Title: Spring Awakening
Author: AnnieVH
Summary: "Their careless fun was turning into madness, and surely that was enough."
Rating: PG.
Genre: Het. Romance-ish?
Characters or Pairing: Sherlock, Irene
Prompts: this is my entry for the spring challenge on thegameison_sh
Warning: none.
Spoilers: none. You've read A Scandal in Bohemia, right?
Disclaimer: don't own, just burrow.

Their careless fun was turning into madness, and surely that was enough.

"I'm gonna be busy."

Irene offered him a tiny, disappointed smile. "I haven't told you the date yet."

"Opera season is over, Lestrade is allowed near me again. I bet he's got a case or two for me."

"You don't like rock opera."

"These two concepts don't go together."

"If it makes you feel better, it's actually a musical."

Sherlock's first response would have been to laugh on her face. Then explain why rock'n'roll was not music, to begin with. And explain why musicals were just cute, popular version of opera for the less patient - surely as a professional opera singer she could see that. Then, he'd get to the subject of why a musical based on a play about teen sexuality rocked to the sound of slang and profanities would never be of his interest. And then, he'd laugh some more.

But he summarized everything in a simple, "Ah." Hoping it would sound a bit more gentlemanish.

Irene understood what he meant and nodded. "Right. Well, I suppose you can't force someone to love something they just don't. I'll find you something different. Rent is obviously out of question - which is a real pity. I played Mimi on Broadway, you know? And it was inspired by my favorite opera. Maybe Wicked will be more your thing. Or The Phantom of the Opera." And she cocked her head to the side to examine his face, trying to find something there that could point her to the right direction.

Sherlock didn't know if he was looking condescending, bored or just plain blank, but whatever Irene found on his face was enough to make her shake her head, "No. Yes. Well. Opera season is over. I suppose we all should go back to our lives." She wagged her tickets in the air. "Our own things."

"If I ever made you believe-" He started, knowing very well they had never made any promises to each other. It was a business liaison. When that was over, there was respect. And love for the opera, of course, and how refreshing to find someone that could actually understand what it was all about and engage in intelligent conversation on the subject. And she could sing. And he could listen to her sing all night and play to her voice.

She didn't let him finish, "Don't flatter yourself." She was still smiling, resigned. "It's not this. We're not- I don't mean-" She cursed and her face turned red as she looked for the right words, but found none. Sherlock expected her to kick something, because she could have a nasty temper when things didn't go her way. Her manager was constantly pushing on that subject as the producers were reluctant to hire her in the first place because she was not a team player and liked to behave like a Prima Donna sometimes. Irene just told them to shove it and kicked her chairs anyways. She was unique, after all, that would always force them overlook her challenging personality.

This time, a deep breath was enough to get her thoughts back on track. "Yes. Don't worry. It's nothing like that."

He nodded. "Good. That wasn't my intention."

"Neither was mine." She insisted. "I just never thought I could bore you. That's all."

Sherlock knew a few policemen who'd love to see him speechless and was sure John would love to capture that moment in video for posterity. Gladly, there was only the both of them in the kitchen, waiting for him to say something.

Boring. Irene Adler could never be boring. If anything, she was challenging. Complicated. High-maintenance. Talented. Annoying at times. Demanding most times. Not boring. Not her. That was not boring what they had. Wasn't careless fun either. Nor sexual attraction. Nor love. Nothing like that. It was something new and way more complex. Like what he had with John, only, no, not exactly like it. He knew he could spend the rest of his living years by her side and she would never bore him.

He replied, "That's not true." But she didn't really believe him and made her way to the door. "Maybe I'll see you next season." She said, and Sherlock knew she was lying. But saying goodbye was such a cliche, and she hated to be obvious.

**FIM**