Chapter II

"Irene Adler"

I stayed in one piece- just had fought with the niece of Inspector Lestrade. Suddenly I remembered that to me it didn't matter, because he wasn't my boss, but, for Sherlock, consequences could have been serious.

"Excuse my companion." I said to the girl, holding out my hand "We start again? From scratch: Hi, my name is John Watson, I'm a doctor and I live here in the City"

She gave me her hand, smiling.

"I know, doctor. I must say I'm a big fan of your blog."

"Are you? " I managed to say, because the whole situation seemed so ridiculous that I didn't know what to do.

"Yes ... And Mr. Holmes', I might add. However I guess I'll stop reading it since now." She looked at Holmes, resting her mouth in her hands, joined like a fist, elbows on the table. He put his arms on the surface, staring at her. To my dismay, both were in front of the other.

"My niece is a cop, and a great admirer of your technique, Sherlock," said Lestrade, dry. "I consented to this appointment only because she wanted to meet you, but won't allow it to go further. Irene, come on. We're leaving. "He started to rise, with wounded pride. The girl -because she certainly looked much younger than her age should be- stopped him with a gesture.

Thank God, at that moment the waiter arrived with the menus to ask our order.

"Don't worry, Uncle. I had a couple of questions to ask and I don't think Mr. Holmes have any objection with answer'em." explained the girl, as she read the bill of pasta.

"I won't let this man miss you more respect" said Lestrade.

"He won't, trust me. I never get offended by people who use shampoo for curls" and looked at my friend over the menu. Sherlock gave a half smile. We ordered and the waiter, a little confused, retired. Then my friend broke the silence- again.

"I see Lestrade told you about me, miss. Tell me, Irene…"

"Adler."

" ...Adler, why his uncle wants so much to brag about you?"

"Hold on!" said Lestrade, standing up "Sherlock-"

"Please, Lestrade!" complained Sherlock, getting excited "You offend me, really."

"Sherlock" I began, very nervous. I had no idea what was going on and the face of my friend didn't help me at all. I didn't know what he was trying to say but, apparently, Irene Adler did. She was calm, you can even say smiling.

"You have four pairs of shoes, at least, two gloves, hate latex, love French wine, but the Swiss cheese. Only wears cotton socks and use bitumen Woly."

I smiled- the girl was using Holmes' technique!

I turned to see his reaction, but my friend even wasn't thrilled. I got disappointed a bit, then.

"I'm flattered that you try to follow the methods, my dear, but all this is rather superficial." and Holmes made a gesture to give emphasis to his attempt to kindness. Lestrade glanced at his niece.

"I know," she said. "Have only one brother, you had a cat as a child, because don't like dogs. Roasted bird lover, hate shirts and deodorant stick. Ya grew up in a rural area but prefer the city, obviously. Love to play Scrabble and" she went slowly at this point "you-are-an-expert on the Bridge. Somewhat neglected with your personal hygiene but keep compulsively clean your hands with alcohol gel with moisturizer. No smoker, don't drink, but consume lots of nicotine-" here, the girl turned to me for a moment, and returned to Holmes next "So you use patches."

Holmes smiled. His eyes shone with that characteristic flash of when he found something which excited his curiosity.

"Ha! " interrupted Lestrade, proud of his niece" She's good or what? What do you think about her, Sherlock? I told you were gonna love her! She's amazing! Maybe even better than you-"

The Inspector's boast immediately changed the attitude of my friend. His face darkened and I had the bad feeling the girl was going to pay it. I looked at her a moment, with more pity than anything else, and I was about to stop Sherlock for he wasn't cruel, has he use to. She just inspired my sympathy.

"That's all very well, miss," Holmes said, turning his head toward me and opening his eyes to calm me down "but there are one or two points that are incorrect- I don't hate latex, it bothers me; I don't clean compulsively my hands, it's just to keep clean any possible thing which shall be kept clean; and, certainly, I don't play board games, much less Scrabble. Can't figure out how possible you thought I 'love' it." made a gesture with his hands and laughed at the observation "However," he added "it's been interesting."

"You simply don't know it" objected the girl, calmly. Sherlock smiled.

"Pardon me, what?"

"You don't know y'love the game 'cuz you'ven't played it" Irene said, crossing her arms.

"Really? " laughed Holmes.

"Yup. Try it and you'll see."

Lestrade and I seemed to be in the Wimbledon Open, looking at who his turn was, both very intrigued by what was happening; mainly I did because I had no idea what was going on there, and the Inspector did because he was counting every point of his niece as a huge win over the man he hated to ask for help.

"That was great." I ventured to say, smiling at Ms. Adler "That explains, then, why you called me 'doctor' when we just met" I added, remembering that small detail I had forgotten.

"Obviously." interrupted Sherlock.

"Don't take care," I said the girl "he usually is like this when a case needs to be solved."

Sherlock looked offended at me. I knew I was forcing him to speak but didn't know what else to do. At that time, the food arrived. Relieved, we took account of the dinner, 'till Irene broke the silence- again.

"By the way, Mr. Holmes-" said she.

"Sherlock, please." he muttered, annoyed.

"Sherlock, then. Haven't used my computer for several hours so, what about the case? It's solved? Excellent! And the culprit was- that Hardy guy? Yeah, I figured it- He was betrayed by his mole, wasn't he? Yeah, curious case, isn't it?"

I was surprised at the fact that Sherlock respond to all the questioning only using his eyes, while he was calmly drinking the soup. It surprised me even more that Irene could read the meaning of every answer in the eyes of my friend, who seemed not to give much importance to the obvious talented girl. I was angry with him for that stupid indifference, so I began to seek explanations from the girl about what she did to discover what she said before, about Sherlock. Irene just laughed.

"You'll know it, by one way or another. For now, give full attention to your plate, doctor."

"John, please." said I. Lestrade raised an eyebrow, and I tried to avoid being familiarity since then "So, tell me, Miss Adler, what are you doing in London?"

"Work." Sherlock said, coughing a potato.

"Exactly" agreed the girl ", and as Mr. Holmes will say, working for Scotland Yard. New and entering! Recruited by my uncle, of course. I'm under his orders and to serve this country." We smiled. She seemed much more pleasant than my friend, even having the same talents, they both.

Her uncle showed him very proud of her for the little time we stayed at the place, and kept glancing, scrutinizing Holmes all the night too; to see what attitude he took about everything. But Sherlock just hurried me to leave because he was tired and had forgotten his keys and wanted to regain strength soon.

"I don't think Ms. Hudson will be glad for opening me the door again" he said so.

I finished my dinner and then said goodbye to Irene Adler and the Inspector, thanking the food and apologizing myself for any misunderstanding, while Sherlock only hold a cab. I wished Irene luck in her new job and we went out from there.

I couldn't stop thinking about the wonderful girl we just had met. She looked slim indeed, as Sherlock said. Her sunken cheeks, certainly due to poor diet, recalled the long face of my friend, who was looking out the window of the cab. She, actually, had brown eyes and hair too. That night she was disheveled, with a sloppy ponytail, and her clothes were as awkward as the bag that started it all. And while she had been wearing a jacket larger than it should've been, you could see she was athletic. I remembered her comment about my nose, and thought about hers- Quite nice, I must say, but you felt it had been broken at least once. With white teeth and thin-lipped smile, she was the owner of the kind of smile that causes a good impression on people. Perhaps that was why I felt comfortable with her- or maybe it was just the too much "Sherlock" I had driven up to a week ago.

"Did you notice her hands, John?" said, suddenly, Sherlock.

"Pardon?"

"Her hands, John. Miss Adler's hands. Agent Adler, we shall say."

"No, I didn't notice. What about them?"

"Scars, John. That's what happens to them. Dog bites."

"I'm surprised you told her nothing about that a moment ago. You were in a terrible mood."

"Always am, especially when someone tries to downgrade my profession, you know. You can say to me anything but my work- is untouchable." he leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes, clasping both hands.

" Well? How about her?" I asked, still annoyed "You meet a sort of fan and treat her like Thursday's trash."

"She didn't want to see me, don't be fooled! "he yelled, angrily "His uncle wanted to brag. In addition, she hasn't done anything outstanding, to be honest. I believe that many details were just mere fluke."

"Do you think? Didn't you know? How so?"

Holmes opened his eyes at me.

"Gotta admit that, John- she has a fairly wide threshold."

"A threshold?"

"Yes, a reading threshold. Everyone is "legible", "analyzable", however you wanna see it, in different sizes. Most of what you see circulating on the street doesn't own or a small corridor rather than a threshold, but she… She has one, which makes her interesting."

"I see" I said ". And all she said? Mean, about you."

"Except the Scrabble stuff she was quite precise, but still doesn't know how to interpret certain things. I'm an open book when I want, John, usually I'm, if you know how to observe properly, but it was hard for her."

"What intrigues me is the thing about your brother. She said just one, how she knew? In my-"

"Cheap-Psychology, John. I have all the earmarks of an alone younger brother."

"Do you?"

"As I said," he looked at me and smiled" I'm an open book."

Then he sat most comfortable in his seat, closed his eyes again, and refused to say more until we got to 221B Baker Street, and locked himself in his room to sleep.

N / A: Hello there. Don't know how long or boring was this chap, but I think it was necessary. Reviews, comments and suggestions always are welcomed, thanks and God bless you!