Author's Note: Hey there, this is my first Sherlock Holmes fanfiction. Like you will see the prologue is based on 'A Scandal in Bohemia' written by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, but the rest of the story will be set in the universe of the 2009 Sherlock Holmes movie by Guy Ritchie, so that Watson for example isn't married yet or I won't write from his point of view.

SCANDALOUS

For the purpose of this story, I altered Irene's age from 30 (in the books it says she was born in 1868) to 25 in 1888.

Prologue:

21st of March, 1888

[They] had reached Baker Street, and had stopped at the door. He was searching his pockets for the key, when some one passing said: "Good night, Mister Sherlock Holmes."

There were several people on the pavement at the time, but the greeting appeared to come from a slim youth in an ulster who had hurried by.

"I've heard that voice before." Said Holmes, staring down the dimly lit street. "Now, I wonder who the deuce that could have been."

Sir Athur Conan Doyle, The adventures of Sherlock Holmes, A Scandal in Bohemia

He let Watson enter the house before him, his eyes still following the slim figure worming his way through the people strolling down Baker Street. The boy stopped at the corner, his eyes locking with Holmes' as he lifted his arm in a wink. There was a wicked smile on his face that seemed like he had seen it a hundred times before as the boy gripped the brim of his hat, taking it off. Long chestnut brown curls flooded down her back and fell in her face, and he was mesmerized by the way they glistened in the evening light.

"Miss Adler!" He shouted, taking off behind her. "Miss Adler, wait!"

She ran down the street, disappearing behind a corner, and he was almost sure he'd lost her trail as he saw her stopping just in front of him.

"Miss Adler", he said again, "what are you doing here?"

She laughed, a tinkling sound he would come to know so well. "You sure should know that it's Mrs Norton nowadays Mr Holmes. After all you were my husband's best man."

He looked at her, a bit dumbfounded. He hadn't thought that his cover would be blown so quickly. "Very well then Mrs Norton, what are you doing here?"

"I've come to see you, figured that maybe you wanted to know the truth about this whole affair."

"So speak then." He leaned next to her against the red brick wall, intensely staring at her hair, eyes, lips, memorizing her face.

"Not here Mr Holmes. He could have someone following us." She took his hand in hers and pulled him with her down the alley.

"Where are we going Mrs Norton?" Holmes asked, his voice suddenly husky. He didn't know what it was, her smell or her sudden proximity, but he could feel his heart racing.

"To my room at the Grand. And please Mr Holmes, call me Irene." She sent him a coquettish smile as she gave his hand a light squeeze.

"I'd rather not Mrs Norton, after all I'm investigating you."

She hailed a carriage, ushering him in as she gave the driver directions before she took her seat beside him. "Then at least stop calling me Mrs Norton. I don't want to be 'Mrs Norton' to you."

"So we're back to Ms Adler then?" He asked, unconsciously leaning in to her.

Again she gave him her dazzling smile. "If you want to."

She pushed the door open to a luxurious furnished room. "Come in then, Mr Holmes." He followed her in almost hesitantly as he looked around the room warily. He'd already deduced that she was indeed frequently here, she'd been addressed by name –even if it was a false one– and a few pieces of clothing were scattered all over the room.

He walked up to her vanity table, reading the labels on the various bottles on top of it and wondering if she really used them all while she disappeared behind the partition in the middle of the room.

"So Ms Adler, what do you want to tell me?"

She appeared again, scarcely clad in a robe that left her shoulders as well as the swell of her breasts bare, and he found himself staring at her shamelessly.

"I want to tell you the truth about this whole affair."

"Why do you think I didn't already know the truth? After all they call me the world's greatest detective." He lifted a small bottle that smelled like vanilla and cinnamon. Parfum parisien it read on the label.

"It's my favorite one, you know." She took the bottle from him and placed it back on the table, still staying maddingly near to him. "To answer your question: if you knew the truth, you wouldn't spend your time hunting me down, darling."

"Tell me then." He had to take a step back to regain control over his senses.

"I'm sure you know how Sigismond and I met in Warsaw. From the beginning, it was just an affair for me, nothing more than a brief fling because firstly I didn't love him, and secondly there was no way I would end up as the Queen of Bohemia. He used to say I was on a different level." She laughed at that again as he still stared at her, his face an unreadable mask.

"After I broke it up, everything was fine for a few months. Then he tried to blackmail me and the photograph of us both, formerly simply a memory of my latest conquest became my insurance policy. He couldn't know where it was and whether or not it would find its way to the public in case something would happen to me, so he tried to get it back."

She moved around the room in her very own brand of elegance and grace, always aware of his eyes on her petite form. He focused completely on her, no other thought entering his mind, till suddenly he thought how very grotesque it was that here out of all places his mind would be completely at rest. It was as if there were no deductions to make, no mysteries to plumb.

"When I heard Sigismond was in London, I knew I had to act, and fast at that. I didn't know what ace he still had up his sleeve, so I really had no other choice than doing what I did." She made a brief pause and he had to admire the actress in her, always increasing the tension till it wasn't bearable anymore. "I had to change me legal status thus I had to marry, as, like you surely know, a married woman can't be sued. To ensure nothing would happen to me, no matter what would occur, I had to be legally provided for. And why not kill two birds with one stone? So I got my lawyer to marry me. For me it's purely a convenience marriage."

She came forward again, her breath ghosting over the skin of his neck.

"What about him?" He asked huskily.

"He would do anything for me." She leaned up and kissed the corner of his mouth, pulling away after a mere instant, her mouth hovering over his own. "Tomorrow morning, when you will come to my house, we will be gone. I will take the photograph with me and leave you a letter that will state that I love my husband and that therefore the King can marry his princess without having to fear any hindrance from my side."

Her voice wasn't more than a throaty whisper at the end as she put her small hands on his shoulders, holding him in place as her lips slowly came nearer to his again. It was his hands though that gripped her head, and his mouth that came down to hers to devour it.

The kiss became more passionate, almost feverish in no time, and she felt herself being steered over to the four-poster bed in the center of the room. Irene pulled him with her as he pushed her down onto it, combing her fingers through his thick, dark locks. She opened her mouth to his, succumbing completely to his tongue and the feeling of his hands touching every inch of her body. She forced her eyes open as she heard their moans mingling together, gazing into his extraordinary gray eyes.

"Irene" he husked as his fingers played with the tie of her robe.

"Is it Irene now, Sherlock?" She asked, a teasing glint in her eye as she untied it herself. She moaned again as he gripped her chestnut curls in his hands, bringing her head nearer to his, as he engaged her in a breathtaking kiss once again. He felt her slowly unbuttoning his shirt as he pushed the reminders of her robe down her shoulders, exposing her breasts to him. They hit the floor together with his shirt.

She lay in his arms, contently drawing invisible patterns on the top of his chest in a post-coital lazyness. He buried his nose in her hair, pressing kisses to her scalp and temple.

"I really do like your room, my dear." He sounded satisfied, carefree, like he hadn't done in a really long time. Watson probably wouldn't recognize him.

Irene smiled, kissing his jaw lightly. "You could say that it's our room now, as you are the only one who has ever been here with me."

They lay in silence for a while, just listening to each other's breathing. "You've just spent your wedding night with a man that isn't your husband, my dear."

She shrugged, an air of nonchalance surrounding her. "Should've married you then, don't you think?"

He contently murmured something incoherent, his face still pressed against her hair. His mind was peaceful, completely at rest as he inhaled her scent deeply. "Vanilla and cinnamon. Interesting mixture."

"You like it?" She asked lowly.

"In fact I do."

"Then I shall wear it to honor our memory, shan't I?"

Sherlock didn't answer, instead just tightened his grip on her, knowing that in the morning she would be gone, fleeing out of the country with a man by her side she didn't love.

"You'll miss me Sherlock." She stated quietly, and he had to smile at her extraordinary ability to read his thoughts.

"Sadly yes."

He woke up the next day to a letter from her instead to the woman herself; a letter telling him that they would surely meet again as she was sure she couldn't stay away from him very long, and yes, that last night had in fact meant something to her. He would found his watch gone as, like he knew, she liked to have some sort of a memory, if not of her latest conquest, than of the man she saw as her equal.

He had to laugh at that as, in fact, he himself had thought the exact same thing of her. The woman was indeed the only human being he had ever met who had the mental capability to outsmart him. It piqued his curiosity to know whether he would have been taken in by her plan if she hadn't told him beforehand.

She had been right, he was bound to miss her, he thought as he got up to dress himself, smiling as he indeed found his watch missing.

It was time to meet up with the King of Bohemia.

Information: In the Victorian Era women could in fact not be sued till the 'Married Women's Property Act 1882' became law as before husband and wife were legally seen as one person. This story is set in 1888, shortly after commencement of the law so I saw no harm in ignoring the chronological discrepancy.

I hope you liked the prologue. Please leave a review and tell me what you think.