Sins of London: Irene and Sherlock

Why do you hate me, Sherlock?

I step into the library, my mind riddled with unease. Fagin, Gray, Evans... We've already lost so many, how many more will we lose in pursuit of this 'black magician' the advisor spoke of? I rest my weight against a sturdy oak bookshelf and groan to myself.

Why did I have to mention Abbie to him, why didn't I keep her out of it?! By involving her, I've put yet another of my loved ones at risk – Sherlock was right, I should've kept my mouth shut. I grimace at the realisation. Why does Sherlock always have to be right?! The thought of his self-assured confidence and his cocky smirk that once endeared him so much to me now fills me with icy rage.

I can't bear the distance he has put between us. I had let my guard down, I had let him become close to me, I had started to feel for him - and I thought he had done the same... But one little mistake, one tiny lapse of judgement and he has shut me out, like I mean nothing to him. Fury rises within me, boiling over and uncontrollable.

'ARGH!' I yell, punching the shelf behind me. The shelf collapses from my blow, antique books tumbling to the floor with resounding thuds. I curse under my breath, crouching to clear up my mess. I startle as someone emerges from the shadows, squatting down beside me.

'I didn't know you had such distaste for the written word,' Sherlock complains, his face void of emotion and unreadable as he assesses the disarray before him.

'Go to hell,' I sneer, his arrogance infuriating me further.

'What's got you in such bad humours?' he questions, straightening up as he places several books on the desk beside us.

'Can the great detective not deduce that for himself?' I scoff, my voice dripping with bitter resentment. Ignoring my insult, the man raises an eyebrow, demanding a proper answer.

'I don't know, Sherlock. Maybe I can't bear that in just the last few days, I have lost everyone who I dared care for. Maybe, I'm furious that yet again, I'm stuck throwing myself into danger to pursue the leader of these ungodly monsters. Or maybe, I'm trying to understand why you've decided at the drop of a hat that you hate me?'

Sherlock is taken aback, hurt flashing across his face for a brief second before he regains his composure once again.

'I don't hate you, Irene,' he says, the coldness in his voice suggesting otherwise.

'Then how would you explain the way you have been treating me, hm? I thought we – I thought we had grown close. Yet now, you treat me with such hostility, like we are strangers.' My heart sinks, replacing my fury with painful dejection. I recall the feeling of his strong arms around me in the woods just days ago, the memory of the warmth of his embrace cutting against the glacial manner with which Sherlock regards me now.

'I don't hate you,' he repeats. 'I have simply lost my trust in you, as I have said.'

'I have already apologised for searching for Glashtyn without you!'

'And I accept your apology. But it doesn't change what you did – anything could have happened, you put yourself in danger unnecessarily!' His blank demeanour breaks down, his icy blue eyes flooded with animosity – no, not animosity – is that worry?

'Sherlock, you seem to forget I am one of London's most notorious thieves. Danger is nothing unknown to me.'

'I forget nothing, but the threat of these creatures is a far cry from the perils of pickpocketing. You lied to me, betrayed my trust, and you nearly died!'

'I was in no true danger, Glashtyn would never have hurt me!'

'You didn't know that, and you still don't! These things are not human, this mindset of yours is exactly why you need me by your side, to protect you from your own naïveté!' he practically shouts those last words, and I turn my back to him in disgust. How dare he accuse me of naïveté?! I've seen exactly what these things are capable of!

Seeing my outrage, Sherlock's voice softens. 'Irene... I can't – I won't lose someone I care for to those monsters again.'

'Sherlock... Is this about Watson?' I turn back to face him, reaching out to touch his arm, to comfort him. He swiftly avoids my touch, his walls shooting up again as quickly as they had fallen.

'Of course not, I have told you what this is about.' He presses his lips together firmly and takes a step towards the door, clearly deciding our conversation was over. I grasp his shoulder, the strength of my mechanical arm forcing him to stop and stumble slightly.

'Don't do that! Don't shut me out again, Sherlock! Can't you see how much this pains me? There must be something more than just my seeking Glashtyn without you that has made you act this way! Tell me, is it about Watson?'

'Fine! Yes! I left him by himself, to fight without me! And in doing so, I killed him!' he roars, guilt and agony permeating his voice.

'Sherlock... you must know that wasn't your fault. And it won't happen again! You need to trust me, trust yourself that you have trained me well enough to keep myself safe!' I reach out again to take his hand, and he reluctantly accepts my gesture.

'I can't do that,' he sighs.

'Why not? You've seen the way I fight, I took down Biasd Bheulach! You know I can defend myself!'

'Don't make me say it,' he pleads, his voice barely above a whisper, his characteristic arrogance nowhere to be seen.

'Say what?! You're a mystery to me!' I argue, so perplexed by his secrecy.

'For goodness' sake, Irene! I can't let myself care for someone again, only for them to die! I -' he begins to shout, cutting himself off and hushing his voice 'til it is nearly inaudible. 'I lo-' he chokes on his words. I look up at him, my heart aflutter, begging him to continue with my eyes – it all makes sense, I know exactly what he is trying to say. But I need to hear him say it.

'Forget it,' he sighs, pulling his hand from mine and stepping towards the door of the library.

'Sherlock, wait!' I run towards him, throwing myself into his arms. He catches me, clearly puzzled by my manoeuvre.

'What –' he begins, but I don't allow him to continue. I run my fingers through his short blond hair, and pull his face closer to mine. He freezes for a split second, before covering my mouth with his and drawing me into a passionate kiss.