Watching the mortification grow on the boy’s face, Sherlock chuckled to himself. He really did seem as if this was the worst possible scenario for him to be in. “It sounds as if you are my….rival of sorts. Someone who is supposedly going to usurp me from my position as arguably the greatest detective in Europe. “You are correct about the media. They spend months building a person up as an icon to be admired before tearing them down with as much aggression as a lioness uses to tear her prey to shreds. The papers are willing to cause conflict and pit anyone against one another if it creates a good story. I found that out the hard way.” Sherlock sighed gently.
While it was evident that James was simply trying to patch any damage the artical had used via flattery, Sherlock felt a flutter of pride at hearing the young detective compliment his brilliance nonetheless. “I forgive you for everything but being stupid enough to allow you agent to dress you in the deerstalker. A man who is meant to be the one to steal my crown should make better choices.” Sherlock smiled. “If you are desperate to be seen in one because of the reference to myself then you should come to 221B and I would give you one of the mine. I have been sent more than I ever would want.” Now that Hakuba seemed to not be hiding his face so much in shame, Sherlock felt it best to express his nonchalance about what had been said. “Fret not about those silly rumours. I am annoyed but not at you, more so the papers for diminishing all that I do. From what I have seen today and what was said in the papers you appear to be somewhat promising. I may feel you will never match myself but I still think you should strive to do your best if this is what you want to do with your life.” The detective smirked. “Oh and you can quote me on that the next time the papers come around.”
Well… that certainly could have gone worse.
Hakuba released a shaky breath which turned into a sigh as he nodded, adjusting his suit absentmindedly to keep his hands busy while his mind processed everything that had just been said. It broke down, as far as he could tell, into something like this:
- the classification as rival (a threat and a compliment both, putting him on the same level as Mr. Holmes to start)
- a warning about the media (another threat, illustrating the severity through a violent metaphor)
- a personal anecdote (adding weight to the threat as well as a show of, perhaps, mentor-ship? A generous gesture, at any rate)
- a well-placed insult (for letting said media make him look a fool, thus jeopardizing his status as equal and playing the blame squarely upon his own shoulders- taking responsibility for yourself is paramount if you’re to be an independent and equal)
- …coupled with forgiveness (perhaps as a sign of willingness to share a common enemy?)
- a baited lure (to tempt him into revealing more amateurish, fanatical behavior)
- a series of backhanded compliments (to put him back in his place, somewhere on the low-end of the totem pole)
- casual encouragement (passive aggressive at best)
- a supply of ammunition for the paper (which he could not use, as it would compromise his own reputation, thus catching him in a never ending cycle of defeat)
In short, it was a fair and just punishment, fitting in terms of style, tactfulness, and still correctly so, all within the context of the great Sherlock Holmes. The young detective looked from the man to the building, then back to the man with a weary expression. What was he do to? Roll over submissively, proving that he lacked the confidence to be his own person in the face of adversity, regardless if it came from friend or foe? He certainly didn’t lavish the idea of lashing out at him, either… it wasn’t Sherlock’s fault, as he’d mentioned, that the rest of the world seemed so intent on destroying everything it could get its greasy hands onto.
And so, after a moment, he nodded, turning his face to a portrait of careful, reserved, neutrality.
“I shall take your words into advisement, Mr. Holmes, and do well to remember them. As for the ear hat, as you so sweetly refer to it as, I must decline…” Hakuba allowed the faintest quirk of a smirk at the corner of his lip. "Save, of course, you permit me to take one only as a token in the most sarcastic fashion, as a momento to the conversation that we’d just had over tea in regards to the detestable people of this city and the world and how much we genuinely loathe them, despite our reluctant admission that they are there and thus, we have no choice but to interact.“
He paused for breath and, perhaps, for a bit of theatrics, before continuing.
"So if you’re inviting me to 221B for tea and a good time, then I will happily accept without hesitation, and would be very glad to take an atrocious hat off of your hands. However, I do believe that we’re wasting your valuable time, Mr. Holmes, and I should very much like to use my reported agreeable personality to charm our way into the viewing room, if you please.”
Hakuba reached for the door and held it open for him, brows lifted in curious amusement. This had been a high stakes play; either Sherlock would accept the challenge and all things would go swimmingly, he assumed, OR everything would completely fall apart. Either way, the young detective’s true colors had been laid on the table… it was only a matter, then, of seeing how they’d be received.
