She is always "the woman" to him when they meet. And he's her clever man.
Always.
And they meet often. Slipping in and out of time, of eras, of screens, they weave a delicate dance. Though, never fully together.
Sometimes she's already married. Sometimes he's simply too mad to court her.
Or she dies.
The woman, the only one that matters, is forever beyond him.
But that's how it goes, isn't it? The mind of a scientist in a detective's body meets his match in an equally cunning form. How could a bond not form? A bond that will never break, no matter how many different ways the two turn up: how many crimes he's solved and how many she's committed.
Time will pass.
Books will be written. Stories told.
And Irene Adler will forever escape Sherlock Holmes.