A/N: Written for adler-holmes' tumblr prompt which read: "can you write something adlock-y where irene discovers (u can choose what type of era/universe u'd like to write it): sherlock's pocket watch containing her photo / her vertu phone / her letters of correspondence with him properly stored / the photo she gave to the king of bohemia? thanks =)"


The chain of his watch snakes between her fingers, looped around so that the watch can't slip as she dangles it before her. It's a beautiful watch, really, but then, he always did choose the finest.

The sovereign she gave him glints in the lamplight. It's just a sovereign, nothing special about it, and yet there it is in pride of place on his watch chain. Whatever possessed him to keep it?

Mister Holmes grumbles and rolls over, his face relaxed in sleep and formerly-immaculate hair mussed. (The result of her hands as much as the pillow he sleeps on.) She bows her head and drops a kiss to his cheek, idly flicking the watch case open to check the time and –

Her own face looks back at her, reserved and beautiful, slotted into the case. A numb buzz awakens in her mind and she can't-

Calm yourself, Irene. You must be reasonable about this.

She takes a deep breathe, heart settling back into place, and permits her thoughts to continue. First question first.

Why did he keep her photograph?

Actually, no. She's not surprised at that. She rather expected him to. But to put it into his pocket watch, to carry it with him all of the time. The sovereign is one thing, a token to remind him of the case, but to keep her picture with him. Why?

It makes no sense. He was not obviously interested in her before, though she certainly worked her charms. Giving him her picture was to annoy him more than anything, a discomfiting reminder that he is not infallible and there is at least one woman who has beaten him. Did the whole affair, short as it was, really mean so much to him?

When he came to her only a few hours ago in search of advice it seemed an innocent enough meeting, and he was clearly surprised at the resulting liaison. Did he plan for this to happen?

She must hand it to him if he did. That would take a shrewd operator – which she never doubted him to be, but still – and perhaps she will have to renounce her title of being the woman who beat him.

But what if he didn't plan it? What if it truly was something that just happened? What if he's harboured some secret sentiment all along, and had no plan to act on it?

For all he's known until tonight, she's been a happily married woman all of this time. And even now, her own face looking back at her from inside of his watch, she doubts if he knew the nature of the ruse until he arrived in her rooms this evening. He's not the sort who interferes in a marriage in such a way. Perhaps he truly did simply want her advice.

But her picture. And her sovereign.

She imagines what he'll say. I couldn't get it out without scratching the case. Then why did he put it in in the first place?

The poor man.

Really, after all of these years? It seems like something out of a ridiculous romance novel, or a laughable penny dreadful. She'd laugh right now, she would, if the man in question wasn't Sherlock Holmes. He certainly wouldn't be the first to have feelings for her.

Her throat is dry, and her cheeks definitely warm. She can't deny that she is flattered by his interest. Of course she is. Sherlock Holmes. Now that is one for the books, and she can't say that she didn't enjoy it.

Still. The man wears two mementos of her on his watch chain. All indicators point to sentiment. How strange for a man who claims not to feel it because it interferes with the cold, hard reasoning he holds so dear. Well. Something must be done.