Irene's Choice

Disclaimers: I own EVERYTHING! Even your souls! MWAHAHAAA

…..yeah right!

AN: This is an optional one-shot but do NOT read it until AFTER reading "Dance With Death" or at the very very VERY least, the final chapter of that story, '(29) Sherlock's Secret'. This is my version of what Irene did at the end; though, I'd like to see other people's ideas on that last chapter.

VERY IMPORTANT!

Turn back NOW! Final warning!

Ok...don't say I didn't warn you!

(For the—"Moriarty voice" doofuses!—that didn't listen... ...Sherlock's a vampire. Irene is human.)

Summary: Basically, optional chapter 30 of 'Dance With Death'. My version of events. Irene made her choice. Now she must confront Sherlock.

(30) Irene's Choice (optional finale to 'Dance With Death')

Irene looked back at the graves of his family.

His love or immortality.

Knowing what her choice would be, Irene headed back for the castle.

She stood in a side doorway opening into a large parlour. Several mahogany bookshelves ran along two walls. A large unlit fireplace occupied the far wall while floor to roof high windows lined the outside wall on either side of a double glass doorway leading to a covered porch. Irene waited as Jacob said goodbye to Sherlock before leaving, his family close behind. Sherrinford was with them to take them home. Not seeing John or Mary anywhere, she finally entered. Sherlock flipped himself onto the black leather lounge & stared at the ceiling a moment before switching his gaze to her. He waited silently.

Irene glanced out the windows. Beyond the porch & through several trees of every single lilac color, she could see one of the gardens in full bloom. The entire land around the castle had come alive for the summer just setting in. Colorful flowers of all sorts were set in gardens throughout the grounds while the strutting peacocks seemed more than a little put out at all the extra competition. The pastures for the Destriers were a deep green. Irene sat on another couch across from Sherlock & looked back at him.

They shared a silent gaze before Irene said. "You still love her." Sherlock's brow twitched, but he said nothing. "Over two thousand years later. She was your soul mate. She gave you three children."

Sherlock scoffed. "Didn't mean a thing in the end, did it?"

Irene hung her head a moment. "You're just like Mycroft." Sherlock glared red at her. "I mean it. He had children...but lost them to. Just like him, you blame yourself. You couldn't stop the Black Death from taking your children anymore than Mycroft couldn't un-sink Titanic to save his. It isn't your fault."

"Do you have children?"

"No."

"It was rhetorical & proves my point. What would you know?"

Irene ground her teeth. Damn emotional shields! She sighed, trying to be patient. "I'm saying I don't blame you. I don't think anyone would. You shouldn't either. What time you had with them, never forget it."

"I'll try to keep that in mind," Sherlock sulked, staring at the ceiling again.

Irene stared at the floor. A royal blue carpet runner that had gold thread woven through it passed between their seats. "More of you than you realise, lies dead in that cemetery up there. Nearly three thousand years later, I don't know what can awaken you. How to heal you. I know you keep human mates & while your intentions are good, you're only trying to relive the past. How many human mates have you stayed with & for how long?" Sherlock glared at her again. "You didn't tell me about vampires. I had to learn it from another vampire. I'm willing to bet my life that you never told any of your mates unless you were compromised like what happened with us. You'd stay with them long enough until they noticed something: you wouldn't age. Am I right?" Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Shall I continue?"

"You've shown off your braininess, as you put it, to me before," Sherlock said. "Do as you wish."

"I'm hurting you," Irene looked away.

"No you're not," Sherlock lied. Worse, he walled himself in even more. "Don't flatter yourself."

Irene ignored the taunt. "During the times you would be compromised, you'd show them what you just showed me. How many other lovers of yours stood before those graves?"

Sherlock sat up & leaned back, arms spread over the top of the couch. "Not many. I could count them on one hand. Vampires don't like exposure. We're usually careful. The only reason Micah came after me now was when he figured out where Excalibur was & how to get Enola to finish the spell. He simply didn't count on John finding the royal blade first." He sighed before snapping, "What is the point of this, Woman? Have you made your choice or no?"

"Oh I've made it," Irene affirmed. "The point is, while you may feel affection for your new mates, you can't love us like Elizabeth. You don't love me Sherlock. As much as you want to, you can't. Even though, against my job rules, I'm in love with you. You're my favorite client. Whether or not you ever used vampric charm on me doesn't matter. I've been Sherlocked from nearly the moment we first met. But...as much as you try to, bless whatever soul a vampire has, you can't give back. I'm not Elizabeth. No human you ever take will be."

Sherlock stared at the windows, watching a white peacock strut up & down the railing of the balcony around the porch outside. "Then explain last night? Any time we were together?"

"Last night was different but as to the other times, we were just friends having a good time."

Sherlock closed his eyes, resting his chin on his fingertips of folded hands. "Yet you say last night was different."

"Yes," Irene nodded. "It was two things & we must decide which of the two is correct. It was either you being affectionate while worrying if you'd lose yet another human mate. Or, if you do lose me, you were saying goodbye, just in case."

It was Sherlock's turn to grind teeth. Eyes half closed, he stared at the carpet runner. Irene could see she had stung him like one of his billions of bees buzzing outside. It was James Moriarty all over again, but this time, she was prepared for Sherlock's counter sting. He could check her pulse all he wanted. She saw Sherlock blink in slow motion. The next moment, she saw a thin wet line on the cheek facing her. Irene put her hand on her brow. What had she done? She thought of his family, all taken by the plague. No, she didn't do a thing. Just watching Sherlock relive a very dark past.

"If what you said was true," Sherlock suddenly spoke into the gloom. "Then I would never had any one else. Clearly I'm quite capable of moving on."

"No, you're not."

"Woman—"

"You're sweet, affectionate," Irene cut in. "When you want to be & you're a good lover in bed."

"I better be after more than two thousand years!"

"But it isn't the same as what you had with Elizabeth," Irene went on. Sherlock stared at her. Irene suddenly, surprisingly, sung in a soft but clear voice. "Love can touch us one time & last for a life time; that is how I know you go on & on." Sherlock's ice-blue glare flamed red. "That song describes you better than Mycroft. It fits you to a T!"

"I've never actually heard you sing," was all Sherlock said.

Irene laughed a little. "Growing up, I was a karaoke girl. I sung at parties since I was four. My parents thought I'd get into show-bizz actually."

"So how did you end up as a Dominatrix?"

"I don't like singing," Irene shrugged. "Everyone said I was good at it & that I craved attention. Which was true. I guess I sought attention elsewhere when I was older. I was 9 when I lost my virginity to a 17 year old." Sherlock rolled his eyes. "I was hooked."

"In more ways then one," Sherlock muttered under breath, very amused.

"Shut up!" Irene ordered.

"You walked into that one," Sherlock replied.

"Whatever," Irene grumbled. The silence fell between them again. She leaned forward a little. "Do you have any pictures of them? Drawn of course. Surely there were artists back then."

"Artists yes, pictures no," Sherlock shook his head. "But I remember what they looked like to this day. Esther every bit as her mother. Tall. Olive-skinned. Black hair. But she inherited my..." He put a hand on his temple. "Difference, times a hundred."

Difference. Irene knew he wasn't talking about vampirism. "Asperger's."

Sherlock nodded. "I don't think the twins had it. Or perhaps they were still too young to tell. They looked a bit like Shane & Adrian."

"You were turned just before they all died," Irene suddenly remembered. "Did the Black Death affect vampires?"

"No," Sherlock replied. "We're dead. Can't get much deader unless you strike the heart & turn us to ash."

Irene hesitated before asking, "Why didn't you turn...no wonder you blame yourself."

"That is not the reason," Sherlock defended. "While it was pure torture to watch them get sick & die, I knew it was better. Oh yes! I thought about turning them. But Elizabeth was a good Spiritual girl. This was before Christ remember? She thought vampires were of the devil. She would have tried to destroy us all. Now we know it's just another condition, like Asperger's. Nothing evil or sacred about it."

"She died first," Irene said. "She would never have known about you sparing the children."

"And what would they have done?" Sherlock scoffed. "Esther was five years, nearly still a baby. The twins, barely three. Still babies. Vampires are dead, Irene! The only dead things that grow are hair & nails. Not the entire body. Can you imagine being stuck in a baby body for millennia upon millennia? You've seen me cut my wings. You know the pain it causes. Being a vampire is worse torture than Black Death. It's immortal. At least there's an end to Black Death. That is why I did not turn them. Adrian didn't because he wasn't around. Too busy trying to chase down Micah. But even if he was around, he would have done the same thing I did. Stand by."

"You don't know that."

"Don't I?" Sherlock raised one brow at her. He stood up & walked to the fireplace. Back towards her, he put both hands on the mantel to lean on it. He stared at the one & only model the Holmes family had in any of their combined homes of the great lost ship, perched dead center atop the marble shelf. With one long slender index finger, he pulled off a line of dust-web between the front two of four bright yellow funnels. "The moment Titanic started going under & he knew she was lost, he could have turned his two girls instantly to spare them. But no, instead he waited & would have eventually put them on a lifeboat. They ended up on one but that funnel killed them. They didn't even know we were vampires. We planned on telling them later, when they were older; much older, around the same time we planned to tell them they were adopted. So no, I doubt Adrian would have cursed a child into eternally being stuck in an un-growing body." Sherlock turned & tried to stare Irene down, but she looked away. Tried though she might, she was unable to heal a wound so old. "State your choice, Woman."

Standing as well, Irene finally looked at him. "I need to know one thing before I tell you."

"And what is that my dear?" Sherlock ground out.

"Has any other had this conversation with you?" Irene asked. "Are there ex lovers out there right now, knowing you had a family?"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Wow, you must be mad at me if you didn't even bother to try that deduction of yours first before asking!" Irene put her hands on her hips. She wanted her answer. "It won't change my decision, if that's what you're worried about."

"No," Sherlock finally said. "The few that found out about me being a vampire, didn't live. One chose immortality but she was killed soon after by a hunter. The others preferred to stay with me a while, thinking they could change my mind, or my heart as they put it, & then perhaps change later. While waiting to let me know that they've actually chosen immortality all along, they grew old & died. It's been almost a thousand years since I turned someone. That should tell you how often I've been found out."

Irene rubbed her brow. Suddenly, she crossed the space between them in four quick long steps. "Well they had the right idea," She grabbed Sherlock's face & kissed him, deepening it to a French kiss. Sherlock grabbed her around the waist with one arm, twisting them both sideways for a moment. After pulling away, she went on. "But they went the wrong way about it." Irene stepped back & loosed her nearly dry hair, placing the black butterfly with sequins on its wings aside on the arm of a nearby chair. She fussed with the collar of the dress, making sure it was in place. "I hope someday you can live in the present again. But for now," She lifted her chin to the side a little, exposing her neck. "I choose immortality."

Sherlock curled his lips back, baring his fangs as he pushed them into place. "Are you sure, Woman? You know the pain of it."

"Your pain is greater."

Sherlock stared at the proffered neck. He removed his vest & shirt, tossing them to the floor behind him. His wings came out & with a snarl, he suddenly shot forward, sinking all four fangs in. He pulled in draught after draught of her blood, gorging himself on it. His wings alternated between drooping down behind him & raising above his head as he sucked in yet another drink. He could drain a body in mere seconds, but this he prolonged, savouring the moment. Drinking blood fresh from the vein of his dying victim aroused him in ways sex never could. He had forgotten the thrill of it. It was maddening.

Irene felt weaker by the moment. She was freezing as more blood was lost. No no no! He was supposed to turn her. Not kill her! Well at least, not permanently. She slid her hands up his chest to his shoulders. She wanted to push away, but her strength was all but gone. Her brain simply would not send the message to her hands to push. She felt her legs go out from under her. Sherlock grabbed her in both arms & both wings. He held her up still as she sagged back a little over his hands behind her back. Irene felt another suction as more blood went out. "Sher...Sh..." Irene gasped weakly. She had to remind him. She wanted to turn. Not die! Irene knew how dangerous it was but she didn't think Sherlock Holmes, of all people…would forget! She looked ahead at the wings. Why did he have four of them? Six? Her vision blurred to black as she felt herself lowered to the floor. He had murdered her! The next moment, she felt the constant bite change. Instead of a suction out of her vein, something came in. His venom. He did remember. At the last possible moment!

Irene thought she would pass out from the searing fire that suddenly spread from that bite into her entire body. Energy she didn't have was suddenly found & she screamed. The clamp on her neck was released. She felt his presence leave her. Pain was her only companion & it was the source of newfound strength as she arched her back off the floor. Venom flooded into her spine. Irene wanted to die! What the hell was she thinking? She couldn't even pass out.

Sherlock stepped back & picked up his shirt & vest. He got dressed, casting a look back at Irene as she fought against the poison in her system. He flipped himself onto the couch again & stared at the ceiling once more. He slipped into his Mind Palace, heedless of Irene's cries. He wasn't being cruel. There was simply nothing he could do but wait for the change. Mycroft didn't even stay with him as he changed. He had been alone. Irene at least, had Sherlock to curse at the moment she regained her composer.

Irene lapsed into silence nearly an hour later. Her eyes suddenly snapped open. Her gaze met Sherlock's looking right back at her. "Welcome back."

Irene continued to glare at him as she lay still. She tried catching a much needed breath it burned her lungs. Sherlock came to her side & crouched down. He began toying with a lock of her hair while watching her. He put a hand on her breast, feeling her uneven gasps of air. He stood up then & headed past her sight to the mantel once more. With his fingertips of both hands, Sherlock began rubbing dust off the little Titanic while waiting.

Once the model ship was polished completely, almost twenty minutes later, Sherlock went back to Irene's side. She seemed to be sleeping. Her breast rose & fell with a more even breath. Sherlock reached down & grabbed her left hand. He pulled.

Irene was suddenly awake. She tried to get up on his command but she ached all over. "I can't!"

"You must!" Sherlock pulled her up.

Irene finally stood limply in his arms. "Will it always hurt this much?"

"No, the ache will go away," Sherlock began undoing the back of Enola's dress she was wearing & let it fall to the floor. He stepped back several times, dragging Irene with her. "In the meantime, you might as well get used to the wings."

"What?" Irene gasped. He could NOT be serious!

"Cut them."

"No."

"I said," Sherlock put a point of his own wing to her heart. "Cut them. If you can't do that simple task, you have no business being a vampire."

Irene looked him in the eye. In a low voice she hissed, "I hate you!" She meant it to. How dare he grant her wish? Put her through all this pain? He was supposed to be intelligent!

"I felt that way about my brother for century upon century," Sherlock said. "I think it's instinct to hate the one that turns you. This is why, above all else, we're no longer lovers!"

"I'll prove you wrong!" Irene shot back.

"If you don't show me your wings, you won't have time."

Irene glared at him a moment longer, wondering for a moment why he was no longer a white man. He was red. She closed her eyes a moment, trying to sink the beast within deep out of her way. She had to think! She focused on her back & sensed muscles there she never knew she had. Or was it the liquid steel inside her waiting to be controlled? She pushed out.

Irene felt as if she had been thrown on The Rack. Pain literally ripped through her body. She tried gritting her teeth but somehow, her mouth suddenly felt on fire. Sherlock stepped away from her as she doubled over.

"Violet black," Sherlock mused, strutting around her, analysing her. "You have a good set of wings." He came back around to stand in front of her. Hands on knees, Irene glared up at him, hissing through thick teeth. Sherlock touched them. "Strong & sharp incisors. I think you transitioned well enough." He walked away to a cabinet beside the fireplace. "Put them away now & get dressed."

Irene snarled as she did what she was told. "Sweet Lord have mercy! That hurt!"

"Don't whine. Drink this."

Irene caught the bottle tossed to her. "It wasn't a whine. It was the damned truth!"

"Drink the entire bottle. Then I'll give you some flying lessons."

Irene scoffed & took a sip. "Hmm, I actually like this." She drank more of it.

"Of course you do," Sherlock derided. "All vampires do."

The more Irene drank the blood, the more her aches went away. She finished the bottle in moments. "Katie will be surprised at this."

"You're not going anywhere near Katie for a while until you learn self control," Sherlock said. "You'll be staying here for a few months."

"Months? Sherlock!"

"You're a vampress now," Sherlock said. "You have a few things to learn. Then you can go back. For now, you'll stay here with me."

"With you," Irene echoed. "I though once I was turned you no longer cared?"

Sherlock chewed his inner cheek for a moment. "You are still a rare friend. Like John." He turned & headed for the glass doors.

Irene sighed. As she watched him go outside, she wondered if her plan would ever work. She had to get him out of the past somehow.

Yes, she lost his love.

But she had all of eternity to win it back.

Somehow. Someday.

-Finish