His Favorite Melody

Ready, Set, No

Irene smiled without a care in the world, and head over to the other sofa, settling down on it. She picked up a cushion and placed it over herself, but Melody noticed that Sherlocks eyes never left The Woman.

"Please, sit down. If you'd like some tea, I'll call the maid." Irene offered.

"I had some at the Palace." Sherlock said before anyone else could reply.

"I know."

"Clearly."

Sherlock and Irene sat opposite eachother, burning the air between them with a heated stare.

"... we had a tea at the palace too. If anyone's interested." John said,  glancing over at an eerily calm Melody.

Sherlock and Irene didn't even look at him. Sherlock looked like something was troubling him as he looked back and forth between John and Irene.

"Do you know the big problem with disguise, Mr. Holmes? However hard you try, it's always a self-portrait." Irene mused.

"You think I'm a vicar with a bleeding face?" Sherlock asked.

"I think you're damaged, delusional, and believe in a higher power."

"Yeah, himself." Melody huffed.

Irene smirked at her, then looked back at Sherlock. "And somebody loves you. If I had to punch you in the face I'd try to avoid your teeth and your nose, too."

Her eyes to flashed like lasers to John who just bridled uncomfortably.

"Could you put something on, please?" He asked. "Anything at all - a napkin." He suggested.

"Why - are you feeling exposed?" She teased.

Sherlock pulled his coat from where it was lying on the sofa next to him and tossed it over to Irene. Melody clenched her jaw and watched as Irene slipped it on.

"I don't think John knows where to look." Sherlock said.

"Oh, I think he knows exactly where. I'm not sure about you." Irene grinned

"If I wanted to look at naked women, I'd borrow his laptop or simply ask Melody."

Melody whipped her head around and glared at him murderously. What on earth was he thinking saying something like that??

"You do borrow my laptop." John said.

"I confiscate it."

"Never mind all that, we've got better things to talk about. Tell me, I need to know - how was it done." Irene interrupted.

"... sorry, what?"

"The hiker with the bashed in head? How was he killed?"

"That's not why we're here." Melody said through gritted teeth.

"No, you're here for the photographs. But you're never going to get them, so seeing as we're chatting anyway..."
Sherlock and John looked back and forth between Melody and Irene. One looking eerily calm, and the other grinning wickedly.

"That story hasn't even been on the news. How do you know about it?" John asked, breaking the tension.

"I know one of the policemen. Well - I know what he likes."

"What, and you like policemen?"

"I like detective stories. And detectives. Brainy - it's the new sexy."

"Thepositionofthecar-" Sherlock sputtered out. "The position of the car, relative to the hiker, at the time of the backfire. That plus the fact that the death blow was on the back of his head. All the information you need." Sherlock rattled off.