Thanks to jnicweb for beta reading!
It seemed to be the first time that Sebastian had to wait behind the doors: Jim had declared that he had had a lady to meet, and hadn't reacted to Sebastian's proposal to send the meeting and the lady, too, to hell. Sebastian wondered if the today's lady was as scary as that Chinese one. That was Jim's way of doing things, after all…
Moran called both of them all kind of names, carefully and with pleasure, and then, feeling bored, looked over the wallpaper pattern. He was at headquarters for the first time after repair and had no idea about its new interior. The wallpaper was found to be tasteless, and Seb decided to take part in decorating, as any normal cat would. The paper, or whatever it was, stayed undamaged after him trying it with a fingernail. But it didn't mean anything because Sebastian always had his nails cut clearly. A couple of bullets released to the wall made the corridor more likeable or, at least, more real, since the corridor didn't look like a magazine picture anymore. And it was also a try for his new silencer, even if shooting walls wasn't a fresh idea. When it became boring, too, the blond leaned against the door comfortably and listened.
He didn't overhear anything interesting as the conversation was almost over. They spoke about Sherlock; the lady has a nice voice; Jim liked her, obviously and not mutually… Sebastian heard him saying "Have a good day, Miss" and, without knocking, jerked the door open.
Moran had had no taste to women while being in army. Then, working for Moriarty, he just hadn't got it. He had never counted his money and had been able to afford anything, but had got really bored from wasting time and money on stupid girls; it had always been much more interesting to spend all that on weapons… Yet he couldn't help thinking how beautiful, how very beautiful the lady was. And how really lady-like she behaved.
A true soldier hardly could be confused. As Sebastian believed, there were no ex-soldiers. So he stayed calm, as did the lady. And they examined each other like that: with almost indifferent looks, but carefully and silently. But Jim (Sebastian strongly wanted to advice him to pick up his dropped jaw) was three times more bustling than usually, and it didn't improve his mood. He looked furiously at the sniper and addressed himself to the lady, smiling false: "I beg your pardon, that's a man of mine; Sebastian never had good manners," and then snapped at Moran: "Don't stand still! Don't you see that the lady wants to come out?"
Seb didn't react at all for a few seconds, as if not hearing, then answered strangely, his voice smooth and slow.
"Never try to say what a lady wants. Women are sometimes unpredictable…"
And all that – not taking his eyes off the woman's face. She smiled at his words, but very simply, with only the corners of her lips. One couldn't say anything, basing on the smile.
Silence followed his words. When Sebastian noticed that Jim was going to burst with commands again, he calmed the brunet with a short expressive look, but moved at last and let the lady pass him. Then he glanced at her one more time, stepped into the room, and closed the door after him.
Jim put out his tongue at the door. Sebastian laughed shortly and asked: "Who was that?"
"Irene Adler. She's helping me in my next round against Sherlock."
Jim remembered his plan and rubbed his hands, excited, but didn't notice the slightest interest on Moran's face and shouted at him again immediately.
"You idiot! Dream on, she doesn't sleep with whoever she looks at!"
"And with you?" Seb replied coldly.
"Do you say I am a "whoever"?!"
"I don't know yet. So?"
Jim, being pressed, blew out and even lost a great part if his irritation. Sebastian waited on. At last, Moriarty let out a "no" and finally got to the reason why he had summoned his best sniper.
...The Pakistan terrorists' story had been planned carefully by Moriarty. After it, Sebastian had lost The Woman's track. But a week after the "Sherlock Holmes' suicide," Sebastian found her at London and came to hers with a bottle of expensive wine.
The Woman had had to mask herself carefully after her communication with the detective, and now there was no resemblance to the Irene of past. Complicated hair styles were left for a usual ponytail, crimson claws became short nails with a modest sort of manicure, gorgeous gowns gave way to trousers and a shirt. But the same flame was burning in her, and that was what mattered. Her eyes were as bright and as attractive as before.
She knew that and took her time.
"It's the second day I am in London, and here you are. How have you found me?" She asked quietly.
"Oh, please, I've been working for Jim Moriarty for more than five years…"
She seemed to feel nervous: "Mr. Moriarty needs something more from me?"
"No." He smiled softly. "I only meant that you can learn some things from him."
He poured the wine. She asked on: "Do you suppose him to be alive?"
"He certainly can be so."
Both of them made a pause to taste wine. Then, she smiled confusedly: "And Jim?"
He smiled, too.
"Yes. Jim is safe and sound. Actually, that's me who shot there… But that's a long story. You only need to know its ending: he is somewhere at the end of the world, and I am to fly to him. My plane takes off in eight hours."
He didn't seem to end, but broke his speech and took one more gulp, enjoying the drink and the silence. Then: "And, you know, I want to spend the time… in a beautiful way."
She looked at her glass, her eyes half closed. Her phrase was exact and correct.
"I like your tastes."
He smiled again: "So do I."
They spent the next few hours not on speaking at all…