The Woman
Chapter One
Her heels clicked loudly on the pavement as she walked through the streets of London. She walked with her shoulders back, carrying a sense of confidence with her, but her eyes were trained on the small screen she held in her manicured hands.
Irene Adler loved London, and had missed it in the months she had been in hiding, but there was no time now for strolling through Hyde Park or visiting her old home. No, she thought, looking at the familiar face in the picture, she had returned to London on business.
She shut off her phone as she arrived at her destination, but not before stealing one more glimpse at his eyes, trying again to decide if they were green or blue. She smiled to herself, knowing how close she was to seeing him in person again. In the months before her return, she had tried to convince herself that she had only missed the city, but there was no denying that she had missed him too.
Chapter Two
"Sherlock? Are you even listening to me?" John sighed and leaned back in his armchair. "Of course you're not listening," he said, mainly to himself this time. His former flatmate sat opposite him, the usual pensive look on his face, long fingers resting thoughtfully against his chin. It wasn't the first time that Sherlock had stopped listening on the middle of a story, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. And yet...it somehow felt different this time. "Sherlock!" He said, raising his voice a bit higher. "Hmm? What, what is it?" his reply was distracted, and John could see that his friend's eyes were still glazed over, lost in thought.
"It's not a case, is it?" John asked. "You're acting funny. Well funnier than usual." With his usual abrupt manner, Sherlock leapt out of the chair and began pacing around the room. "Amusing as always John," he retorted, "but you would be correct in assuming that no, this is not for a case."
John leaned forward, eyebrows raised and elbows propped on his knees. He waited a few seconds for an answer, but when none came he prompted his friend to continue. "Well?" he said, growing slightly impatient. "Right, yes," in a few short paces, Sherlock had crossed the room towards his laptop, which sat open amidst precariously piled folders and books, and started typing furiously.
"Sherlock, do you plan on telling me what's going on?" John sighed again, rubbing his temple. At times it felt easier to conduct surgery than to extract simple information from Sherlock. Without looking up, Sherlock replied, seemingly oblivious to the exasperated state John was in, "This morning, one of my homeless network spotted The Woman exiting a cab in London." Whatever John had expected the answer to be, it wasn't this. "The Woman? As in Irene Adler? But how, how could that be possible? Mycroft told me she-" he cut himself off before anything else slipped out. For all of Sherlock's intelligence, John had always been sure he knew nothing of the truth about Irene's fate.
"My brother told you she died, I know," the flippant manner with which came Sherlock's reply surprised John, almost as much as the rare show of emotion that flashed across his eyes as he said it. John was about to ask how on earth he could possibly know when their conversation was interrupted by an urgent and rapid knock on the door of 221B.
"Yes," Sherlock answered John's unasked question, "that will be her."
In one long stride Sherlock crossed the room, stepping out of the way as he swung the door open to reveal the woman who, according to the British government, did not exist.
"Hello, darling, I was in the neighborhood, thought I'd drop by," Irene wore her usual smirk as she looked up at Sherlock, then over to a stunned looking John. "Good to see you again, John," she said as she passed by him, making her way across the room to sit in Sherlock's armchair.
"Do close your mouth, John. You know what they say about catching flies," Sherlock said, but his eyes remained fixed on Irene. It only took a few seconds, as per usual, for him to see through the air of self confidence. Typically from Irene the cockiness came naturally, but something about her seemed different this time. "You're scared. Why?" He asked, narrowing his eyes. "It seems fairly obvious that it's an urgent matter, so I don't see why we should be wasting any time."
Her smirk faded away slowly as Sherlock spoke. It became exceedingly clear that Irene was terrified. Her eyes had a nervous, darting look to them that revealed paranoia, and Sherlock could see from the slight shaking of her hands and the sallowness of her skin underneath the makeup that she hadn't slept for at least two days.
Irene hesitated, and when she began to speak it was with a shaky, hoarse voice that sounded almost inhuman coming from her. "Well you're right, of course." She looked down at her hands, then up at Sherlock, "I'm in trouble, serious trouble, and I've come for help. I'd like to have the help of my favorite detective."
Sherlock said nothing in reply, but he moved to sit down opposite Irene, then pressing his fingertips together and perching his chin on top of them, a clear indication that he had already decided to take the case.
"Well," she began, extending her left hand out to display a rather large diamond that sat atop her ring finger. "I'm sure you've noticed this, seeing as you're you." After a quiet "obviously" was muttered by Sherlock, she continued, "well, you see, I'm getting married."
"So the formidable dominatrix has finally fallen in love?" Sherlock's failed attempt at sounding nonchalant was noticed only by John, who still sat in the corner with his mouth slightly agape. Irene let out a short laugh that matched the teasing tone of her voice when she spoke, "oh darling, you know I don't believe in that sort of thing. However, this one is quite rich, and I will admit that marrying him would be convenient.. The problem, though, and the reason I need your help, is that there are certain..aspects of my life that he is unaware of, and I would like for it to stay that way. Unfortunately, there are others that have realized that I'm not quite as dead as they thought..and they would really like to change that. I'm afraid they'll do something soon, and not just to me but to my fiancé as well, and I would really rather not explain to him why there are trained hit men trying to kill us. So, seeing as you're one of the few people that actually knows I'm still alive, naturally I came to London to seek you out. And besides, it is nice to, well, you know.." Sherlock, who had been lost in thought through the entire story, looked up to meet Irene's eyes.
He was suddenly hit with a very intense memory of the first time he had met Irene, when they had sat together in the same room under very different circumstances, when he had suspected that Irene..well, not that that mattered anymore, not now that she was engaged. They continued to sit like that for a moment, neither one wanting to say anything, until a shifting noise in the corner suddenly reminded them of John's presence in the room.
John stood up slowly, stretching slightly before making his way towards the kitchen. "Well, I think it's safe to say we'll be here for a while, so, tea?" He walked to the doorway, then turned around to face them, "Oh, and, just in case either of you has forgotten- it's Hamish. You know, for the baby names."
Chapter Three
