A meeting with The Woman.

It had been a week since faking his own suicide and Sherlock Holmes didn't feel the same way as he should have. He felt relieved; his best friend, landlady and kind-of-not-really-friend were alive, he was tired and a bit of him was scared. He was 'visiting' an old couples home while they were away and it was relatively comfortable and spacious. But Sherlock didn't want to be comfortable; he wanted to know the rest of the story. Moriarty couldn't be dead and he was sure that he knew of Holmes's survival. He had never been so misinformed and as everyone thought he was a fake, and dead for that matter, he could hardly investigate freely. He had been using disguises but he found that no one trusted him whilst wearing a false nose and buck teeth.

Sherlock was lying on the couch half asleep with his feet on the armrest when he heard it. Just a few scratching, but that was enough to get his attention. His hand jumped to the gun that these days he kept so close and handy, but he knew of the element of surprise so he placed a pillow over the weapon and pretended to be asleep. The tick-tack of heals came from the kitchen and Sherlock hypothesized that whoever it was had climbed through the window. Then he caught a smell of perfume and knew instantly who it was. He had met her few times, but her scent was most memorable. "It seems you have entered a placing in the list of the supposedly dead, then?"

"Indeed," Sherlock answered while sitting up to face Irene Adler. "I trust your well?"
"Marginally." She replied, and he saw that the quality of her clothes and make-up hadn't even decreased. She was as erotic as ever and though Sherlock's emotions functioned differently than others, he felt an unfamiliar tug in his stomach. She went on. "Dear me, did I ever tell you that it's rather hard to be dead? I was getting quite bored before you decided to jump of a tall building"

"Why are you here?" he was annoyed at the flippant way she was regarding his 'death'. actually,I'm not. he realized in amazement.

"Checking on you, darling, isn't that what people normally do."

"Do you really think that I know a thing about normality?" he asked in a clipped voice.

"You don't have to be normal, "Irene smiled. "To know of it." She sat on a single chair a short distant away from him. "I want to know how you did it. And what is happening while you're dead, you do know that John Watson has already moved out of 221b?"

He nodded, than replied vocally. "You should already know how I worked it, how helped and how much planning it took. But I will skip over the boring small talk where you pretend to be surprised. And as for John, of course I know, Moriarty may well have left traps and it would be foolish not to keep track."

They looked into each other's eyes and he saw that The Woman did in fact know, but he, but it was obvious that she wanted a full explanation did not want to talk about the fall and she sensed this and let it go, deciding another path.

"You do know john fancied you?" she asked. "Do I have to be jealous? All those nights…alone?" Sherlock lay back onto the couch and closed his eyes, hands resting under his chin. Irene smiled slightly, stood and walked to the prone Sherlock bending down and brushing her lips against his forehead. "I will see you Mr Holmes." Than she was gone, leaving no sign of her ever being there.