This is my first fan fiction ever posted on here! I've done a few fan fictions but I decided to post this one since my muse for Sherlock Holmes is very high, and I have formed a rather love and/or obsession for it. This is going to feature Moriarty (the smart and devious man whom I am interested in learning about and showing, in my own view of him.)
I would also like to credit a good friend, Jess! This fan fiction is based on a role-play we are doing and she makes an awesome Sherlock! While I am Irene. So, credit to my friend Jess as well!
Please review and let me know what you think =)
Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock Holmes, or any of the characters.
The cold air followed Sherlock inside 221B Baker Street as he quickly made his way inside, pulling his coat tighter upon him to keep warm from the cold air that hit him outside and on the way in. December was upon them, and the weather was cold and the clouds that hovered over the city for the passed few days didn't help. By the looks of things, Holmes guessed the clouds would share a few snow flurries here and there, but only to create puddles and nothing more.
Within a mille second of walking in, he slammed the door shut and made his way up the stairs, not bothering to reply to Mrs. Hudson's complaint about always slamming the door. When Watson moved out, Mrs. Hudson had stayed behind; something Holmes and Mrs. Hudson weren't to happy about, seeing as they didn't get along to well because of the arguing and the bit of a dislike for one another, but they lived with it, as best as they could.
Already up the first few steps of the stairs, Holmes made his way up the last part, only to come to a halt right before his door. I have a visitor. Thought Holmes closing his eyes as he took in the scent that had diffused into the building, something which he noticed when walking in but did not make much of it until he got to his door, where the scent was twice as strong. The scent he smelled was of Parisian perfume, a scent he knew very well; a scent which belonged to someone he knew.
A second more after taking in the scent, he grabbed the doorknob and turned it, slowly opening the door and stepping in, a small smirk placed on his face as he saw a woman standing at the other side of the room, staring out the window. Sherlock stared upon her figure, studying the clothes she wore. She had on a pair of nice black slacks, accompanied by a long sleeved white blouse, similar to the one she wore when they last saw each other. Over the white blouse was that same gray in the front, maroon in the back, button up vest.
Irene Adler was standing in the shadows, away from the light, and because of this, her clothes were partially hidden along with her face, as if she was hiding something. Her hand slowly moved up to grab the top of her shirt, near the collar, to lightly tug it up a bit more, as if concealing or covering up something. The shadows were a perfect place to stay should feel the need to hide anything.
"I thought it might be you; your perfume had already diffused itself throughout the building." He told her, taking off his black hat, before following with his coat. "How long have you been here? No longer than an hour if my guess is right." He added, holding his coat and hat in one arm, staring at his guest.
"You're guess is right, Sherlock." Irene replied to him, the corner of her lips curling up to create a smile.
"How nice of you to drop by, Irene." He said to her, a bit of sarcasm present in his tone. "What a coincidence that I was just in your rooms at the Grand. Apparently, the neighbors thought they heard a bit of commotion, which consisted of shouting and glass breaking. Scotland Yard sent over a uniform to investigate but he found nothing amiss." Sherlock informed her. "Perhaps the neighbor may have over-exaggerated or perhaps was drunk, maybe even a cat got in." He sarcastically guessed, following it with a light shrug. "But how fortunate of me to find you here." Sherlock finished. Irene's hotel room at the Grand was where Sherlock had been before arriving back home, mostly because he wanted to investigate the 'commotion' himself to see if he could find anything of interest.
"Ah, yes. Well, that commotion is over with. Nothing too big." She replied, pushing that subject aside.
"How long has it been? A week? Maybe two?" She asked, her eyes staring upon him.
"It's been nine and a half days to be exact. I assume those handcuffs were not of any inconvenience to you?" He assumed, seeing as she wasn't in jail and all.
"No, they were not a problem at all; what with you dropping the key down my shirt and all." She told him, the smile a bit more teasing. "And I see you've been counting the days. You must have missed me, just like I said." Irene added.
"Hm. Possibly." He calmly replied, glancing around to see if anything was different, or missing. One can't be too careful when in the presence of Miss Irene Adler; especially when one is out-smarted more than once by the famous criminal.
"I'm just glad I wasn't naked, which I have yet to apologize to you for," She told him, the smile not yet disappearing.
"Yes, I did make it rather easy for you than you did for me." He replied, a bit of regret in his voice from making it so easy, but that's how he wanted it.
"How was it, by the way? Being naked and handcuffed? Did you enjoy it?" Irene teased him, finding it a bit amusing.
"My 'adventure' with the handcuffs was a bit hard to remember. I was drugged, in case you don't remember, and it was a bit breezy if I remember correctly." Sherlock answered, not really wanting to remember that, but he knew she would've brought it up sooner or later.
"I see." She mumbled, before continuing with that subject. "I found it funny that when I got back to the hotel room, the maid complained to me about a naked man in my bed…trying to seduce her. I merely told her you tried to break in so I handcuffed you as self-defense, and she believed me." Irene told him, letting out a small laugh.
Hearing her laugh about it, he let out a small scoff. "I see. I suppose I understand the drugging and handcuffing, a bit, but I feel I have to ask," He paused before going on, "why did you feel the need, to strip me of my clothing?" He curiously asked. Something he had always wanted to know.
"Ah, that. Well, I knew you'd have a tough time escaping, being drugged and handcuffed, but I knew it'd be even tougher, and more of a challenge if I stripped you." Irene explained to him, before raising an eyebrow. "If you think I did it for 'other' purposes, you are wrong. Besides, you only gave me two choices of where to go; the train station or the police station. Neither which suited my likes." She finished answering. "I did feel bad about it, but then I remembered I kissed you before you passed out, so that should make up for it."
"Yes, well, just because we had differing opinions doesn't give you that right, and as for the kiss, I was drugged, so I don't remember much of it but it's done with, can't do anything about it now." He told her. "But I'm surprised they continue to let you stay at the Grand, what with all the trouble you seem to bring. A man breaking in; and you handcuff him to the bed. A scuffle occurs that scares the neighbors. Really Irene, it's quite rude of you." He told her, arms crossing over his chest.
"I am not causing any trouble actually. You are the one who tried, but failed, to break into my hotel room. Had you not done that, I would not have handcuffed you. As for the scuffle, they broke in. Is it my fault so many men are after me?" Irene teasingly told him, giving him a small wink.
"Yes, well as to why they are after you, there is the obvious reason of your beauty, but on the other hand could it be because you leave trouble in your wake with alarming regularity?" He replied to her.
"Trouble? You mean by my thievery and trickery? Possibly. Or maybe you aren't the only one I've handcuffed naked to a bed." Irene told him, the teasing tone remaining, but Sherlock truly was the only man she has ever done that to, and probably the only one she ever will.
"I wouldn't doubt it if I wasn't the only one, but pressing on…" He said, taking note that she still had not moved from the shadows.
"If you came here to reminisce, I'm afraid my schedule is a bit full at the moment. Perhaps another time." He suggested, walking over to the chair just a few feet away from the door, setting his hat upon it.
"Oh dear, busy schedule? I'm sure you can make a bit of time for me." Irene somewhat pleaded, being a bit sarcastic. As he placed his hat upon the chair, his eyes traveled to the side a bit, to glance at the small circular table in which he noticed had a tray on it, with a tea pot and two cups.
"Perhaps I could. You did bring tea up after all." He said, grabbing the tea pot and flipping the top open, inhaling the scent. Finding nothing wrong there, he grabbed the small teacup and examined it closely. Everything seemed fine, but he didn't want to take any chances.
"You may keep the tea to yourself. I find it a bit hard to trust when you and Mrs. Hudson are in this building together." He said, grabbing his jacket and moving to hang it on the rack that was a few feet away from the table. And with that Irene moved from out of the shadows, moving to the small table where the tea was.
"I have done nothing to it, and neither has Mrs. Hudson but fine, I'll drink some." Irene said; just to prove it was alright. She poured herself some hot fresh tea, and took a sip from out of the cup. It was then, she moved her hand up to the tip of her black Betmar hat, which was un-seeable at first due to the shadows, down to try and cover her right eye.
"But I have a feeling reminiscing isn't the reason you are here. Could it be about the altercation that occurred in your room earlier?" He curiously asked, his head tilting forward just a bit.
"Perhaps. Does it matter?" Irene quietly replied. "Are you asking because you are worried about me, Holmes?" Irene asked, going between calling him Sherlock and calling him Holmes.
"Now what should I be worrying about Irene? You said it was nothing too big, and Scotland Yard found nothing amiss, but I am not Scotland Yard. I, however, found a few things of interest. Would you like to know what I found?" He asked her, moving back to the table where she now stood.
"I suppose so. I'm sure you're just dying to tell me even if I say no." She told him with a small sigh. Watching him come over, she lightly turned the left side of her body away from Sherlock, leaving her standing somewhat sideways, with her right side in the direction of Sherlock. Obviously she was hiding something…something she didn't want him to see.
"Even though I'm sure there is no reason to worry…" But perhaps there was…