"I'm sorry." He said in a low, hesitant voice. She didn't answer him. He took a deep breath and curled up on his side. The silence between the two of them was thick, heavy and unwanted. A hand was reached out, touching the back of a neck. He tensed.
"I will never forget you." Irene shakily whispered. Sherlock decided to not face her yet, assuming she was crying. He opened his mouth, several times, without saying anything.
"I just…" Her tone was suddenly strong and controlled again. "I will miss you." The weight of a body got up from the bed and he could hear her hurried footsteps walk around the room, collecting her clothes and belongings.
"I'm sorry." He repeated. The footsteps ceased.
"Why?" She sharply replied.
"It's just that… I guess I'll miss you too."
Silence.
"I don't have to go."
"You have to go." He disagreed at once.
"It's your choice." She sighed, and quickly applied her usual make up. The mask that isolated and protected her from the rest of the world. Her eyeliner and mascara. Sherlock scrutinized her thin gestalt in the hall mirror. She met his gaze and swirled around, her hand hugging the lipstick tightly.
"I…" He looked away. "I cannot." She put on her shoes, and walked over to the closed door. She raised her hand, resting it on the door handle. She gazed at the tall, slender man in the bed. "I won't leave John. I won't leave me. How can you even consider sharing a life with me? Alone is what I have, alone protects me." She nodded in agreement. They could never give up themselves for each other, she should have realised earlier.
"I don't need your pity, or your explanation." He recognized the voice. Cold. Unemotional. Shattered.
"I don't want them to have you." He gravely said and stared at the wall behind her. "You're not like the others. They will never understand you like I do."
"I love you, Sherlock." Irene susurrated. There was no desire or pressure behind the words, simply because they didn't matter.
"I know. I wish… I could have you." He admitted and buried his face in his hands. She didn't know what to say.
Irene turned around, now facing the door. As she was just about to leave, she sensed his gaze scanning her back. She held her breath and tried to ignore the urge to stay, to beg him for mercy. But how could she ever do that? She wouldn't, even if she wanted. Irene Adler could never be dependent on another human being. She exhaled and suddenly heard steps. A large hand slowly and tightly grasped her wrist. The distinct movement forced her body to turn around, to face him. He forcefully kissed her, crushed his lips against hers before she could object. Her head hit back and she suppressed a groan as the pain crept somewhere in distance.
"If only we had met first." He told her against her lips. "In another life." She nodded and pushed the door open.
"Goodbye." She sharply said. He touched her, hoping his fingers would remember the surface of her smooth, cold skin. Her scent still lingered heavily in the flat. He wondered if he ever would be able to let her go. Or to be more precise, he wondered if he ever would be able let the thought of her go.
She left him. She hurried down the stairs, throwing herself out of the front door. She started running, as fast as she could in her ridiculously high heels. She brushed away something wet from her cheek.
A tear.
AN: It's NOT like that; I still ship Sherlock/Irene harder than anything. You'll have to wait to the next part to grasp. You'll hear from me soon. Promise.