Set in the original time period, but with all of the things from the BBC series (aka my life. Cumberbabes ftw!). This is my attempt at Sherene (Sherlock/Irene). Enjoy!
~vivagreen
She lay in my bed as she had lain in my thoughts. The Woman.Far from the only woman to capture my thoughts, but the only, only woman to have ever captured my elusive, dancing, bird of a heart. Her dark, wavy hair tumbled around her, her lips red even without rouge. I had always seen her with her face powdered and a fine gown on. But now, as she only wore a silk lace nightgown and no powder or rouge, she was at the most beautiful she could be. With her fine gowns and powdered face, she was just like other woman. But now, now, she was different, far more ethereal and nymph-like, beautiful with her flaws. My first thought was as to how she had come about sleeping in my bed, but Watson has always neglected to keep the door locked. That solved, I sat and contemplated how she had gone from a case, to a friend, to the keeper of my heart. She had loved me. I had known that. When she was but a case, I scorned her love, sneered that such an intelligent and interesting woman had fallen prey to the oldest trap known to mankind: love. As a friend, I loved her as I love Watson, but somewhere along the way, that love changed. It became purer, deeper, sweeter, a forbidden nectar I had never dabbled in, but tasted so pure. As I now found myself a prisoner of the selfsame, many times scorned trap, I realize it did not need to be scorned. I had solved her case without difficulty, to my relief, and I expected to fall into morphine-fuelled dreams and to be constantly thinking of her, but I found myself able to think quite as clearly as before, and I did not need the needle because she, The Woman, was my cocaine, my pipe, my love.
Okay, so I'm not entirely happy with it, but I wanted to show Sherlock falling in love, and I had always shipped Sherlock/Irene, so this is what turned out. If you people like it, then REVIEW! I'll write faster if you do!
~vivagreen