Thanks to all who reviewed!

I should mention who Irene Adler actually is. She is a character created by Sir Doyle himself in the story A Scandal in Bohemia. She is also in the new 2009 movie portrayed by Rachel McAdams. Though, I imagine my Irene to be younger, just by a tad.

Next chapter I'll explain her back story. And maybe get Moriarty in there ;) I love him in this series, despite everyone else who doesn't like him.

Enjoy and review!

Sherlock stood at the edge of the pool, arms folded over his chest. He stared at the glistening water, frowning at his reflection. The placed had been searched and searched again, for fingerprints, for footprints, for anything.

Nothing.

Sometimes, Sherlock wonders if it was all a dream, a figment of his small imagination resulting from lack of sleep. His brilliant mind gets the better of him though, telling him to not be so silly. Of course it happened, Moriarty is out there and threatening at every turn. Sherlock sighs impatiently using his thumb and index finger to press the bridge of his nose. His eyes shut close, and he breathes in the scent of chlorine.

It was odd not having John's small voice float into his mind when he was thinking like this. He had decided to skip out for today, as Sarah was bringing him to Bath to meet her parents. Sherlock figured he might even figure out things faster without him.

Wrong.

Grumbling, he stuffs his slender hands into his jacket pocket and swiftly walks out the door.

Irene smiles as Mrs. Hudson lets her into the apartment. Her plumber disguise worked perfectly, toolbox in hand.

She sets it on the cluttered table and zips off the suit. Her ensemble slips her into the blackness of the night, and she works quickly. She shuffles through the papers, picking up certain folders and quickly skimming them.

Her eyes dance over the only common word in the mess.

Moriarty.

She silently curses, her mind racing. If Moriarty had his eyes on Sherlock, it would only be a matter of time until one of them ended up dead. She felt her pulse raise as she thought of both of them, lying dead on the floor across from each other. She swallows.

She hears the door open, and light floods her face. She freezes, slowly inching her head away from the papers and into Sherlock's dark eyes. They're alive, fire leaking out of the blue. She bites her lip, a smile creeping across her face.

"Hello Sher-" She's cut off by a growl, and she ducks the hand that reaches out for her. She turns her hand to hit his face, but it's caught by his own hand. She kicks his shin, grabbing the folder, and heading for the door. Her waist is caught, she's spun, and then pressed against the wall. He grabs her hands and pulls them over her head. She hisses, breathing hard against his lips.

They stare at each other for a few breathless moments before Irene quickly leans forward and captures his mouth with hers. They attack each other, hands exploring like a memory. It continues like this for a few minutes before she breathes.

"Bed."

He growls, nodding.

"My thoughts exactly."

They stumble towards his bedroom, and she closes the door with her foot.

John yawns, rubbing at his eyes. He takes a quick look around the apartment, dropping his duffle bag on the dusty floor. He realizes Sherlock's not in, so he walks to the fridge to check for food. A note sits on the table.

John,

Lestrade called. I shouldn't be long, so I didn't bother texting you.

SH.

P.S. Try to keep your incredibly annoying comments to yourself. I doubt Irene would appreciate the shocked expression your face will no doubt express.

John frowned, looking at the note again.

"Irene?" He whispered, confused. He heard Sherlock's door open, and soon came face to face with a blue robe clad woman he had never met. She still looked half asleep, and she cracked her neck. Her eyes seem confused for a moment, before they light up with realization.

"John Watson, I presume. Sherlock didn't tell me you would be back so early. Where's he gone, anyhow?"

John stammers.

"You're wearing Sherlock's robe." He states, glancing at her exposed legs. She rolls her eyes.

"Great observation." She pours herself a cup of coffee and sits at the table, sipping quietly. John just stares. Finally, she realizes her mistake. "Oh! Where are my manners today? Irene Adler." She holds out her hand, and John just stares.

"Have you been here all night?"

"Uh, yeah."

John falls onto the chair, his mouth open. Irene grins, expecting him to say almost anything.

"Sherlock's not…gay?"

She wasn't expecting that.

Coffee splurts out of her mouth as she laughs loudly.

"I assure you, John, he is definitely not gay." She grins, winking, and John makes some sort of strangled noise. Her laugh echoes through the room, and the only thing that is racing through John's mind is who the hell is this girl?

And how did she break down Sherlock Holmes' walls so easily?