Lets Have Dinner
Irene Adler: Dominatrix, survivalist, temptress, and more importantly, The Woman. Even if she was once again playing dead she still had work to do, and today her work was in London's Essex hotel. She surely didn't enjoy being back in London, only one glance from an old… friend… could get her killed but money makes the world go round doesn't it? And Irene knew to keep herself hidden from her friends she needed as much money as humanly possible.
Today the Essex was as busy as ever, with men and women pushing themselves through the lobby Irene could only stand and watch, knowing that her client would find her. She took a seat in a long red sofa and looked over at the woman in front of her. Whoever this woman was, Irene was quiet disappointed this was not her client. With long legs crossed in the most incising manner and a black pencil skirt that was so wonderfully short and – wait… Something was keeping this woman's face hidden, but what? A newspaper, with a face all to familiar plastered on the front: Sherlock Holmes.
SUICIDE OF FAKE GENIUS
FRAUDALENT DETECTIVE TAKES HIS OWN LIFE
Irene's hands dropped her leather purse and it toppled to the floor. Any strength Irene had vanished instantly. Sherlock Holmes was dead? No, if The Woman could survive why couldn't The Virgin?
No, no, oh God no… Sherlock…
Tears slipped between Irene's painted blue lids and streaked down her cheeks. No this couldn't be right, Sherlock Holmes couldn't be dead, and of all the people in this world he could survive anything.
"He will outlive God trying to have the last word."
And he would… right…?
Suddenly her phone, which now sat between her feet vibrated. Irene instinctually reached down and picked it up. Without even looking at the screen she scrolled through to her text messages. Somehow, when all her strength was gone she still felt human enough to look at her phone. Oh technology, she thought, damn you…
However something caught her eyes and her clouded sight switched back to the screen.
Baby Holmes
Not dead, lets have dinner
SH
"Well? Shall we, The Woman?"
Irene spun around in her seat. Dressed in a perfectly fitted tuxedo was a handsome tall man carrying a serving plate with two glasses of champagne with a white card that said in beautiful cursive lettering said
The Woman
"Oh, Sherlock Holmes," Irene smiled standing up from the sofa, her strength returned to her once more. She was right, if anyone could survive of course it would be Sherlock Holmes, just as Watson had said, Holmes would outlive God trying to get the last word, and that he would.
"I would love too."