Standard disclaimers apply:

Any rights belong to Arthur Conan Doyle and BBC. Only my original characters belong to me.

Dear readers,

This fic was inspired by the BBC-series Sherlock. I was thinking about Doyle's books and his mentioning of Irene Adler in one short-story. And as countless others of Sherlock Holmes' fans, this was the one woman I could picture Holmes with and was thinking about a way to adopt her character into our times. I am afraid, I've gone a bit over the top, but please judge yourself – I found her characterisation in the movie 'Sherlock Holmes' from 2009 suiting, though the rest of the film was not very Sherlock 'Holmish'. I am not sure yet, how far I am taking the story, because I just can't picture Sherlock Holmes in a conventional relationship.

I am experimenting with the POV, I am trying to generate the feeling that you are in Irene's mind, I hope it will work.

Anyhow, here is the story:

CHESS

Chapter one – The white King

The mild climate was just perfect. A light breeze from the lake offered refreshment. I closed my eyes and let the sun warm my skin. Wonderful. I took a sip of the banana milkshake I had granted myself after finishing my last assignment. Peaceful. Lausanne was my city. Definitely.

The sun disappeared behind the next cloud and I opened my eyes to observe the sailing boats on Lake Geneva. Out on the Lake was a pretty hard wind, judging from the struggling little boats, just the right challenge for ambitious sailors. Yes, that was what I would be doing with my free afternoon: I would take my boat and sail across the lake. There was only a sip left of my milkshake and I waved for the waiter.

"L'addition s'il vous plaît." I had his attention and he waved back, indicating that he would bring it later.

On days like these, the bistro was chronically overcrowded. I sat with my back to the room, facing the landscape. The only reason that the other seat at my table wasn't taken yet, was that all arriving guests needed more than one seat. I emptied my milkshake and wanted to stand up as a rustle of cloth behind me and a click on the table let me stop short.

"Congratulations, that was well done." A low, chesty voice was addressing me in English. The scratching noise of a chair informed me that he took a seat.

Great. So much for a free afternoon. And peaceful. I kept my look on the lake and shrugged. "Thanks. It was a delicate job."

"You pulled it off as usual, Irene. Sophisticated."

What made him do all the way to Lausanne? It was risky for him to leave England. "What do you want, Jim?"

We were over the phase of complimenting each other and I turned around to face him and the drinks he had placed on the table. For once he wasn't disguised, he felt safe in Lausanne. His short cut black hair, his pale skin, the sunglasses and his tourist outfit made him fit into the crowd perfectly. The stereotype Englishman in Switzerland.

He had put one black tea on the table that he was about to ruin by pouring milk into it – and he had organised one water for me. My displeasure reflected on my face as I sniffed on the water. Nothing. Had recently been any drugs developed that were taste- and odourless? I decided to stay on the safe side and shoved the glass aside. He grimaced and pretended to be offended by my lack of trust. With a faked concentration on his tea he stirred it and enjoyed the first sip, his features visibly relaxing. "I've got a peculiar job for you."

As if anything about Jim had been normal. Even once. "I have a reputation to loose, Jim. It depends on the job." As he knew, I was in the convenient situation to pick my jobs and I WAS picky. His confident posture was disturbing.

"I didn't expect anything else." He said and he was honest. He recruited only the best for his errands. What did he have in store this time? I cocked an eyebrow and he continued. "It is a dare for two brothers. A golden medallion, 300 years old with a family crest engraved. It served as the betrothal gift for the oldest son of the family." He grinned smugly. "There is no chance that it will continue to serve this purpose any longer. This branch of the family is going to die out. The medallion has to be abstracted on November 21st, a reception is taking place this evening in the residence of one of the brothers. Jules has already the details."

That was a lengthy speech and bunch of information for Jim and that it was telltale. This simple job was somehow important for him, and that he paid my prize for retrieving such a small object was unusual. This was a job any of his henchmen could handle. Betrothal gift? There had to more behind it. This medallion was not what he was after, it was a decoy. Why me? "I'll have a look." Casually I asked "Anything else?"

"Believe me. You'll appreciate this one. It will be a quite..." he paused as if he was looking for the suiting expression. "entertaining experience. You may keep the medallion." The way he said it, with a sardonic grin appearing on his features was suspicious. Had it something to do with the fact that I was a woman and the target was a man? Betrothal gift? This was more than fishy.

"I am not into illegal things anymore." I took a reserved attitude.

"Irene." He leaned forward and took my hand, petting it. Alarm bells started ringing in my head. "It is a kind of a game. Manage to steal the medallion right under the brother's eyes. They will know that someone wants to steal something on this evening, but they won't be informed what and who. See it as a challenge. There will be no police involved. You are the only one I know who might be able to outwit them."

This was Jim. It was never that simple as he pretended - with him pulling the strings. "That's fishy, Jim. And what is the next step? Kill me with this necklace around my neck? Accuse this man of murdering his fiancee?"

He relaxed in his seat. "I considered this option, Irene. But the world is far more interesting with you in it."

"Great. Thanks, Jim. Seems to be my lucky day. What else?" I couldn't hold back acidness in my voice, but he wasn't touched one bit.

"If you are successful, keep them occupied for four weeks by evading them within London."

What was he planning? Why should I keep this man entertained for four weeks? A distraction for what? "Will there be any killing involved?"

He met my eyes and didn't flinch under my investigate stare, but he was a congenital liar. "No."

So far, he had never betrayed me, his errands have always been the most intriguing and he was paying well. It seemed to be easy money, I'd just have to be careful not to end as an unidentified corpse in a river with this medallion around my neck. "Salary?"

"Expenses based on your calculation, transferred directly on your British account. Fifty percent of your usual salary, plus..." he looked me deep into the eye to make sure that he had my full attention. "This will be your last job for me. I'll never contact you again."

He continued petting my hand and a cold shiver ran down my spine. Was this his way of getting rid of an old lover? I knew how cold-blooded he was first-hand. I draw from his touch and looked into his eyes. Ice-cold. There was no feeling inside them besides the need to be entertained. "I'll have a look." I promised once more.

"Thanks." There was a light dancing in his eyes that didn't please me. He thought he had me on the hook. And maybe he was right. If he was playing a game, he was enjoying it tremendously.

"Has it something to do with the recent kidnappings and bombings in London?" Since I knew of his background, I found the deepening of his smile more than unnerving. It had to do something with it.

He wiped his mouth with a serviette, he was in perfect synchron with the observation camera in the bistro. Every time it took a picture, he had ducked under the table to pick something up, drunken his tea, arranged his sunglasses, wiped his mouth, looked into the drink menu and turned around to look for someone. Not once there would be a picture of his face on the film. "Assumed that you accept, you have one week for the preparation, then contact us in London. We need to prepare your cover. Half of your salary will be on your Swiss account" he checked his mobile, "right now, the other half will be transferred after a successful completion."

Had I said 'Yes' yet? What made him so sure? And 'a successful completion' meant that he decided what was successful and what was not. Still, I nodded my agreement and took my mobile to check my bank account. Again, he pretended to be filled with indignation by my lack of trust, but I knew him better. Actually he would be disappointed if I turned into a trusting personality. He was generous. Once I had confirmed the transaction I tugged the mobile into the pocket of my short skirt, took my backpack and stood to leave. "I'll call you."

Removing his sunglasses he sized me up. "You're in good shape, Irene."

"Exercises, Jim " I jingled my key ring and pointed to my bike.

"Once you arrive, use my apartment." I stopped short and shot him a questioning glance, but there seemed to be no second thought on his side. This other man had to be quite someone that Jim considered it to be necessary to bring me into the game. I stood, leaving the untouched water behind, burrowing my way through the crowded bistro.

"Salut." I waved Matthieu who acknowledged me with a brief, hasty nod and a "Salut, Irene."

I glanced over my shoulder only to notice that our table was already taken by new guests, one sniffing on the water and tasting it. Tourists. Jim had disappeared into thin air as it was his manner.

I made my way home, thinking about London. It had been some time that I had been there and autumn was without any doubt the last season I wanted to experience in this city. There was a reason why I had chosen Lausanne as a residue – aside from the business and rational ones.

I looked for my key in my pockets and tried to turn in the keyhole. Unlocked. That meant that Jules was still here. "Salut!"

He answered from the kitchen. "Salut! I thought you would go yachting."

"I met Jim." What would point it out for Jules.

"I know. I put his documents into your study."

"Thanks. What are you preparing?" I had cautious look into the kitchen, Jules was disembowelling a fish. We would have guests, this dinner promised to be delicious. Among other things, Jules was an exceptionally gifted cook.

"Marinating the fish. Claire is coming tonight."

I looked over his shoulder, the fish was large for two. And I spotted a baguette and a salad. "Anything spare for me?"

"Sure." He turned around and kissed me, my tension wasn't unnoticed. "What did Jim want?" He asked, a concerned note in his voice.

"Jim has a job for me."

"I thought so." He must have noticed my sceptical look. "I thought you have separated and that you are not into his business any longer."

Always my caring younger brother, but I wouldn't discuss my love life with him.

"You know that there never is a true separation from Jim. But he offered an option that might be a final goodbye."

Jules cocked his eyebrows. "I can't believe it."

"It seems he finally found someone else to exercise his mind."

"Great."

"Firstly, I'll check his information."

"Secondly?"

"I'll decide if I take the job."

"He always manages to have the most intriguing ones. And his payment is more then generous." Jules pointed out while I left the kitchen.

I went to my study and started to examine Jim's documents. The first thing that I found was a new mobile, another attempt to provoke me. But knowing Jim well enough, I assumed that he had modified it so that I wouldn't be spotted. Any trace leading to me, would lead to him likewise. Great. That made my day.

Before I settled on the armchair to read all the papers, I put a bottle of water handy. It would take some time to go through all the information though one week was plenty of time. It was obvious that Jim thought that this job required a thoroughly preparation. And if Jim thought so, it was wise to follow his lead.

As I noticed, Jim had already organised a pretence to attend the reception: Colonel Sebastian Moran, he was invited and could bring his companion along. Colonel Moran was still working for the British Army, but was on Jim's payroll as well. I supposed that Jim was forking out a considerable amount to have a respectable and high-ranked British officer working for him. The little detail that Jim had had an indirect hand in the suicide of Moran's wife might be a reason why he had agreed to take part in Jim's game. Anyway, I would meet him in one week, we had to built up a sort of relationship before we attended the reception, anything else might lead to suspicions.

While skimming through the pages I felt my blood running cold. These were high classified MI-6 files about a man called Mycroft Holmes working for the Ministry of Defence. The more I read the clearer it got: I couldn't refuse this job. This was the kind of game I enjoyed playing and if Jim considered these two brothers worthy of his attention, they surely deserved mine. My wits whispered 'no', but my senses shouted 'YES!'. Jim had been right. Once more.

I wanted to stand up and fetch the box with profiles, but Jules was preempting me. "Here. Do you want another water, Irene?"

"Thanks, and yes, please."

"Claire comes in two hours." He threw a demonstrative glance over the chaos I had spread and put a timer beside me, set in one and a half hour. I nodded. There had to be no evidence lying around the time Claire would come.

I took my box with identities, there was one I had never used before and that was suiting the job. I skimmed the content and found the one I was looking for: Klara Fürwanger. German. Interior architect. An attractive woman with a high self-esteem. I looked at the picture: shortcut brown hair and I could use brown contact lenses. The clothing could be eccentric, a mix of sixties and seventies style, a creative, motley style. I would attract attention at a respectable reception. Who would expect a creative, funky and chaotic person with a crush on an old, respectable officer to steal something? It was way too obvious. Jim might fall for it, so probably these Holmes' would fall for it, too. Well, I'd have to adapt the profile a little, but it would do.

I leaned back in my armchair. So Jim had found someone who was willing to play his perfidious games. A man called Sherlock Holmes. And I was one of the pawns on Jim's chessboard. But which one? If I had some more senses left, I would have refused. But being one of of his pieces promised to be a more then thrilling adventure, one that would challenge all my instincts. Of course I couldn't refuse. Once I had gotten used to the kick of adrenaline I couldn't do without it.

And who was I to refuse an assignment by Jim Moriarty himself. There was no chance I could outwit someone like him on the long run. I couldn't help myself: I wanted to meet the person who was able to affront Jim on an equal level. To be honest to myself, I had known the second that Jim had taken seat at my table that I wouldn't refuse this job. Still, his smile had been a tad too content. I had to be cautious. In every respect.

While I collected the documents, I reached for the new mobile and sent my message. 'Got one. See you in one week.'

I hope you liked it, a comment would be great.