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wewillstartwiththeridingcrop:

While he listened to the young detective begin to piece together what he was trying to say, Sherlock silently observed him with a hardened, almost unreadable expression. This person was certainly not unpleasant or difficult to converse with but Sherlock wasn’t sure how he was supposed to be so much more amicable and pleasantly charming than himself. Hakuba was definitely very clever and therefore had a very active mind. Like Sherlock’s, it seemed to be like a bee hive with ideas and thoughts swirling round simultaneously. This gave him a coldness to his attitude that was all too evident to the consulting detective, perhaps because this a trait that he identified himself as also possessing. He was a good detective and an opportunist, much of his charm therefore must stem from him projecting a more friendly approachable facade that would allow him to get the information he needs to do his job.

Upon hearing James decline the gift of one of the hats, Sherlock’s expression faltered and he looked a little surprised. Few ever declined anything from him, especially the gift of one of his own belongings for free. It was almost unheard of in this day and age where he and John were constantly being ambushed by the media at inopportune times. “Oh, is that so? Many would be falling down at my feet in gratitude at the offer yet you brush it off so casually. You may see it as a token of whatever you wish, including your adventure here with me if you desire. What you do with it once you leave is irrelevant to me. If I am going to be eternally remembered in that accursed piece of headgear then I would like it to be a symbol of just how loathsome and detestable the world around us truly is. Still, it is the horrors of the world that provide me with sport and entertainment so I shouldn’t be so harsh on it.”

The detective’s gaze hardened as James mentioned how much time was being wasted and he scowled slightly. “I think I am more than capable of monitoring my own time on my own case without your input, as helpful as you may be trying to be, My Hakuba. You may be my supposed successor but let us not forget I am no amateur neither am I anywhere near past my prime.” he stated in a cool tone, stalking closely past the young detective and into the door, his Belstaff coat brushing against him as he passed by. Once he was just inside Sherlock turned on his heel and gestured with his head for Hakuba to follow. “You wish to be of some use to me by utilizing your charm? So be it. Your visually appealing face should be used for something other than as a tool in your flirting after all. I don’t normally hand over the reins to anyone but I must admit I am intrigued by you enough to like you at this current time. Prove your usefulness to me, Mr Hakuba. I am waiting.”

So it was going to be like that then? Hakuba took another breath, steeling himself against rising to the bait, though it was difficult. Very difficult. Instead, to Sherlock, he offered a cool smile as he entered the building, nodding his head in concession.

He’d heard many things about dealing with Mr. Holmes in person, and so far, he was finding that many of the claims had been… justified. However, if the study of difficult people had taught him anything, it was that unreasonable expectations and misunderstandings were often the cause of such cold behavior. Sherlock was not a patient man, clearly, and with being forced to deal with such dull and often destructive people, day in and day out, who could blame him? That in mind, it only made sense to the young detective to grin and bear it as patiently as he could. 

…besides, Mr. Holmes had just called him handsome. And sort of said that he was a flirt. Was this a good thing? He couldn’t tell, but somehow it pleased him. Just a little bit. 

“I’ll look forward to a formal invitation to Baker Street in that case, Mr. Holmes, and will leave it to you to pass on your deerstalker crown when you’re adequately ready,” Hakuba said as he walked past him and into the lobby, heading toward the reception desk. What he’d said was a playful tease, and he hoped that the smile he offered afterward made that evident.

Regardless, he didn’t give his idol the chance to rebuttal before he came to lean on the counter, face relaxing into a casual, charming expression of warmth.

“Afternoon, Miss Wells! It’s a pleasure to see you again. Do you mind if… my associate and I nip up to the security office to review the last hour or so of footage? I promise we won’t be long.”

The receptionist glanced up from her work and let her gaze move from Hakuba, whom she knew from previous visits, to Sherlock, whom she’d seen on the telly, and quirked a brow before turning back to the younger of the detectives. “Certainly, James… I’ll let them know you both are coming." 

While she lifted the receiver to inform the security team, Hakuba gave a nod, a quiet ‘thank you,’ and gestured toward the door leading to the stairwell. 

"This way, Mr. Holmes.”

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wewillstartwiththeridingcrop:

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. 

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wewillstartwiththeridingcrop:

Flicking his gaze up to momentarily glance at the teen as he began to speak in a more hurried and defensive tone, Sherlock smirked to himself. “Oh I don’t doubt that. I am sure you are decent at best as a detective and I will be wasting my time. Still it always helps to check over these sort of things” Sherlock stated dryly. “I am curious to know what sort of expertise you have. Your name appeared very quickly when I imputed part of it in the search bar so there is perhaps hope for you yet.”

The first thing that caught Sherlock’s attention was that his companion appeared to be wearing a deerstalker in the photo. There was no possible way he had chosen to wear that of his own free will. It was hardly fashionable nor was it convenient for investigating. Anyone wearing such a hat was bound to attract the attention of those around them who thought they looked a moron. No, this had to be a deliberate reference to himself. “You’re wearing an ear hat!” Sherlock stated incredulously, his tone containing a hint of surprise. “I was aware you are a fan of mine but I didn’t think you would go as far as to wear such a silly piece of headgear. Even I do not wear it by choice. It started as simply a disguise gone wrong.”

As he read through the article, Sherlock found himself beginning to feel a little irked by the tone in which it was written. The whole thing seemed to imply that he was nothing but a figure which anyone could become a caricature of if they acted and dressed in a certain way. It completely underplayed his intelligence and talent for solving crime by stating that James Hakuba could become his successor and take his place merely because he had an eye for detail and some enthusiasm for solving crime. “Scotland Yard doesn’t need a new favourite detective.” he muttered inaudibly to himself.  Catching sight of Lestrade’s comment about Hakuba being more agreeable than himself, the consulting detective narrowed his eyes. “Agreeable?! I have every right to not have an agreeable personality when everyone around me is so very below me intellectually. It is like being trapped in a room with chickens for an intelligent debate!” He snapped his gaze over to James. “Apparently you would also understand my pain since you are brilliant enough to equal or better me in every way. Then again maybe the fact you are charming means that other people’s thoughtlessness is dulled down to you.” 

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“Oh God,” Hakuba groaned, bringing his other hand up to completely bury his face. This was exactly what he didn’t want to have happen. “Please, Mr. Holmes, it’s just the media – you know they’ll do anything to sell a paper. It’s all absolutely ridiculous. Complete poppycock. God, no;  I’m nothing but a whelp, Mr. Holmes!”

He spoke quickly, attempting to get enough of a defense out to stay on Sherlock’s good side, though he was getting the distinct impression that it was already far too late for that.

“Of course you have every right and reason to be upset. It’s certainly not your fault that they’re all so dull and critical when they can’t even tell a hedgehog from a porcupine, let alone even begin to understand your brilliance!" After an unintentional whimper, the young detective pulled his hands down to look at Sherlock, facing him with no disguise of the mortification he felt, cheeks red, ears pink. But at least they were nearly to the building. 

 "And the ear hat… the deerstalker cap, god that was my agent’s idea… I’m so embarrassed." 

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wewillstartwiththeridingcrop:

For a second Sherlock was about to comment on the slight wince that Hakuba had made but decided against it. At this current time any emotion that was going through the young man’s mind was unimportant. Evidently he was as interested in solving this crime as Sherlock was so there was no need for either of them to get bogged down in conversations about their innermost thoughts. Upon the mention of the man being a detective too, Sherlock’s attention snapped back and his eyes settled gently on his face. “Oh, is that so? You’re a detective, eh? That would explain your meticulous note taking and keen eye for detail. It seems you are more interesting than I initially gave you credit for, Mr Hakuba. I cannot say I am not a little pleased to hear that. How I detest the ordinary people and their boring little lives. Being forced to interact with them is like watching a lethargic goldfish.” Sherlock frowned momentarily. “Perhaps you will be lucky and your presence here with me today will get you somewhere on your own investagation?”

 Taking a quick glance to check he was still heading toward the security building, Sherlock pulled his phone out of his pocket and quickly typed in the name the young detective had given him. If there was anything at all notable about his companion then he was sure it would be noted by someone on the internet. From his own experiences he was well aware that many details of a person’s life and reputation could be immortalized on a webpage in a far more immediate way than any newspaper was capable of.

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“That’s certainly a possibility,” Hakuba said, head tilting as he followed along, regarding the man who walked, he thought, with an admirable determination. Oh, such praise from Sherlock! He could hardly contain the tint of color on his face ash e blushed. Not five minutes spent with him, and already he’d been elevated from the common rabble of people. Was this how John felt? He must, keeping such incredible company, even though the tone of his blog was, at times, a little sarcastic. 

He mulled these thoughts over in his mind pleasantly, almost missing the other detective’s actions until it was nearly too late. Was he-? Oh god no. "Ah, Mr. Holmes! There’s no need for that, really,“ he cried in weak protest, preemptively lifting a hand to cover his face in embarrassment. "Really, my own work is inconsequential and not at all as pressing as your culprit!”

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But even typing ‘Sagu’ into a smart phone near London with the GPS activated brought up search suggestions, with full name, along with other helpful additions. ‘A Young Sherlock Holmes,’ ‘Up and Coming Detective,’ ‘Scotland Yard’s New Favorite?,’ ‘photoshoot,’ ‘austringer monthly,’ and so on.

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The first link was to an article reviewing the teenager’s latest case, in which the following statement had been highlighted on the left under a candid photo of Hakuba, in deerstalker cap, at a crime scene:

“Really, the key difference between Hakuba and Holmes,” said Lestrade with a smile, “is that the former has an agreeable personality!" 

Oh dear. So much for that. 

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wewillstartwiththeridingcrop:

After lingering impatiently on the corner for a few seconds, Sherlock was relieved when the young man finally seemed capable of moving once more. As brief as the time he had been waiting had been, it was time wasted that the suspect was using to get further away from him. There was absolutely no way he was going to elude capture by Sherlock himself but the notion of him roaming free irked Sherlock immensely, especially when he was currently idle. “Good, now we have got that sorted and all the trivial formalities out the way we can leave. Time is something that I have but I would rather not squander when I could be bringing that man to justice, be it by violent means or not.”

Slowing up his pace a tiny bit to allow Hakuba to catch up, Sherlock moved his attention to his recent companion. “What makes you be such an attentive member of the public? As suspicious as the men I am after look, I doubt any normal person would take more than a few seconds notice of them, much less note down their distinct facial tattoo, the time they appeared and the direction in which they went.”

There was a momentary wince to the polite smile that Hakuba wore as he assured himself as had been expected: no, the great Sherlock Holmes had not heard of him, ‘celebrity’ detective or otherwise. But that fact also came as sort of a boon: If he weren’t familiar with him, then he likely wasn’t aware that he’d worn one of those deerstalker caps for the papers and magazine articles, imitating Mr. Holmes himself. Such was his relief! Instead, he could focus on impressing the man through demonstration, leaving pre-biased reputation at the door.  

This seemed of particular importance now more than ever, as his idol was a tad more… harsh than he’d originally expected. 

“Understood; my apologies. To answer your questions, I’m a detective likewise, though an amateur yet,” Hakuba explained as they walked. He kept pace, extinguishing the cigarette at the zebra crossing between them and the building they were to enter for the security footage, grinding it against brick before disposing of it in the bin. “And there’s a man that I’m looking for with a similar mark. He’s not likely to be through this area today, if the pattern I’ve notated is correct, but it was as good a spot as any for a smoke.”

It was with conscious effort that he tried to keep his responses as quick and efficient as his step, not wanting to delay Mr. Holmes any further. The last thing he wanted to do was to be a burden. Especially when there was so much he could learn.

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wewillstartwiththeridingcrop:

While this person certainly seemed more attentive than most he met, Sherlock was not expecting him to have noted down crucial information. This person was like a Christmas present for the detective. The corners of Sherlock’s lips twitched into a surprised smile as he watched the young man reeling off the exact times and directions the men went in. ”You noted down the precise times in your book? That is wonderful. How glorious it is when people actually think!” Lunging toward Hakuba a few steps, Sherlock came to a halt directly behind him and peered at the notes that had been taken. “I am almost impressed by your insight into what to do. Few are as compliant or useful as yourself. I think consulting the security cameras would be best.”

Turning his head to face Hakuba, Sherlock gave a nod of appreciation. “Your assistance has been most beneficial. You can rest easy in bed knowing you played a part in helping me catch a criminal.” Pulling out his phone, Sherlock began to stride off round the corner, only coming to a halt when it was evident that his recent companion was not following. “Well, are you coming to consult it or not. I don’t care but as you are already semi-invested in tracking this man down you may as well see it closer to the end. Oh and my name is Sherlock Holmes if you weren’t already aware.” 

Normally, Hakuba was very good at speaking. He had mastered the skill of rambling, soap boxing, and being all together a right nuisance when it came to running his mouth but this time… no, this time he was left a little speechless. Perhaps even a little breathless. It had all happened so quickly. Compliments and praise from Sherlock Holmes? On detective work? He’d said he had been thinking. God. Beneficial assistance. Glorious. What… 

He blinked as the older man called from him from the corner, suddenly aware that he hadn’t moved or done much of anything, including breathing, for the past several seconds.

“Oh, right then!” he said, immediately abandoning his post to follow after, clip quick and energetic, despite his reserved posture. “I’m coming. And yes, yes I do know who you are, Mr. Holmes. Pleasure to meet you. I’m Saguru Hakuba… associates call me James.” This came with a small, crooked smile, hoping he hadn’t said too much.

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Sherlock looked at the young adult with a look of almost pity. As someone this young could be of any use to him aside from relaying what he knew of where the suspect he had been pursuing had ran off to. “I highly doubt that. I am not the sort of person who needs the help of bypassers when it comes to what I do. Still, if you are so sure you can be useful then I will put you to the test.” At the mention of there being multiple men who fitted the description he had given him, Sherlock scowled. “Of course there are. I bet he was something to do with this. He must have anticipated I would be inclined to hide in the shadows and stalk his movements so he enlisted the help of some associates to throw me off the scent. Ugh, how could I have overseen this?” he grumbled to himself quietly.

Returning his attention to the stranger, Sherlock refocused on the matter at hand. He has a tribal design similar to those seen in the Maori tribes of New Zealand that stretched from his eye down to his cheekbone. Does that sound familiar?”

Hakuba sighed and did all that he could to resist rolling his eyes. Even though Holmes was his absolute idol, he’d heard that he could be abrasive and, well, the proof was in the pudding. 

“I simply meant that I could better answer your question. And yes, that description narrows it down to two…” He glanced down at his book, lips pursing a moment. “The first at 17:43:02:12, headed Southerly.” Hakuba gestured with the book, brows knit. “Dark brown, near black ink. The second at 17:54:11:03, moving in the same direction. Red ink.”

He then nodded to a building at the corner. “The security camera across the way takes photographs of this area with a latency of approximately once every 20 seconds, as well. The feed is reviewed and not kept more than 24 hours, but they ought to be of help if you’d like visual confirmation.”

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((Since it’s Christmas I figured Sherlock should meet someone new)) Striding quickly down the street, Sherlock glanced back and forth across the surroundings for any sign of the man he had been following. Seeing none, he sighed in frustration and slumped against the wall. How unfruitful this had been! It was a few moments before he realised there was someone stood very near to him. “You! Have you seen a man with a facial tattoo pass by? He is about 6 foot tall. Hurry up and say, I am in a rush.”

His arrival had been noted with great interest by the someone, who then quietly pulled the lit cigarette from his mouth to consider the request. He turned his head away, blew out a puff of smoke, and answered while reaching for the little black book in his breast pocket with his free hand.  

“I have, as a matter of fact. Five, to be precise, within the past hour that meet such description.” Hakuba glanced at him sideways, attempting to appear casual. He knew who this was: he’d made himself intimately familiar with Mr. Holmes’ cases, both via John’s blog and the actual police records at the station. To say that he was excited was an understatement. “If you could be more specific, I might be able to assist you. What sort of facial tattoo?”