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IRENE
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Summary: AU Pointless One-shot An encounter between two of the most brilliant minds of nineteenth century. Sherlock-Irene
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"And now?" asked Dr. Watson.
"Our quest is practically finished. I shall call with the King tomorrow, and with you, if you care to come with us. We will be shown in to the sitting-room to wait for the lady, but it is probably that when she comes she may find neither us nor the photograph. It might be a satisfaction to his Majesty to regain it with his own hands."
"And when will you call?"
"At eight in the morning. She will not be up, so that we shall have a clear field. Besides, we must be prompt, for this marriage may mean a complete change in her life and habits. I must wire to the King without delay."
The two men reached the Baker Street.
"I shall take a cab home. Good-night, Holmes."
Neither of the man noticed the sharp eyes of a slim youth in an ulster observing them with a half-frustrated-half-triumphant look.
As Holmes was searching his pocket for the keys, the same person passed him, stopping momentarily only for a "Good-night, Mister Sherlock Holmes."
Holmes stopped dead in his search. That voice…
He had heard it not long ago. He knew it… in fact… with a shallower accent…
… "Is the poor gentleman hurt?"…
"By Jove!"
He turned – there were a lot of people on the pavement just then. But he didn't miss the figure hurrying through them. In fact, although non-descript, it was pretty noticeable because of the fast pace.
Holmes began following the person. Maybe his presence was sensed because the pursued broke into a run – dashing off around the busier road, hoping to lose the pursuant.
Not a wise move.
Holmes' hawkish eyes did not lose their object. He raced at his fastest pace with little care.
Breathing heavily, she stopped for a moment and threw him a quick glance… he was too near… without a thought, she turned and not noticing the carriages speeding down the road, made to hasten to the other side.
She had hardly taken two steps when there was a yell and two strong arms gripped her own and pulled her back with such force that both – she and her… rescuer – fell back on the pavement with hurting force.
A moment later, angry horses tore down the road.
People had stopped and some were gathering around them.
Her cheeks coloured as she felt warm breath caress her neck and the arms encircle her. She turned her head slightly and found herself staring into deep dark eyes. It was a moment. It was eternity.
He got up and then pulled her to her feet.
Someone shouted something at her – obviously thinking that she was a reckless young man – but she didn't hear them. She didn't even look up – her cover would most definitely be blown.
He let go of her hand and dispelled the lingerers.
But he didn't go away. She felt his presence next to him. She began walking down the street at a sedate pace. There was no use running.
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"It was clever of you."
She stopped near her house, staring down at the spot where the pseudo old man had lay clutching his head.
He made no reply. Did she sense defeat?
She took off the hat and looked up, letting her silky hair fall in waves down her back.
"You found me out," he stated impassively. But she could read his eyes. The turmoil within him was great.
"I spoiled my own plan – I could not resist wishing you a 'Good-night'. I thought I could fool you."
She would have, he felt, if her voice was not so… deeply set in his mind.
She glanced at her house.
"You know where it is then. But," she said, her eyes alit with inner fire, "I am not going to give it up! I know what will happen then… he won't stop at it. He'll get me out of his way entirely – by any means he can think. I need something for my protection – and my husband's."
It was for less than a second – a violent emotion reflected on Holmes' face – but it was gone so soon that she couldn't be sure.
She folded her arms and leaned against the wall, defiant.
"Of course," he said quietly, raising his eyes to meet hers.
She was shocked. "You… you're…"
"I am at liberty to decide my stand in this matter," he said stiffly.
"He's paying you for it."
"He's paying to have me save his reputation."
She narrowed her eyes. "And are you not suspicious that I will… expose it?"
He raised a mocking brow.
"Not if you love Mr. Norton, madam."
A pink flush rose up her cheeks and she turned to go.
It was immensely impulsive – not to mention against his set principles. But he couldn't restrain himself. He was a man. Abstinence over the years had not made him forget that.
He put a restraining hand on her arm and turned her to face him. Bringing up his other hand to her cheek, he lowered his lips to hers; catching them in a short, sweet kiss. It was an alien act for him. Hence, he let go pretty quickly.
Unsettled and blinking in confusion and longing, Irene stared after the tall, dark figure disappearing into the night.
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FINIS
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Author's Notes: As pointless as promised, wasn't it? In any case, being my first Sherlock Holmes fanfiction-piece, I'd be glad if you'd review. Yes, that was out of character behaviour for him, but I can see him do that… or at least my romantic fan-girl side can… ;)
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