So I needed a break from some of my other stories and decided to do this quick little number, simply because there needs to be waaaay more Irene/Sherlock fics than there are now.
Hope you enjoy!
You may be a genius Holmes but I don't think you will ever truly understand how much I love you. How every time I marry another man I die a little inside because I know the man at the end of the aisle is never going to be you.
Sometimes this neediness, this sickness makes me want to gag. When did I come to need anyone? I have traveled the world alone with only by priceless—err souvenirs and have never even felt a whiff of loneliness. Before I met you I did not need anyone.
Men were simply my hobby. Stealing my passion.
But then I met you my darling.
You are not like any man I have ever met. Your eyes are an intense icy blue that watch my every move, always careful to make sure you stay a step ahead. I remember falling madly in love with your intelligent eyes, hoping to catch their calculated attention.
And when you first swept your cap off your head and let your dark curls free I felt my fingers twinge with longing. They ached to comb through those dark, thick tresses.
The night I first met you, we were in London at a social event hosted by Lady Catherine or was it Wilhelmina. I was with Lord Willard at the time but that did not seem to deter you, you continued to stare after me for the rest of the evening. I think you knew my true intentions for coming to the event. Lady Whats-her-face was known for her priceless diamond tear necklace.
We did not know each other before that night but I already knew who you were. A women of my talents always knows her opposition. The articles I read hardly did you justice. But what do editors care about your scruffy, stubble face and your commanding posture. Why would they waste ink describing your sharp features and defensive bearing.
If I had known about the real you, Sherlock, I would have made it a point to meet you sooner. But that night I took a little pleasure in your obvious discomfort in the presence of the Empire's elite. It made me feel that I had at least some advantage over you.
Lord Willard led me to the dance floor and carefully swung me around, too afraid to be more exotic. Why must the rich be so spineless? He twirled me around a few more times until I felt the need to barf from boredom but then I felt the hand holding mine change. It was rougher that Willard's more masculine and full of purpose, swiftly the hand pulled me into its owner which was none other than you, Sherlock. I uncharacteristically blushed at being only inches from you, my nerves keenly aware of your hands gently placed onto my silken covered hips.
"You seem bored Lady Willard," you commented tugging me to the rhythm of the violins.
"I am sure I do not know what you are talking about, Mr. Holmes," I say indignant. Never would I be so stupid as to let my guard down and show my views of tonight's events.
"Sherlock will do," you smirked spinning me around till I am breathless.
"A peculiar name," I commented trying to gain a steady heartbeat.
"Not as peculiar as yours Irene Adler or is it Willard or Jacobson or Von Hugh? You flit from husband to husband, it's so hard to keep track," you smiled, your eyes scorching.
"What are names but chains that hold us to just one identity," I smiled coyly, quoting a poet.
"I suppose chains would make it rather difficult to steal the Tsar's Jeweled Egg or the First Lady's broach."
That makes me pause if only for a moment. How could you have possibly known that those items were in my possession? I expected the police to file out of the linen curtains when you said your line but the music continued and you were still fluidly leading me around the dance floor.
The smug look was still on your face. I find that it infuriates me for you to think you could out smart me, when no man alive has ever done so. I want to slap it off but I find that would be too passionate of me, you would know exactly how much you had a hold on me. So I waited.
Eventually, the song ended and I slipped you an endearing smile before walking back into the arms of my soon to be ex-husband. I don't need to look back to know that you are still watching me. I feel the intensity of your eyes on my laced up back. I allowed my hips to swing as I walked, tantalizing you.
After the first meeting I became an addict. Every newspaper clipping of you was saved; every mention of you caused my stomach to churn and my heart to thunder in my chest. You were my only vice.
I felt a pang of hurt after each new heist. Cops and detectives would chase after me and they would send out dogs and hunters to catch me. But why were you not among them? Am I not important enough for you to try and catch? Are my staggering feats of thievery too beneath you to solve?
Every time I effortlessly walk out of vaults and restricted areas I want to see you there at the entrance waiting for me. Your hat tilted perfectly over your eyes and yours hands tucked casually in your pockets like you knew all along that this is where you would find me.
I want you to find me Sherlock Holmes.
Well what do you think? Like it, hate it, unsure? It's okay you can tell me. I'm a big girl I'm sure I can handle it! But there is a fine line between being critical and just being rude.
But anyways—REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW