She was intrigued by him.
She heard about this brilliant Sherlock Holmes from one of her previous clients who claims to be a fan of Dr. John Watson's blog, which chronicles everything about the adventures the detective. The moment James Moriarty mentioned the Holmes boys, she took a particular interest in the younger brother.
She planned it all, the one about that royal poppet, knowing that the quickest way to get her protection was through the Ice Man, Mycroft Holmes. Without a room for failure and Jim Moriarty's advice, she knows she will play well. However, as she studied the Holmes boys from a distance, she became enthralled at the thought of Sherlock Holmes. She switched the code of her most precious possession, the Vertu phone, to his name, knowing how blind the younger detective may be at the game of love. Unconsciously, this mere deception crept up to her heart.
"Kate, dear, did you do what I asked?" Irene Adler mused to her assistant as they drive towards her house.
"They'll keep an eye on him. What do you want the photos for?" asked Kate, a smile playing on her lips.
Irene raised her eyebrows at her. "Don't be jealous, dear. I just want to watch him carefully… For some matters…"
Kate nodded and smiled as she continued to face the wheel. They stopped, Irene stepping out of the car. Her phone beeped, a fresh batch of photos of the consulting detective in her inbox. She hid her amusement as she scanned the photos, the consulting detective walking out of his flat wearing only a sheet, escorted by someone from the palace. She smiled at the thought, considering how excited she is to meet him.
Some time later, someone sent her new photographs, showing the detective and doctor inside a cab, probably off to meet her. Ecstatic, she called on her assistant.
"Kate!"
Her assistant comes into the room, a question on her eyes.
"We're going to have a visitor. I'll need a bit of time to get ready." Irene said, walking towards her dressing table while Kate bends down to pick up a discarded stocking from the floor.
"A long time?" Kate asked.
"Ages!" Irene replied, shivers of excitement filling her.
Changing to a see-through robe and stockings, Irene opens the doors to her enormous walk-in wardrobe and walks inside, running her fingers along her clothes, looking for the best outfit to wear.
Irene grabbed a red dress with a deep neckline from her closet and tried it on. She shook her head, thinking of the detective. This won't alarm him, she thought, stripping it off. After a couple more dresses, Irene looks at herself in a full-length mirror, turning slightly sideways to look at her glittery dark purple cocktail dress.
"Nah." she muttered, still not liking what she sees.
"Works for me." said Kate, leaning against the doorframe.
"Everything works on you." Irene replied.
Irene sat on the chair beside her dressing table and asked Kate to work on her makeup instead. As Kate dabs some color on her eyelids, then slides a thumb to her lips, asking for the shade of her lipstick, Irene can't help thinking about Mr. Holmes.
"Blood." Irene replied with a smile.
When asked about what she's going to put on, a thought finally occurred to her. The Virgin, Jim Moriarty calls the detective. Sexuality ought to do it, she figured. She also remembered that he can easily figure people out by their clothes. Excited at the thought of puzzling him, she finally decided exactly what to wear.
"My battle dress." she told Kate.
"Ooh…Lucky boy." The assistant replied.
Moments later, the door bell rang and Kate gave her a wicked smile before leaving.
Irene slipped out of her robe and grabbed her Louboutins. In front of the mirror, the Dominatrix checked how she looked. Satisfied, she walked over the front room to greet Mr. Holmes.
"Hello. Sorry to hear that you've been hurt. I don't think Kate caught your name." she said, entering the room and seeing the detective dabbing his wounded cheek with a cloth.
"I'm so sorry… I…" the detective started and paused.
He turned to see her, his jaw almost dropping when he saw her. She caught him off guard and she liked that.
"Oh, it's always hard to remember an alias when you've had a fright, isn't it?" she purred as she walked into the room, stopping directly in front of him and straddling his legs. She reached for his white dog collar.
"There now – we're both defrocked …" she said, smiling down at him. She found his expression amusing, not looking at the entirety of her but studying her eyes. There was something about him that makes her swoon like a teenager.
"… Mr Sherlock Holmes." she announced, a smug look on her face.
"Miss Adler, I presume." he replied, his blue eyes not leaving her face, his baritone voice sounds like music to her ears.
Irene gazed down at his face, drinking in his features. "Look at those cheekbones. I could cut myself slapping that face. Would you like me to try?"
Narrowing her eyes, she lifts the white plastic to her mouth and bites down on it. She was restraining her urge to bind him right there on that couch. He looked so smart and yet confused, not like anyone she's ever had before. As Sherlock stares up at her with his brows furrowed, they were disturbed by the sound of somebody else's arrival.