward and she hurried over and latched herself onto his arm before he could do anything else. "Why don't we get out of here." She offered, casting a wary look around at everyone else who had stopped to watch them. 

The boys were waiting patiently, well patiently for John, impatiently for Sherlock, for the girls to finish getting ready. Him and Tyler were going to be rewarded for finding the painting of 'Falls of the Reichenbach' and he really just wanted to get it all over with. 

"Are you girls ready yet?" John called and shortly after both girls hurried out of their rooms, Clara reaching up to kiss his cheek as she moved around to grab her shoes from by the door while Tyler used his shoulder to steady herself as she slipped on her shoes. 

"Hey, you ever finish reading my manuscript?" She asked, making light conversation. 

"Yeah, it was great," John smiled, getting a small one in return as Tyler moved to put her hair in loose pigtails. "I really like how you portrayed my character."

Tyler tossed him a look, why did everyone keep assuming she based those characters off real people, "you're not in the book."

"You're so in the book." Clara argued with a laugh as she shrugged on her jacket. 

Sherlock frowned, looking around at the three of them before resting on John, "you read her manuscript."

"Yeah, her second novel," John explained, not noticing the small frown on her face. "Suspicious Behaviour."

Sherlock's face contorted into a look of disgust, "is that really the title?" He looked to Tyler curiously who tossed him a withering look. "Am I in it?"

"No. None of you are in it!" She shouted, letting out a frustrated laugh. "We have a ceremony to go to, let's go. chop-chop." 

"You're so in it," Clara told him as she and the two boys followed after the blonde. "We're all in it." 

"Why won't she let me read it?" He asked. 

John and Clara shared a knowing look, the latter shaking her head and jogging to catch up to Tyler, leaving John to deal with the curious look Sherlock sent him. "I'll let you figure that one out." 

The girls smiled politely as they stood beside Sherlock and John in an art gallery, just off to the side, listening to the Director, who finally seemed to be reaching the end of his speech as he spoke to a crowd of patrons and press gathered before him, some sipping champagne that was being severed around the room by waiters on silver trays.

"'Falls of the Reichenbach,'" the Director was saying as he gestured back behind him to where a large painting of a waterfall was sitting on an easel stand, proudly on display for all to see, "Turner's masterpiece, thankfully recovered owing to the prodigious talents of Mr Sherlock Holmes and Miss Tyler Jackson," the crowd began to applaud as Tyler felt the back of her neck warming at the attention. The man walked over towards the four of them with two small wrapped gifts in his hands, both tied with a black bow, "Small tokens of our gratitude," he smiled at the two detectives, holding the two gifts out towards them.

"Thank you," Tyler said with the same polite smile, taking the small gift held out to her. It was easy to deduce that it was jewelry, due to the lightness and small size, she would guess a pair of earrings probably. Unlikely that they would present her with a ring and the box was too small to contain a necklace or a bracelet. Those where usually rectangular shaped, this one was a small cube. 

Clara smiled at the blonde and then glanced at Sherlock and sighed under her breathe, lightly nudging his side with a pointed look when he made no move to take his. Sherlock sighed loudly and took his gift, eyeing it for a moment, "Diamond cufflinks," he deduced at once, lowering the gift, "All my cuffs have buttons."

John looked over to the Director, who seemed a little offended by Sherlock's lack of acknowledgement, "He means 'thank you,'" he told the man.

"Do I?" he asked quietly, glancing at John.

"Just say it." Clara sighed out. 

He let out another sigh and turned back to the Director, "Thank you," he said insincerely, slipping his gift inside his coat pocket as he moved to walk away.

Tyler grabbed his arm, pulling him back slightly with a quick look, "Not yet, Sherlock," she whispered, keeping her arm around his to prevent him from trying to run off again.

Sherlock grumbled something under his breathe, but made no attempt to move as the press gathered before them, snapping pictures as the four of them reluctantly stood for the photos, practically counting the seconds until they could escape and get back to Baker Street.

Of course, the story had spread like wild fire through the papers with headlines hailing Tyler and Sherlock 'Heroes of the Reichenback,' some making it seem as if they were complete amateurs who just got lucky, while Scotland Yard were left looking red faced that they had been outmatched. There had even been a piece written in one of the gossip columns speculating at Tyler and Sherlock's relationship after someone had blown one of the pictures up and drawn a big red circle around Tyler's arm looped through Sherlock's, prompting a sudden onslaught of stories that they were secretly dating.

And that was only the very start of it all.

A week later, Tyler and Sherlock found themselves solving the case of a kidnapped banker, managing to track down the man and his kidnappers within twelve hours of taking the case on, bringing him back to his family, completely unharmed. The press had pounced on the case, making the two of them out to be heroes again, and with the all press attention surrounding the case, John, Clara, Tyler, and Sherlock soon found themselves standing awkwardly outside the banker's town house, reluctantly attending the press conference that the man had insisted that they hold as he stood on his front steps with his arms around his young son and wife.

"Back together with my family after my terrifying ordeal," the man was saying to the press as they gathered in a crowd before the man and his family, taking pictures and even with a news crew there, filming the entire thing, "And we have two people to thank for my deliverance," he continued, smiling as he looked across the Tyler, Sherlock, Clara, and John, holding out a hand towards them, "Sherlock Holmes and Tyler Jackson."

The crowd began to applaud as all eyes turned on the four of them. The young boy smiled broadly and held out two neatly wrapped gifts out to Tyler and Sherlock.

Tyler smiled at the boy, taking her own royal blue gift, deducing that this one was definitely a necklace, "Thank you," she nodded, glancing at the couple, carefully tucking it inside her handbag.

Sherlock took his pale blue gift and rattled it slightly, before glancing at John and the girls, "Tie pin," he muttered to them, "I don't wear ties."

"Shh," Clara hushed him quietly as Tyler smiled faintly, noticing Sherlock's exasperated expression.

Another week passed and the four of them found themselves standing in yet another press conference after they managed to catch an infamous criminal that had been on the Most Wanted list. This time it was being held at Scotland Yard where Lestrade was addressing the large crowd of press before them, having been completely delighted when he had first informed them that they would be required to attend. Sherlock, John, and the girls where standing slightly off to the side, listening to Lestrade speak, all the while trying very hard to ignore Donovan and Anderson's amused expressions as they stood at the back of the room, watching the four of them carefully.

They were definitely up to something, Tyler was certain of it, and it was starting to make her nervous. She didn't trust either of them not to do something to humiliate them in front of a room full of press from every newspaper in the country.

"Peter Ricoletti," Lestrade said to the press, sitting at a table before the crowd as flashes of cameras went off, "Number One on Interpol's Most Wanted list since 1982. But we got him, and there's two people we have to thank for giving us the decisive leads..." his mouth twitched slightly, his eyes lingering on Sherlock pointedly, "...with all their customary diplomacy and tact."

Sherlock smiled insincerely over at Lestrade as Clara gave him a quick, warning look, not quite brave enough to dare touch him after what happened when Tyler had done that with a room full of press. The last thing she wanted was to be put in the newspaper as Sherlock's mistress, caught up in a love triangle. Not when her and John had just started dating. 

John leaned closer to Sherlock, "Sarcasm," he told him quietly, just in case he didn't catch it.

"Yes," he agreed, keeping his smile in place.

The press applauded as Lestrade stood and walked over to them, handing both Tyler and Sherlock a slightly shabbily wrapped present each. He smiled at them, his eyes twinkling with barely retrained amusement, "We all chipped in," he informed them.

Tyler narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously and carefully began to tear the paper open, Sherlock doing the same beside her with an eye roll, all the while both very aware that Donovan and Anderson where still watching them with expectant grins as cameras all turned in their direction.

"You have got to be kidding..." Tyler breathed, almost groaning aloud as she tore the paper off to find herself holding a blue scarf that looked just like the one that Sherlock always wore, only someone had stitched hers and Sherlock's initial on the edge of it with a small heart with black thread. Her head snapped up to glare across at Anderson and Donovan, who were struggling not to burst out laughing, just knowing that they were the masterminds behind it.

Sherlock finished unwrapping his own present and pulled out a deerstalker hat, "Oh!" he exclaimed, trying to smile but it came out as more of a pained grimace.

The press went wild, their cameras going off so fast that it was almost blinding with so many flashes and the room was filled with people shouting, "Put the hat on!" one of the reporters called out.

"Miss Jackson, put the scarf on!" another reporter shouted as Tyler and Sherlock both froze, glancing at each other in complete horror at the idea of putting both of their respectful 'gifts' on before a room of cameras, knowing that something like this wouldn't die easily once it hit the web. 

"Yeah, Sherlock, Tyler," Clara grinned at them, clearly enjoying seeing their displeasure, "Put them on!"

Sherlock looked back at the reporters, seeming to be seriously considering every unpleasant way in which he could kill them, while Tyler was debating whether she could pretend to faint to get out of putting the scarf on, knowing that once she had it around her neck, the entire room would be able to see the lettering on full display, when John cleared his throat, "Just get it over with," he muttered hastily to them both.

Tyler took a deep breath and closed her eyes briefly, before opening them again as she shot Lestrade a look that clearly said that he would live to regret this little prank as she wrapped the scarf around her neck, the words clearly on display against her bright magenta dress, while Sherlock shoved the wrapping paper into John's hands, sending the reporters one last glare, before putting the hat on his head.

The room was filled with even more flashbulbs as the crowd applauded. Sherlock gave them a strained smile as Tyler clenched her fists together, her eyes fixed dangerously across the room on Donovan, who clapped sarcastically in delight with Anderson beside her, grinned smugly at the two.

"I'm going to kill them," Tyler hissed through her teeth, her words luckily covered by the clapping.

"Sounds like you're best idea yet," Sherlock murmured, his strained smile still fixed on place, but the look in his eyes even made her nervous.

"Can we maybe not plot a murder in the middle of a Scotland Yard?" Clara sighed, glancing at the two with an exasperated look.

They simply gave her a look as if she was being a complete idiot and went back to glaring down Donovan and Anderson across the room, happily imagining their unpleasant end. Still, the upside was that at least the press managed to get a decent shot of the two of them looking slightly happier.

With their new found fame, it suddenly seemed as if none of them could go anywhere without at least one photographer managing to snap a picture of them. Tyler and Sherlock were still a hot topic in the gossip columns, Tyler had even read one article that claimed that they were expecting after a photographer had got a picture of her passing by a high end baby shop on her way home from getting some dinner with Clara, and that wasn't even the most absurd article that she had seen drifting through the tabloids. 

Of course, the sudden fame wasn't just interfering in their daily lives, it had also seeped into their work and now it had started to become harder to distinguish between people with a real case and those who simply came to them because they wanted to meet London's latest 'heroes'. It had even become so bad that they had started to screen people at the front door, usually a duty that fell to Tyler to do, since Sherlock felt that it was below his ability's.

And with the fame, the nicknames in the papers soon followed, as Sherlock very quickly discovered the morning after the press conference at Scotland Yard. He strolled into the living room, his blue dressing gown billowing behind him over his trousers and button up shirt as he grimaced with a disgruntled expression, holding a folded up newspaper in his hands.

"'Boffin," he scoffed, making John look up from his own paper, sitting on the sofa beside Clara who was reading a rather interesting article that claimed her and Tyler were actually secret lovers. "'Boffin Sherlock Holmes,'" he huffed indignantly as he threw the paper down on the coffee table.

"Everybody gets one," John told him, laying his own open paper down on the coffee table before him.

"One what?" he asked, starting to pace.

"A tabloid nickname," Tyler clarified, closing her magazine and looking up from where she sat sideways across John's chair. "I'm apparently Lady Reichenbach."

"'Subo,'" John remarked, grabbing another paper from the table and running his eyes down the front page, "'Nasty Nick'. Shouldn't worry, I'll probably get one soon."

"Page five, column six, first sentence," Sherlock informed him at once, walking over to the fireplace. John glanced up at him in surprise before flipping the pages, trying to locate the page. He picked up the deerstalker that he had left sitting on the mantle, glaring at it, "Why is it always the hat photograph?" he complained loudly, punching it angrily.

Tyler leant back into the sofa, crossing her legs. She had already made sure to get rid of the scarf she had been given the night before, "Because it was your first real public image, first impressions are important."

John finally seem to find the proper page and stared down at the article, grimacing slightly, "'Bachelor John Watson?'" he read aloud. Clara frowned at that, leaning over his shoulder to look at the page. 

"What sort of hat is it anyway?" Sherlock wondered, eyeing it carefully.

"'Bachelor?'" he repeated, frowning as he looked back up from the page, "What the hell are they implying?"

"Why do Sherlock and Tyler get cute couple names, but we're not even mentioned in here," Clara frowned at the fact no one mentioned her and John. Sure they weren't 'the heroes of Reichenbach' but they could at least get some acknowledgment. 

Sherlock twisted the hat backwards and forwards rapidly, all the while Tyler looked between the three of them, amused by their displeasure, "Is it a cap?" he continued, completely ignoring John as he narrowed his eyes at it, "Why has it got two fronts?"

Tyler shook her head at him, "It's called a deerstalker, Sherlock," she told him, wondering how it was possibe that he, of all people, didn't know that. He had grown up in the countryside, after all.

"'Frequently seen in the company of bachelor John Watson...'" John muttered, running his eyes further down the article. "Oh, oh, oh look at this. And Ethicist Clara Hudson."

"You stalk deer with a hat?" he asked, shaking his head, seeming to be completely baffled by the whole idea as he stared down at the hat, "What are you gonna do, throw it?" he mimicked throwing it out the window, holding it like it was a frisbee.

"No," Tyler laughed, really starting to wonder if he was being serious, or just asking increasingly silly questions to be funny. She could see a glimmer in his eyes as he spoke, one that almost made her think that he was doing it to amuse her. A few months ago she would have thought that she was just overthinking it, but she couldn't help wondering if that was the case now, "People wear it when they go hunting out on the chilly Scottish moors," she explained to him.

"'...confirmed bachelor John Watson!'" John exclaimed, looking at another section of the article, his eyes widening.

"Some sort of death Frisbee?" Sherlock mimed throwing the hat again, his eyes flickering over to Tyler with a hint of teasing, making her smile and shake her head at him, positive he was just doing it because she found it funny.

"Okay, this is too much," Clara sighed, shaking her head as she looked up from the paper, her expression growing serious, "We need to be more careful."

"It's got flaps- ear flaps," he continued, ignoring Clara, frowning down at the hat as he looked at the flaps of fabric on the side of the hat, "It's an ear hat," he said, and skimmed it across the room to Tyler, who easily caught it as it practically landed right in her lap. His frown deepened, glancing back over to Clara, "What do you mean, 'more careful?'" he asked.

"I mean, that isn't a deerstalker now," Clara began, shaking her head as she pointed over to the hat Tyler was still holding, but her eyes were fixed on Sherlock, "It's a Sherlock Holmes hat. I mean, that you and Tyler aren't exactly private detectives anymore," she tried to explain, holding up her thumb and forefinger an inch apart for them to see as she went on, "You're both this far from famous."

Tyler nodded in agreement, definitely seeing her point. The media's interest in them was certainly growing by the day and just these little nicknames were proof enough of that. Soon enough people will probably want them to have interviews and start investigating everything about them from their childhoods upwards, if they weren't already. And Tyler couldn't have that, a lot of her past was covered with aliases and nicknames, but she couldn't risk anyone digging up her past association with Jim. 

"Oh, it'll pass," Sherlock waved him off, flopping down into his armchair, pressing his hands together in front of his mouth.

"It better pass," John commented, still looking very serious, "The press will turn. They always turn, and they'll turn on you two," he finished, pointing between Tyler and Sherlock.

Sherlock lowered his hands from his face and brought them down onto the armrests of his chair, looking back across the room to frown at his flatmate, "It really bothers you," he said, surprised and confused.

"What?"

"What people say?"

"Yes."

"About me?" Sherlock questioned, still frowning at him, "About Tyler? I don't understand, why would it upset you?"

"Sherlock..." Clara sighed.

John held his gaze for a long moment, before looking back down to all the papers spread out over the coffee table before him, shifting slightly in his seat, "Just try to keep a low profile," he told them, looking back up again to Sherlock, "Find yourselves a little case this week. Stay out of the news."

And with that, he picked up his newspaper disappeared behind it, leaving Tyler and Sherlock to exchange a quick look of agreement. They were right, things were fast getting out of hand and if they wanted to try and regain their previous press free lives, they would need to slow things down a bit, hopefully give the news a chance to focus on someone else for a change and forget about them. The press could be fickle that way, hopefully they could use that fickleness to their advantage.

~*~

Two days later, Tyler and Sherlock had taken John and Clara's advice and taken up a low profile case that was easily solved within a day of taking it on. Sherlock was sitting at his kitchen table, looking through his microscope with Tyler sitting across from him going through a couple of cases they had in the consideration pile while Clara was standing at the kitchen cabinets, making herself and Tyler a cup of tea, just pouring boiling water into the two tea cups when a phone dinged from somewhere in the living room. She paused and glanced over towards the sound, before shaking her head and going back to making her tea when she realized that it wasn't her phone.

John walked into the room in his bathrobe that was tied around his middle, toweling his wet hair dry, having just finished his shower. He heard the sound and glanced at Tyler as he walked passed her chair , "It's your phone," he said to her, moving around the table.

"Yeah, It's Greg," Tyler mumbled, not looking from her notebook. "I'm ignoring him." She hadn't even glanced at the message, simply saw his name and ignored it, still upset with him about the prank he pulled on her during the press conference.

John looked at Clara, his eyebrows raised in question. Clara simply shook her head and pushed up on her toes to give him a quick kiss that wasn't so quick. They were both smiling when they pulled apart, Clara just couldn't get over his lips. With both cups in her hands she moved around him and set one down in front of Tyler before leaning over her shoulder to read the case files. 

John shook his head and headed into the living room, not even pausing when he caught sight of a male mannequin hanging from a noose around its neck from the ceiling, wearing a black suit. He settled into his armchair, picking up his newspaper that was sitting on a small table beside him, briefly running his eyes down the front page. No sign of any mention of Sherlock or Tyler, thankfully.

"So," he began, the rope around the mannequins neck squeaking slightly on the plastic as it swayed gently in the faint breeze through the room, "Did Sherlock just talk to him for a really long time?" he asked jokingly, opening the first page of the paper.

Clara moved to stand in the doorway with her tea, glancing at the mannequin, "Not quite," she smiled slightly, seeing Sherlock roll his eyes out of the corner of her eyes, "I'm afraid that Henry Fishgard didn't commit suicide."

Sherlock pulled his eyes off his microscope and picked up an old hardback book that was sitting on the table beside him, "Bow Street Runners..." he remarked, slamming it shut, sending a small cloud of dust into the air, "Missed everything," he slammed it back down onto a pile of other books he had stacked up beside him, returning his attention to his microscope.

"Pressing case, is it?" John said, glancing back over his shoulder to him, before returning to his paper. Tyler moved to sit on the sofa, slipping her boots off and curling her legs beneath her, sipping her tea.

"They're all pressing 'til they're solved." Tyler argued. 

Clara soon finished her tea and sat the empty cup down on the coffee table, pulling out her phone. She had just sent off a reply to a message Molly had sent her when Tyler's phone trilled again, signalling another text alert.

John lowered his paper and glanced over to it, before sighing as he closed it completely, "I'll get it, shall I?" he said sarcastically, knowing that Tyler wasn't going to anytime soon. She could be really stubborn when she wanted to be. He tossed his paper onto the table beside him and stood, stepping over to where the phone was sitting on the table beside Tyler's chair, picking it up, and checking the message.

Clara watched him, lowering her own phone to see all the color drain from his face and for a shocked expression to quickly cross it as he read the message, "John?" she asked, concerned.

His head snapped up to look at her at the sound of her voice, and it was something about the look on his face that made her stomach drop. He hesitated, before holding the slim device out towards her, "I think you had better see this," he told her quietly.

She frowned and crossed the room to take the phone. She met his eyes briefly and he gave her a prompting look. Slowly, she looked down at the phone's screen and almost immediately, she felt herself start shaking as she read the message. The first two were indeed from Greg Lestrade, but the last one was from someone she didn't expect nor welcome back. 

"Is that...?" Clara trailed off, not wanting to say the name.

John nodded, "Yeah."

"Oh, God," she gasped, her hand flying to cover her mouth.

Now that got Tyler's attention, she looked up with a deep frown at her dark haired friend, "Clara, what's wrong?" She asked slowly. Clara simply shook her head and crossed over to the blonde to show her the message on her own phone. 

A look of concentration passed over her face as she looked it over quickly, then it shifted to a look of horror and then completely blank. She knew this was coming eventually, she just didn't expect it to be so soon. She licked her lips and pushed up out of her chair, leaving the flat with her jacket draped over her arm and her shoes in her hands.

This time it was Sherlock who looked up, frowning, "let me see." He held out a hand for the phone, but he kept his eyes trained on the door that Tyler had just left through. Clara shared a hesitant look with John before handing over the phone for Sherlock to read the message himself.

Come and play, my love.

Tower Hill.

Jim Moriarty x.

Sherlock's eyes widened as he fell back against his chair, looking off into space.

It was later on in the afternoon when they found Tyler already at the Tower of London where several police cars parked outside with police wandering around, some trying to hold back members of the press who had caught word that something had happened. Lestrade met them at the entrance and lead them through the building to the security room to show them the footage of Moriarty breaking into the glass display that contained the Crown Jewels, having also somehow managed to break into the Bank of England and Pentonville Prison at the same time.

Clara watched intently as Jim stuck something onto the glass display case, having already completely cleared the room of tourists by somehow setting off the security shut down and then knocking out one of the security guards with some sort of spray. She leaned closer to the screen, narrowing her eyes to try and workout exactly what it was that he was sticking on to the case, when she realized that it was a piece of chewing gum, but as he proceeded to press something else into the gum, it was impossible to make out from the distance the camera was on exactly what it was.

"That glass is tougher than anything," Lestrade remarked, watching the footage play over.

"Not tougher than crystallised carbon," Sherlock said simply.

Clara nodded slowly, "a Diamond."

"Wait," Tyler leaned forward and pressed a button on the keyboard, switching to the camera on the other side of the room, closer to the case to show Jim holding a fire extinguisher up, having just smashed the glass casing. She hit reverse on the footage and they watched as the glass flew back into place to show a message that he had scrawled across the glass with a big smiley face in the 'O,' the message reading:

Get Tyler Rose

Tyler swallowed thickly and reached out to steady herself on the edge of the desk, feeling ill just watching the footage as Sherlock stared at the screen, his eyes fixed on it. John glanced quickly between the two, concern washed over him for his two friends then over at Clara who had her eyes fixed on Tyler, chewing on her lower lip. It was going to be worse this time, she just knew it.

All the papers were calling it the crime of the century with people everywhere coming up with different theories of how Moriarty could have possibly broken into three different places at once. And, of course, somehow it had gotten out into the press that Tyler had been requested personally by a message left at the crime scene. The photo of Tyler's name written across the display case had even been leaked out into the paper within hours of the news being broken, Lestrade had been furious when it had first been printed on the front page, but he still hadn't been able to find out just who had been responsible.

Tyler was standing before the mirror hanging in her room, her fingers trembling very faintly with nerves as she put in her pair of gold stud earrings, her face was very pale making her dark red wine lipstick and thin eyeliner contrast against it. She was wearing black Kate Spade pumps, a light grey, ruffled pencil skirt with a thick black belt around her waist, and a white blouse tucked into her skirt. She had also tied her hair up into a neat bun with two braids wrapping around it and dark red nail polish. 

"You don't have to speak today, you know." Clara's voice drifted over her, making her blink and look up to see her standing behind her in the mirror.

She was wearing a pair of tan heels, a pair of dark skinny jeans with a thin brown belt around her waist, and a white blouse tucked into her jeans that she had a tan blazer folded neatly across. She had her hair up in a wrapped ponytail save for her bangs, along with a pair of diamond stud earrings, lip gloss, thin eyeliner and black nail polish. 

She sighed heavily, dropping her hand from her earring, but she still felt like she needed to be fiddling with something, "yes, I do. This is my fault. I led Jim here to you, to all of you. So, I have to be the one to stop him." 

Clara turned to face her properly, eyeing her carefully as she heard the front door open, signalling Sherlock and John had finished getting ready and came in. "Tyler..." She said slowly, sounding very concerned. "If you do this..."

"Then the whole world finds out the truth," She finished for her. "I know, Clara. I've known for the past three years that I wouldn't be able to keep it hidden forever, that one day people would find out that I almost married a criminal mastermind. And yes," She sighed again, going over to her dresser to pack her bag. "I know that once it all comes out today, my entire reputation is ruined. My career..." She broke off with a mocking laugh, one that made Clara frown and share a worried glance with the two boys in the doorway. "Who's gonna want me to take on their case after this?"

"Clara's right," Sherlock remarked suddenly.

Clara blinked, glancing back over to the curly haired detective with wide eyes, "I'm sorry, can you repeat that?" she asked, a smile crossing her face.

Sherlock gave her an exasperated look, before focusing on Tyler, his expression softening slightly, "You don't have to speak today," he continued as if Clara hadn't spoken, "And as for your career if you do decide to..." his voice grew firmer, "If people want to bring their cases to me, then they will have to bring them to you."

Tyler stared at him for a long moment, quite shocked, "Sherlock, that's..." she shook her head and threw her arms around him in a tight hug before he could try to escape. He didn't exactly hug her back at first, he seemed too startled and unsure of just what he was supposed to do as he stood stoic, still for a second or two, before hesitantly hugging her back, awkwardly patting her back.

John's eyes widened as he looked at them both, unsure of just what he was witnessing happening before him. As far as he knew they had barely brushed hands in the past and he couldn't even recall ever seeing Sherlock be hugged before, let along hugging someone back, be it very stiffly. He was half tempted to check out the window to make sure the world wasn't ending, or that a great wave of water wasn't about to crash over London and destroy everything. First Moriarty finally got caught by the police and now Sherlock and Tyler were hugging? That had to mean something was about to happen to the planet.

Tyler pulled back from Sherlock, finding it quite amusing to notice a faint pink coloring high in his cheekbones, "Do you really mean that?" she questioned, smiling at him, "if you do this it could be a while before you get another case, you know that right?"

Sherlock cleared his throat slightly awkwardly, meeting her eyes, "Of course I'm serious," he said, rolling his eyes at her as if she was being purposely idiotic.

She grinned broadly, trying hard to hold herself back from hugging him again, knowing that he wouldn't be overly keen on another hug any time soon, but she had just been so surprised and touched by what he had said, and with everything else that was going on, she just couldn't stop herself. "You have no idea how much that means to me," she settled on saying instead.

"I think I have some idea," he muttered, smoothing down the front of his shirt and blazer.

"What are you going to do?" John looked to Tyler, making her smile fade to be replaced with a heavy sigh.

"I have to speak," she said after a moment, her expression determined, "this is my battle."

Clara gave her a small smile, knowing how hard she was trying to seem as if she was okay, when she wasn't. How could anyone be okay when they were about to publicly admit one of their biggest secrets? But she was making an effort to try and seem like she was handling it all fine, so she decided it was better not to mention anything and just wait to be there when it eventually all came crumbling down.

"We should be going," Sherlock commented, checking his watch, catching their attention.

Tyler nodded, her cheeks growing quite pale as she hastily cast her reflection another look, before grabbing her handbag, reaching inside it to remove a pair of black rounded sunglasses, and moving to follow Sherlock out the living room door. John and Clara hurried after them, heading off downstairs, and down the hallway towards the front door. Sherlock and Tyler moved to stand against the wall as John walked past them, grabbing the door handle, the four of them knowing what was waiting for them outside.

John paused, taking a deep breath as he glanced back to them, "Ready?" he asked.

"Yes," Sherlock replied, and for the first time he had actually seemed slightly nervous. Tyler wasn't the only one to be speaking today, he would be too. Tyler slipped her sunglasses on, trying to prepare herself as she gave John a nod.

Clara met his gaze and she nodded, "let's do this."

John tried to brace himself as he turned the door handle and pulled it open. At once, the sound of people shouting and calling out questions greeted them, almost at a deafening noise levels as they stepped outside. Police officers were there to hold the reporters back, trying to clear a free path for the four of them towards the waiting police car at the curb as they tried desperately to ignore the clicking of cameras going off all around them and shouting. Sherlock was behind Tyler, his hand resting lightly on her lower back as she kept her face down and her eyes focused on her shoes, just trying to keep the heel of Clara's heels in her line of sight as she moved.

Finally, they reached the car and quickly climbed inside the back, Sherlock slamming his door closed as the reporters tried swarming around the car with their cameras pressed against the windows but thankfully, the driver drove off down the street the moment the door was shut, heading to the Old Bailey Court with the sirens blaring.

Tyler released a shaky breathe, closing her eyes in relief of getting out of the crazy mess of reporters. Clara and the boys had managed to shield her from a lot of the reporters that had managed to get through the police guard, but she had still been slightly jostled and overwhelmed by all the noise. She wasn't used to so many people trying to talk to her or shoving cameras in her face, her eyes were still feeling funny after all the flashes even with the sunglasses shielding them.

"That was completely mental," Clara muttered, shaking her head. "But, I suppose it could have been worse."

"It's only going to get worse when we get to the court," John sighed, looking out the window as the car began to drive around Trafalgar Square. He cleared his throat, glancing passed the girls to Sherlock, "Remember..." he began.

"Yes," Sherlock cut him off instantly, not looking away from his own window.

"Remember..." he tried again, more insistently.

"Yes."

"Sherlock," Clara sighed, shaking her head, "Just let him talk."

John looked away for a moment, frustrated, before looking back over to Sherlock, "Remember what they told you," he said quickly, finally managing to get it out without an interruption, his eyes fixed on his flatmate, "Don't try to be clever..."

"No," Sherlock spoke over him, but he simply continued. Tyler nudged Sherlock's side with a pointed look.

"...and please, just keep it simple and brief."

He rolled his eyes, exasperated, "God forbid one of the star witnesses at the trial should come across as intelligent," he muttered sarcastically.

"'Intelligent?' Fine. Let's give 'smart-arse' a wide berth." Clara sassed, throwing him a sarcastic smile. There was a short pause as Tyler looked between her two friends, just knowing that Sherlock was going to completely ignore every word that John and Clara had said.

"I'll just be myself," Sherlock eventually replied, looking back out the window.

"Are you listening to me?" John demanded, annoyed, sounding more like he was talking to a child rather than a grown man.

Tyler sighed, "Just leave it, Johnny," she told him tiredly, glancing over to him. She really didn't have enough patience to be doing this today, but she did feel bad for Sherlock. She understood where a lot of his frustration and irritation at people came from, she just was better at handling it then him, "if things go sideways, I'll bail him out. It's fine."

John blinked at her in surprise as she looked back to stare out the front window, completely ignoring both men as well as Clara. Sherlock was even looking at her in surprise, but he soon looked back outside his own window, the corner of his mouth twitching. 

~*~

"Okay, just keep calm," Tyler whispered to her own reflection as she stood in the ladies bathroom of the court, looking up at the mirror on the wall before her. She was going to be called first to speak, then followed by Sherlock, and she was completely terrified.

"Crown versus Moriarty," the tanny announced through the speakers, echoing off the bathroom tiles, "Please proceed to Court Ten."

She longed to just throw water on her face to try and rid herself to nauseating feeling that was washing over her, but she couldn't with her makeup. Instead, she slipped her handbag open and pulled out her lipstick, quickly freshening up her lips. 

She slipped it back into her bag and carefully dabbed at the corners of her mouth with a piece of tissue, before giving her reflection one last look. She didn't look very empowered, more frightened and terribly nervous, but what more could she do? She sighed and headed for the door, slipping outside to look around. John and Clara would have already left for the court room, but Sherlock had only just ducked into the bathroom before she had. She slipped her bag over her shoulder and began to head off down the hallway, when she heard a muffled female voice coming from the male bathroom.

She frowned and turned back to eye the door with the little stick figure man stuck on plaque on the door. That had definitely been a women's voice and it was coming from the wrong bathroom. She hesitated, casting a quick look behind her, but the room was practically empty and those who were around seemed too busy to pay any attention to her. She pushed the door open and moved to step inside, her curiosity getting the better of her, only to stop short as she found Sherlock standing rather close to a young red headed women, her hair tied up in pigtail plaits and with a deerstalker hat on. She also had several 'I Heart Sherlock' badges pinned to her front, Tyler noted as they both looked over to her as the door swung closed behind her.

"Unbelievable," Tyler said after a moment, exasperated, shaking her head as she looked at the woman, "Is there nowhere that the press won't go to get a story?"

A smile worked its way across the woman's face as she moved towards her, "Tyler Jackson," she remarked, "So it's true. You're just as good as he is," she nodded her head back to Sherlock.

Tyler gave her a tight smile, "No comment," she looked past her to Sherlock, "We should be going, Sherlock."

Sherlock seemed more than happy to leave as he pushed past the women, heading for the door with Tyler, but the women chased after them, "You two, just platonic?" she asked hurriedly as they both ignored her, "Can I put you down for a 'no' there, as well?" she managed to beat Tyler to the door, pushing herself in front of the door, blocking them. She looked between them both as Sherlock looked as if he was only just stopping himself from snapping angrily and Tyler could feel her own temper starting to rise, "There's all sorts of gossip in the press about you two," she continued, "Sooner or later you're gonna need someone on your side, especially you Miss Jackson," she reached into her pocket and withdrew a business card, slipping it into Sherlock's breast pocket, "...someone to set the record straight." Her eyes flicked between the two of them. 

He smiled sarcastically at her, as if she had said something very funny, "And you think you're the girl for that job, do you?"

"I'm smart, and you can trust me, totally."

"Smart, okay," he nodded, humoring her for the moment, "Investigative journalist. Good. Well, look at me and tell me what you see," he told her, swaying around slightly in front of her as she simply blinked at him blankly, "If you're that skillful, you don't need an interview. You can just read what you need," he paused, watching her carefully as she simply looked awkward, not meeting his eyes. Tyler sighed slightly, "No?" he raised his eyebrows at her, "Okay, my turn," he began to pace around her, talking fast, "I look at you and I see someone who's still waiting for their first big scoop so that their editor will notice them."

"That's actually quite a nice skirt," Tyler commented, glancing down at the dark grey pencil skirt the women was wearing, "Expensive, nice fabric, however it's at least three years old and has been rehemmed twice during that time," her eyes lingered on the faint lines that ran around the hemline, "Which means that it's the only expensive one that you own. And then there's your nails..." her eyes drifted down to rest on her fingers, focusing on the badly chipped, reddish nail polish that had practically all worn off now, "A women in your profession wouldn't allow her nails to ever get into that state, so you can't afford to have them done very often." Tyler crossed her arms and Sherlock took note of the dark look in her eyes. "I don't see smart, in fact I don't even see trustworthy, but I'll give you a nice little quote if you'd like," She smiled sarcastically taking the Dictaphone that the girl had hidden in her jacket pocket, holding it to her mouth. "Go to Hell." She said, deliberately slow. Now was so not the time, she had no patience for any of this. "Sherlock would you like to add anything. 

"No, I think you covered it all." And with that, they turned and left the bathroom. 

~*~

Tyler took a deep breath as she stood in the witness box of the court room, trying with all her willpower not to look in the direction of Jim Moriarty standing in the dock across the room from her, feeling everyone's eyes on her around the room. Clara gave her an encouraging nod from where she was sitting with John in the public gallery upstairs and she weakly returned it, her eyes drifted over to where Sherlock was sitting on one of the polished wooden benches towards the front of the court room, and their eyes met briefly for a moment before she pulled her attention back to the prosecuting barrister, a Miss Sorrel as she stepped forward.

"Miss Jackson," the women began, her voice ringing out loudly and clearly throughout the entire room, "what is your relation to the defendant."

Tyler licked her lips hesitantly, finally letting her eyes meet Jim's, seeing him already staring at her, a coy smile drew upon his lips as his eyes took in every inch of her. She could feel her heart beating rapidly, feeling like it could burst out at any moment. "We were involved." She finally got out, hearing the whispers pick up in the crowd.

The whispering continued, and the judge sighed in exasperation and tapped his gavel on the wooden bench before him, "Silence in the gallery!" he ordered, and the whispering stopped at once. He looked back down to the prosecuting barrister, "Go on, Miss Sorrel."

Sorrel inclined her head towards him, turning back to face Tyler, "And how would you describe your relationship with him?" she questioned, raising her eyebrows.

"We were engaged," She finally admitted, shifting in her seat slightly as she finally pulled her gaze from Jim and down to Miss Sorrel. "For about a year, I was the one to break it off. He wasn't who I thought he was."

"Can you please elaborate further?"  

Tyler breathed in deeply, nodding, "Jimm- James," She quickly stopped herself from using the nickname. "Was sweet, and charming... but only to me." There was this part of her that loved that, loved that at the time when he would be so cruel and menacing to everyone he could still turn around and be the sweetest thing to her. But, now, after what he did, she couldn't look at him the same. "To everyone else he was cruel, and nasty, and down right evil, to my sisters especially."

"Where are your sister's now?"

"Relevance," the man at the shiny bench with a powder wigs shot up. 

"Sustained," The judge ordered, turning to miss Sorrel with a pointed look. "Move it along."

She nodded, turning back to Tyler promptingly. "Well, one works for the government now, and the other is... dead. James killed her." She turned dark eyes back to Jim, noticing his facial expression to be a mixture of amusement and a grim smile. 

"How so?"

Tyler opened her mouth to explain, but stopped. To tell this story she would have explain everything, everything in her past. Clara thought her biggest secret was being involved with a murderer, but her biggest secret was she was one herself. A hired one. "I had gotten into some trouble," Tyler began hesitantly, trying to be as vague as possible, but not too vague as to not get any further questions. "Someone was coming after me, trying to kill me. James sent my sister in instead, knowingly sending her to her death. So, I left. I came here, where I met Dr. Hudson. Two years later I met Mr. Holmes and Dr. Watson."

"And you had no contact with the defendant after that."

"He texted me once," Tyler admitted, remembering the case with the cab driver. "It was during my first case with Mr. Holmes and Dr. Watson." 

Sorrel moved back over to where she had a set of notes sitting on her table, quickly checking something, "'A Study in Pink,' that was the first time in two years that you had any contact with him?" she questioned, moving back towards the witness box.

Tyler noted with some amusement the flash of annoyance that crossed Sherlock's face at the name, "Yes," she confirmed.

"And since then, have you had any other contact with him?"

"Aside from when he kidnapped Dr. Hudson, and almost blew us all up? Yes, briefly," she tried to ignore the surprised look that she knew Clara must have had cross her face, "Shortly before last Christmas he tracked me down in a café while I waited for a friend to arrive."

"And what was the context of your conversation?"

"Mainly it was him making threats against people's lives, nothing out of the ordinary," she replied, making sure to only tell half the story and gloss over quite a bit of what really happened. She still remembered just what he had said he would do if she told anyone to much of what happened, she wasn't going to take that risk, even now.

Sorrel nodded, "I have one last question, Miss Jackson," she told her, "to be engaged with someone, you'd have to have deep feelings for them. You loved James Moriarty at one point, correct?"

Tyler hesitated feeling all eyes on her like a million little pinpricks, "Yes."

"Would you say that, that is still true today?"

Tyler hesitated, swallowing hard as her eyes came to land on Jim, who actually seemed to be listening. His face was blank at the question, like he, himself was waiting for the answer. "No..." She whispered, shaking her head timidly as she held his gaze seeing something flash in his eyes, sadness maybe, anger. "He is, without a doubt, the most dangerous man I have ever met, he nearly killed my only three friends in this world, so... no," she forced herself to look back to Sorrel, "I do not love James Moriarty, not anymore."

Silence filled the room as Sorrel maintained eye contact with her for a long moment, "Thank you, Miss Jackson," she inclined her head towards her, "That will be all".

It was Sherlock's turn to take the witness box, while Tyler took a seat on the prosecution side of the court room, sitting towards the front row, feeling as if a heavy weight had been lifted off her shoulders after speaking. She had been warned that given her connection to Jim that she might be called as a witness again at another time, but right now she could care less. Still, she knew that the relief would be short lived once the truth hit the press, she didn't doubt that she would end up spending the next few weeks locked away back at Baker Street. 

"A 'consulting criminal?'" Sorrel repeated, raising her eyebrows at Sherlock after she had asked him to classify exactly what he believed Moriarty's profession to be.

"Yes," Sherlock confirmed.

"Your words," she continued, "Can you expand on that answer?"

"James Moriarty is for hire."

"A transman?"

"Yes," he nodded, so far managing to keep his answers brief, just as John had reminded him to do.

"But not the sort who'd fix your heating?"

"No, the sort who'd plant a bomb or stage an assassination, but I'm sure he'd make a pretty decent job of your boiler." A few people muffled their laughter around the room as Sorrel even hid her own smile. Tyler's mouth twitched very slightly, just imagining John's sigh and Clara giggle.

"Would you describe him as-" Sorrel began, her smile fading.

"Leading," Sherlock cut across her.

"What?" she asked, confused.

"Can't do that," he went on, his eyes flickering back over to her, "You're leading the witness, you did it earlier with Tyler, too," he looked over to where the defending barrister was sitting on the other side of the room, while Tyler sighed slightly, "He'll object and the judge will uphold."

The judge cast him an exasperated look, this having not been the first time Sherlock had made a remark about the way the prosecuting barrister had posed a question, "Mr Holmes..." he started in a warning tone.

"Ask me how," Sherlock went on to Sorrel, "How would I describe him? What opinion have I formed of him? Do they not teach you this?" he shook his head at her in annoyance as Tyler noticed Clara reach up to rub her forehead.

"Mr Holmes," the judge said warily, "We're fine without your help."

"How would you describe this man, his character?" Sorrel corrected, raising her eyebrows at Sherlock.

"First mistake," he said, his eyes moving up towards the dock to land on Moriarty, who looked back at him quite calmly, "James Moriarty isn't a man at all, he's a spider; a spider at the center of a web, a criminal web with a thousand threads and he knows precisely how each and every single one of them dances." James smirked back at him and nodded very slightly, almost as if he was approving of his description. Correction, Tyler knew he approved of it. 

The prosecuting barrister cleared her throat awkwardly, glancing down at something written in her notes on the table before her, "And how long..." she began.

"No, no," Sherlock shook his head, closing his eyes briefly in exasperation, "Don't...don't do that," he told her, "That's really not a good question."

"Mr Holmes!" the judge called angrily, starting to lose his patients. Clara bit her lip, hoping Sherlock would notice her warning look.

"How long have I known him?" he sighed, before looking back over to Sorrel, "Not really your best line of inquiry. We met twice, five minutes in total," he informed the rest of the room, "I pulled a gun, he tried to blow me up," his voice grew sarcastic, "I felt we had a special something."

The judge frowned and looked over to the prosecuting barrister, "Miss Sorrel, are you seriously claiming this man is an expert, after knowing the accused for just five minutes?" he questioned, highly doubtful.

Sorrel opened her mouth to reply, but Sherlock cut across her again, "Two minutes would have made me an expert," he said to the judge, "Five was ample."

"Mr Holmes, that's a matter for the jury."

"Oh, really?" he raised his eyebrows, his voice light as he looked across the room to the twelve men and women sitting in the jury box. Clara sighed heavily, almost groaning aloud as she realized that this really wasn't going to end well. He eyed them carefully for a moment, "One librarian," he deduced, "Two teachers, two high-pressured jobs, probably the City," he seemed to focus on a women taking notes on the far left of the front row, "The foreman's a medical secretary, trained abroad judging by her shorthand," he determined, making the women look up in surprise.

"Mr Holmes!"

He completely ignored the judge, still running his eyes over the jury, "Seven are married and two are having an affair - with each other, it would seem!" a man and women sitting together at the back row awkwardly avoided looking at each other, "Oh, and they've just had tea and biscuits," he turned to look back at the judge, raising a slightly mocking eyebrow, "Would you like to know who ate the wafer?"

"Mr Holmes!" the judge snapped angrily, "You've been called here to answer Miss Sorrel's questions, not to give us a display of your intellectual prowess..."

Sherlock took a deep breath and glanced across to Tyler, smirking at the remark on his intelligence. Tyler rolled her eyes slightly and tried to mask her own amused smile. It was a nice toss up from how intense this court case seemed to be. 

"Keep your answers brief and to the point," the judge continued firmly, "Anything else will be treated as contempt..." Sherlock rolled his eyes, "Do you think you could survive for just a few minutes without showing off?" he shouted the last two words furiously.

"Oh, dear God..." Clara breathed, closing her eyes tightly and shaking her head. And to think, she had actually thought Sherlock might be able to keep his mouth shut for a few minutes, how laughably wrong could you get?

Sherlock paused, almost as if he was considering the question, before he opened his mouth to draw in a breathe...