So, I know how I said I would be writing for The Big Bang Theory again, but I started watching Sherlock and that idea went right out the window. This show has quickly become my new obsession and I have been thinking about this story since Sunday. I cannot wait for more episodes. Arugh.
So, I'm hoping this story will be a "love" triangle between Irene, Holmes and Moriarty. I have yet to decide who it should be centered on, Irene and Jim or Sherlock and Irene. I'll see how it plays out. And yes, you will know a little more to Irene's back story as well. If I get enough reviews, I'll update sooner!
Also, I'm ignoring the very final bit of "The Great Game." Just pretend that Jim didn't come back after Sherlock got the bomb off John. Makes life easier.
Cheers!
Kate.
The Cold Hard Facts
It started when the phone rang.
Not many people actually call Sherlock Holmes. People who actually like him text, while people who don't like him avoid him all together. The only person who calls him would be Mycroft, but that's only because Mycroft hates the idea of texting. Not when he can hear the sound of his own voice.
Sherlock checked the caller ID on his blackberry to find the number blocked. Sighing, he pressed the small green button and held the phone to his ear. He expected Mycroft's mocking voice to ring back in his ear.
"Sherlock Holmes."
"Hello Sherlock."
Except, that wasn't Mycroft's voice. Unless Mycroft's voice had raised a few octaves. No, Sherlock Holmes recognized the sultry voice that echoed into his ear. It was a voice he hadn't heard in a while, but he recognized it all the same.
His heart stopped and he momentarily forgot how to breathe.
"Irene Adler. It's been too long." He breathes into the phone, falling down into the couch. He hears her chuckle.
"Quite."
"To what do I owe this fantastic honor?" The sarcasm slips through his voice, his posture slowly returning to normal.
"I'm back in town. Just got in. I was hoping to see you soon." She pauses. "And maybe this new roommate I've heard so much about?" Her American accent filters through his ears and his eyes narrow.
"John's out." He suddenly has a fleeting moment of hesitation, wondering if he really should slip back into relations with Irene. Finally, he sighs and nods into the phone. "I'll meet you at the Ivy at 8. I'll make a reservation."
"It's a date then."
"Don't get too excited." He hisses, suddenly hanging up the phone.
Not before her laugh seeps out of the phone again.
He growls, throwing the phone across the room as John Watson enters the living room, slipping off his coat.
"Mycroft?" John asks quietly, moving towards the fridge. Sherlock doesn't move.
"Not this time, John."
He stands suddenly, moving towards his bedroom in a hurry. His voice filters back into the kitchen.
"I presume you're going out with Sarah tonight?"
"Yeah, dinner."
Sherlock flusters back into the kitchen, gulping down the rest of his coffee and shrugging on his blazer. He slips his phone into his breast pocket and reaches for his coat. John raises an eyebrow.
"Where are you off to?"
Sherlock stops putting on his scarf to glance in John's direction. "I have… uh… a date." He says simply, slipping out the door before John has a chance to say anything else.
Irene sighs, taking a slight slip of her red wine, and fixes her dress. Her dark brown hair falls in a cascade down her back and she runs a hand loosely through it, ignoring the stares she gets from the men around her. She takes a larger sip of wine as she checks the time on her phone.
8:01. Late.
She smiles into the glass, but it vanishes as soon as she sees him slip through the front door, shrugging off his coat. She doesn't stand as he sits across from her. He straightens his blazer and calls over a waiter. He doesn't acknowledge her until after he's ordered a glass of wine for himself. Finally, he looks hard into her dark eyes and he clicks his tongue. She smiles.
"Hello."
"Hi."
She shifts her weight so her elbow rests on the table, her chin in her hand.
"You look nice." She grins, and he simply glares at her, slamming down his glass.
"What do you want?" He growls, keeping his voice low in the busy restaurant. She raises an eyebrow and throws her hands lightly in the air.
"To catch up. Really, Sherlock, you need to lighten up." She reaches across the table and runs her thumb across his hand. Her sly smile returns as he lets out a huff, slipping his hand onto his lap. "Are you eating?"
"No."
"Oh, a case? Do tell."
He glares at her, sipping on his wine.
"No."
She pouts her lips and he straightens in his seat.
"Are we down here?" He growls, shoving his wine glass in her direction.
"You tell me." She breathes, leaning a little closer. Her perfume seeps into his senses, and he stands.
"Goodbye, Irene. Enjoy your time in London, which I'm guessing won't be long judging by the engagement ring on your finger. How come I haven't received an invitation?" He huffs, slipping on his coat again. She glances down at the ring.
"I haven't bothered taking it off yet, really. It keeps away the bad men." She mocks, toying with the ring with her fingers.
"Poor man. Hasn't even realized that his mothers old pearls have been nicked from right underneath him."
"Quite literally." She winks, her hand moving to the necklace. "It's worth two million pounds."
"This is the last conversation we're having, Irene. I would be out of a job if Lestrade knew I was here."
"Money, money, money." She waves a hand. Sherlock growls, taking a twenty-pound note out of his pocket and slamming it down on the table.
"Thanks for the wine, Sherlock."
She watches him leave the restaurant and calling a cab outside. She takes another long sip of wine, his wine, leaving a red lipstick mark on the rim. She slips the ring off her finger, dropping it into the wine glass with a plop. She stands slowly, leaving the note on the table and hailing a taxi, leaving in the opposite direction.
Taking a sip of his martini, Jim Moriarty watches her leave. The blonde who's been chatting at him across the table drones on as Irene vanishes from sight. He forces himself to look back at his date, not bothering to smile when needed. He feels a smile tug at his lips.
She's back.