"He won't even mention her by name, just The Woman." John said, sipping his tea and watching Mycroft.
"Is that loathing, or a salute?" Mycroft said, fixing John with a stare. "Of a kind," he added thoughtfully, "the one woman who matters."
John felt doubt.
"He's not like that. He doesn't feel things that way…I don't think." Mycroft shuffled in his seat.
"My brother has the mind of a scientist or a philosopher, yet he elects to be a detective. What might we deduce about his heart?"
"I don't know." John said honestly.
"Neither do I. But initially he wanted to be a pirate."
Sherlock sat at the kitchen table, looking down a microscope. He had to pause ever few minutes and rub angrily at his eyes. He hated feeling like this. Grieving. And he couldn't tell John. He'd send him to his stupid therapist, or something idiotic like that.
The text had come through two months ago. From some using Scotland Yard equipment and tracing the signal, he saw the text was from Karachi.
He'd then gotten into Mycroft's documents while his brother had been at the Diogenes Club. Beheaded. There were photographs and everything. Head and body. Definitely her. He'd come home that night, thrown up, and gone to bed before John got back from wherever he'd been.
He shuddered at the memory, and, hearing John coming up the stairs, pretended to be concentrating on the microscope. He swallowed as John stepped in.
"Clearly you've got news. If it's about the Leeds triple murder, it was the gardener. Nobody noticed the earring."
"What? Er, no it's um, it's about Irene Adler."
Sherlock looked up, steeling himself. John was holding the file he'd found at Mycroft's. The phone too. He blinked, pretending to be oblivious.
"Oh? Something happened? Did she come back?" He asked quickly, locking down all his emotions. If John was going to break the news to him, he needed to act like he didn't already know.
"No, I just bumped into Mycroft downstairs, he had to take a call."
Oh John, Sherlock thought, terrible liar.
"Is she back in London?" He asked, standing up.
"No she's er…" Sherlock stepped forward, fixing John with a stare, almost daring him to tell him. John took in a deep breath. "She's in America." He said brightly. Sherlock deflated. He genuinely looked surprised.
"America?"
"Mmhmm, got herself on a witness protection scheme…apparently. Don't know how she swung it, but uh, you know."
"I know what?" Sherlock asked, defensive.
"Well you…won't be able to see her again." John said, sounding sympathetic.
"Why would I want to see her again?" Sherlock asked, stiffly, eyeing the phone.
John smiled.
"Didn't say you did.."
"That her file?" Sherlock asked, sitting down at his microscope again. He had to act like he didn't care. At least if John had told him he'd be able to show a little emotion.
"Yeah, I've got to give it back to Mycroft." John said. "Do you want to…?"
"No." Sherlock said firmly. He didn't need to see the photographs, or the faked information.
There was a long, awkward pause.
"Listen, actually.." John started. Oh god, he was actually going to tell him. Sherlock butted in, not wanting to hear it, he decided.
"Oh but I will have the camera phone though." He said, holding out his hand.
John looked confused.
"There's nothing on it any more. It's been stripped." He said, sympathetic.
"I know, well I…I'll still have it." Sherlock said.
Panicking, John said,
"I've got to give this back to Mycroft, you can't keep it."
Sherlock moved his hand slightly, making John feel bad.
"Sherlock I have to give this to Mycroft it's the government's now." He quickly said, apologetic.
"Please." Sherlock said, swallowing, staring into his microscope to stop himself crying.
After a few moments, John clearly felt bad, and gave him the phone. Sherlock curled his fingers around it, before putting it in his pocket.
"Thank you." He murmured.
John looked amazed.
"Well, better take this back." He muttered.
"Yes." Sherlock said quickly, wanting to be alone.
John was going, thank God, John was going…he stopped in the doorway and walked back in. Sherlock cursed silently.
"Did she ever text you again? After…all that." John said awkwardly, tilting his head.
"Once, few months ago." Sherlock murmured.
John nodded.
"What'd she say?"
Sherlock couldn't help it. He wanted John gone, just for a few moments, so he could sort himself out.
"Goodbye Mr Holmes." He said, voice thick, clearly close to tears.
John looked devastated. He observed Sherlock for a moment, trying to read him, but gave up, paced a moment, deciding whether to tell him the truth, but eventually left in silence.
Sherlock looked up to check he'd left. He got up, unlocking his own phone, and started flicking through the texts, eyes watering. He walked to the window and stared out at the rain once he'd finished reading them.
Goodbye Mr Holmes.
Sherlock sighed and closed his eyes. He couldn't go through this again. He had to do something. He took a deep breath and started editing his mind palace.
Mind_Palace:\Floor5\Third_Room_On_The_Left\Irene\I renes_Folder\Images_Seen
delete
Mind_Palace:\Floor5\Third_Room_On_The_Left\Irene\I renes_Folder\documents_Read
delete
Mind_Palace:\Floor4\Second_Room_On_The_Right\Mycro ft_Holmes\Going_To_Mycrofts_To_Look_For_Irene's_Fo lder
delete
Mind_Palace:\Floor4\Second_Room_On_The_Left\Lestra de\Going_To_Scotland_Yard_To_Trace_Irenes_Text
delete
create_new_file?
filename:Karachi
file_destination: MindPalace:\Floor5\Third_Room_On_The_Left\Irene\
recording_file
Irene kneels in a dark room, cloaked in black so only beautiful face shows. A man with a sword stands beside her, hand out to take her mobile after she has sent on last text. I step up beside her in similar dress, only my eyes showing. I grip a similar sword. She sends the text. Her eyes close. My phone goes off, her sigh echoing the room. She looks up.
"When I say run, run!"
I turn and attack the others, allowing her escape. Once I have defeated the other men, she is long gone. But she is alive.
stop_recording?
recording_stopped
save_file?
file_saved
Sherlock opened his eyes and smiled at the last text, recalling what really happened. He laughed to himself, flipped Irene's phone in his hand.
"The woman." He said, smiling, and put the phone in the drawer.
His fingers lingered a moment. He felt like crying.
"The woman." He sighed, and stared up at the window again. He felt a flicker of sadness in his heart. He considered it a moment, but shrugged it off, walking back to his microscope.