Sherlock Holmes turned at the click, click, click of high heels on the polished concrete floor, and watched her approach. It had still been dark when he had received her cryptic text and rushed out of the flat without even leaving a note for John. He glanced down at the phone in his gloved hand considering sending one now, before placing it in the pocket of his long black coat.

The Woman was dressed in a knee length wrap of deep indigo-blue. Her walk was distinctive. Sherlock could have recognized it anywhere despite the fact that she was simply placing one foot in front of the other. The black stiletto-heel of one fur lined boot lining up exactly with the previous step. Her short blond hair peeked out from under an ebony-colored fur hat. One hand held her wrap closed and the other swung smoothly around the slight curve of her hip. The blue-grey light spilling through the open windows of the abandoned warehouse mirrored the color of her eyes as she stared across at Sherlock, her gaze zeroing in on his like an arrow hitting its mark.

"Sherlock," she said spreading her legs slightly as she stopped just outside of his arm's reach. "Thank you for coming."

"Irene," he said nodding. "I assumed from your note that this was urgent. It must be serious for you to return to London."

Irene clasped the wrap a bit tighter, "Someone's after me," she said.

"That's hardly new. Why do they want you this time?"

"You know why," she said with a bat of her bleached eyelashes. " I misbehave."

Sherlock stood up straighter, looking down at her red, red lips, the edges of which were curved upward in a tight calculated smile. He was beginning to fill with that uncertain excitement that he always felt around Irene, the feeling of being in the presence of someone whose intellect mirrored his own. He had to fight to keep a smile off of his face. He mustn't show emotion to Irene. The game must be played. "Do you want me to find out who's after you?"

She gave a short laugh, "No, I know exactly the man who is after me. He is not subtle in his threats."

"Then why contact me?"

"I have something I need protected, guarded."

"The last time that you gave me something to guard, my landlady was hurt and my life was threatened. I don't much like guarding your things."

"This is different," she said.

"Sorry, not interested."

"Do you want me to beg?"

"I'm not getting involved in your plots. Good day Irene," Sherlock said as he walked toward the exit.

Irene swung around. "Sherlock!...Please!" she called after him, the edge of her mask slipping.

Sherlock stopped. He turned toward her.

"Please...I'll owe you one," she said.

"You already owe me one," Sherlock stated.

"But you are the only ones I can trust."

"The only 'ones'? What do you mean by that?"

"You and John. You're the only ones that I can trust to guard the thing most precious to me."

"Your phone?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Sherlock, you know that was just business. You, of all people, should understand."

"Understand what?"

"My secret. That even I have things that I care for."

Sherlock noticed the tear in the edge of her eye, and the nervous movements of her perfectly manicured nails. He put out his hand. "Alright, hand it over."

"I don't have it with me now. I'm sending it too you. It's already on it's way."

"How will I contact you to give it back?"

"I'll contact you when the coast is clear, and Sherlock... Thank you," she said before striding smartly away, her hips swaying from side to side as she walked out of the building without another word, jumping into a white sedan and speeding off.

Sherlock pulled out his phone and sent a message.

.

John Watson had just put on the kettle and was beginning to wonder where Sherlock had got to, when he heard his phone beep. He walked into the living room to the desk and read the message from Sherlock.

[Package coming your way. If arrives before I return, please put somewhere safe. Might be dangerous - SH]

John replied. [Package? What is it? Who from?]

[Remember the Vatican cameos? - SH]

Just then, there was a ring on the bell. John texted, [Someone at door, must be package. Getting my gun?]

[Good Idea - SH]

John tied his bathrobe tightly around his waist and then pulled open the desk drawer removing the Browning. He checked to see that it was loaded before slipping it into his pocket.

The person on the bell buzzed again and again impatiently as John resolutely walked down the stairs. He opened the door to reveal a girl of about fifteen in a white school blazer and a short green plaid skirt above knee-length, striped socks and black and white saddle shoes. She was leaning against the door frame. She ran her fingers through her long black curls and blew a bubble, sucking the pink gum back into her mouth and chewing it as she looked him over from head to toe.

"Good Morning," John said. "Can I help you?"

"Yeah, I think you can," she said giving John a wicked grin.

John leaned sideways to look behind the girl, but she wasn't carrying anything, not even a purse to hold a phone in, so he asked, "Do you happen to have something for me?"

The girl nodded and put a hand on John's chest pushing him back into the flat as she kicked the door closed with her foot. She reached up and took the gum out of her mouth leaping forward and wrapping her arms around John before giving him a deep kiss on the mouth.

John staggered back stunned for a minute before grabbing the girl's arms and pulling them down. She tried to press her body up against him, but John held her wrists firmly. "Whoa! whoa there," he said. "You're acting a bit too friendly to someone that you just met. I could easily be your father. Who are you anyway?"

The girl pulled out of his grasp and put the gum back into her mouth winking at him as she blew another bubble. Then she said, "Hi handsome. My name is Amanda. Amanda Adler."