The Woman (Without a Tail)

I know. This one is unbelievably short, and I know probably a lot of you wanted to see some Irene Adler, but honestly, I couldn't find much about her story that would be relevant to mine. So, yeah, this one is short.


"Coventry," said Sherlock suddenly, dragging himself from his thoughts to address John.

But John wasn't the one sitting across from him.

Irene Adler sat curled up in John's chair in his dressing gown, watching him closely. "I've never been. Is it nice?"

"Where's John?" asked Sherlock, glancing around the dim sitting room.

Irene gave a small frown. "He went out a couple of hours ago."

"I was just talking to him," Sherlock muttered.

"He said you do that," said Irene.

Irene proceeded to ask about Coventry, and Sherlock elaborated on the idea that had sprung into his head. When he was finished, Irene watched him longer than would be expected, based on the conversation they had just had. He frowned at her, trying to decipher what might be going through her head.

"How did you move the water in that glass?"

Sherlock blinked a few times, taken aback. How could she know? When had this happened? It couldn't be a coincidence. It was too specific of a question. "I beg your pardon?"

"Oh, don't bother denying it," said Irene, leaning back in the chair and crossing her legs. "I saw it plain as day."

Sherlock frowned. What the bloody hell is she talking about?

"Well, let me jog your memory," said Irene. "After all, you were quite incapacitated at the time." She leaned forward again. "When I returned your coat, you started to come to. Just as you started to go back under again, you moved your arm towards your nightstand. There was a glass of water sitting on it."

Oh, shit, thought Sherlock as his breath froze in his lungs.

"As your hand neared it, the water moved," Irene went on, a conniving smile on her face. "It moved so much that the glass slid across the surface." She stared at him for a long moment. "How did you do it?"

Sherlock gave a very put-upon sigh, relenting. After all, this was Irene Adler; she would find out one way or another. Best to tell her now under his terms. "You mean you don't already know?"

Irene shook her head, clearly on the edge of her seat.

Sherlock leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. "You're not going to blackmail me, are you?"

Irene leaned forward as well. "I can't imagine why I would need to."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes and then opened his mouth to answer.

"Sherlock!" Mrs. Hudson called from the stairwell.

Irene let out a sigh. "Too late."


Three Weeks Later

Irene finished typing out her text and handed the phone over as he stepped up next to her and placed the scimitar against the back of her neck. She closed her eyes as he waited. The next second, his phone went off in his pocket, blaring out Irene's unique text alert. He watched as her eyes snapped open and turned in his direction.

"When I say run, run," Sherlock told her.

He turned and swung the sword at the nearest man. As the others raised their guns towards them, Sherlock stepped up next to Irene and held his arms up. As the automatic rifles went off and Irene let out a yell, the bullets came to a stop a foot away from them. Sherlock turned his hands and sent the bullets back at the terrorists. They all went down, most of them groaning in pain and a few of them dead. Irene looked up at him, slightly startled, but an amazed, knowing smile was appearing on her face.

Sherlock took her hand, pulling her to her feet and pulling the cloth covering his face off, tossing it aside. "Run."

Smiling, Irene raced after him as he led her to the car he had waiting.

Ten minutes later, as they were driving away from Karachi, Irene turned to him. "So, do I get to finally know the truth about Sherlock Holmes now that I owe him my life and will therefore never tell anyone?"

Sherlock smirked. "Can you blame me? You haven't exactly been the most trustworthy of people."

"Needless to say, I have learned from my mistake." She leaned forward. "Go on, Mr. Holmes. Impress a girl."

Sherlock glanced sideways at her expectant expression and then back at the road, sighing. "I'm a merman."

There was silence for a long moment.

"A merman," stated Irene in an obviously disbelieving tone.

"You've seen me move things with my mind, twice," said Sherlock. "Why is this so hard to believe?"

"Fair point," said Irene. "Would be easier to swallow if you could give me proof."

"Not while I'm driving," Sherlock told her. "But I can do this." He raised his hand in front of himself and twisted it as he closed his fist, turning invisible. He smiled as Irene gasped in shock. He stayed invisible a moment more as he chuckled. He dropped his hand, reappearing.

"Well, well," said Irene. "You're just full of surprises."