Summary: AU. Just a scenario that could have happened before season 2. Sally Donovan meets Irene Adler and discovers an interesting titbit about Irene and Sherlock's relationship.

AN: This idea came from random talks with my sister, as per usual.

'So let me get this straight.' Sally Donovan glared at the woman in front of her. 'The victim left your room, you heard a strangled cry, and when you came to the door, the victim was on the floor in a pool of blood, and a man dressed in black holding a cricket bat was running down the hall.'

'Yes,' the woman replied. 'After checking for a pulse, I rang 999 and kept the scene clear.'

'Right. And your name is?'

'Irene. Irene Adler.'

'Irene Adler? The Dominatrix?' Donovan was busy searching the NSY database for any information on the witness before her, when she came across that surprising piece of information. 'And you're married?' Another surprise. 'And what does your husband think of your work?'

'He's not bothered. In fact, he finds it amusing.'

'Are you serious?'

'Oh yes, he has no reason to worry. Even after everyone I've been with, he still continues to surprise me with what he can do. He's very...attentive.'

Well, there was only one option after a statement like that.

After failing to recover his name Donovan resorted to outright asking. 'What's his name then?'

'That's classified, darling,' Irene drawled, her eyes unsubtly raking up and down the Sergeant's figure, smirk playing at the corner of her mouth as Sally's only reaction was to quirk an eyebrow. Irene always did enjoy a challenge and the message was loud and clear - two can play at that game.

At that moment Sherlock decided to breeze onto the scene, insulting Anderson, exchanging nods with Lestrade and coming to a halt in front of the two women.

'Donovan.'

'Freak.'

'Really, Donovan bad day?'

'It just got worse.' Gesturing to Irene, she began to describe the scene to the consulting detective. 'Mrs Adler was the last person to see the victim alive. He was leaving her room, when he was attacked from behind and bludgeoned over the head by a cricket bat. The perp, according to Mrs Adler, was a six foot male, dressed all in black and looked athletic.'

Sherlock turned towards the body, observing it from every angle, murmuring 'Not much to go on, but I suppose it will do.' He sent a smirk in Irene's direction, ignoring Donovan's confused expression. 'Talking about our sex life again, are we?'

'You know how it is.'

'Of course,' Sherlock agreed. 'Can't keep our mouths shut, can we?'

'I don't hear you complaining.'

'True,' he conceded.

'Come on dear, I'll take you down to the station.'

'Do I have to?'

'Routine apparently.' His annoyance was clear. 'Do you need an incentive?'

Irene smirked. 'I might.'

Donovan butted in, her face darkening with an interesting red tinge. 'You…you…and him? I don't understand?' she finished lamely.

'And I don't think you ever will,' replied Sherlock snarkily. 'It's too much for your brain to comprehend.'

'Now, now Sherlock, play nice.'

'Yes love. Come on.' Sherlock took Irene's arm and led her down the stairs. Brushing past her, she slipped her card into Sally's pocket, smirking widely the whole while.

'Oh, and Sally dear,' she chimed. 'I use Adler for work. The name's Mrs Sherlock Holmes.'

Sally watched them sashay down the stairs, thinking that they actually were good for each other. Anderson walked over, causing her to jolt out of her daze.

'What's the matter?'

'Nothing much. I just flirted with Sherlock Holmes' wife. And enjoyed it.' She looked at him and tutted. He might be a good fuck but his mind could be terribly slow sometimes. No wonder Sherlock got annoyed with him. Patting him condescendingly on the cheek, she walked off to find Lestrade, leaving Anderson dumbfounded.