Here's the next one. Not my best chapter, if I must say. But it would do I hope. Please do bear with me. Enjoy :)


When she felt a hand on her arm, she clutched her purse tight, preparing to raise it for an attack. When she opened her eyes, she was faced with a woman, hazelnut brown hair paired with dark brown eyes.

"Irene?" the woman asked with side eyes.

Irene relaxed against the wall before she stood on her two hurting feet and smirked.

"Oh my goodness..."

The woman hugged her tightly. Irene couldn't help but smile as she returned the hug.

"I can't believe you're here. I missed you, you know." the woman said.

She pat the back of the woman. She pulled away and smiled at the woman. "I missed you too but now's not the time for this." She tilted her head to the side.

She watched as the woman's eyes sparkled with understanding. They continued to walk together. With steady hands, Irene removed her hairpins that held her do, one by one. Just as they reached the platform, the woman removed her coat and handed it to Irene.

"Being chased again, are we?" she said with a smirk on her face.

Irene took out the last pin and her hair fell waved against her back. She gave the woman a small smile before she took the coat and put it on.

"You sure you won't be cold?" Irene asked.

The woman laughed. "It's all right. My flat is just a block away from the station. Plus, it looks like you need it more than I do." She winked.

Irene smirked. The train arrived and they both got on. The carriage was full of people like always. Just as the doors were about to close, she saw the men that were chasing her, flood out into the platform. She turned her back to them and her eyes fell on the woman who was smirking, her eyes sparkling.

"Why are you here?" Irene asked.

"You're the one to ask."

That made Irene smile. She gave the woman a wink before she thanked her.

The woman crossed her arms. "You owe me."

"I know, I know." Irene waved her hand.

It was a matter of minutes before they arrived at their stop. They got off the train and walked towards the exit. When they got to the stairs, Irene took a deep breath, trying hard not to wince with every step she makes. With one last look behind her, Irene and her friend took off.

The woman's flat reminded Irene of her house in Belgravia. It was much simpler and smaller yet it was elegant all the same. As soon as she entered the flat, she quickly made her way to the sofa. She removed her shoes and massaged her bruised feet. She sighed as her feet finally had time to rest.

"Would you like something to drink?" She heard the woman called out from the small kitchen at the end of the room.

"Tea would be lovely, dear." Irene replied.

She heard cabinets opening and the clink of teacups. She groaned as she stretched her legs, her toes curling. She leaned her head back on the sofa and closed her eyes while her body rested.

When she closed her eyes, her mind shifted to the girl she had helped. 'Saved' is a bit too much. It wasn't a matter of life and death. She hoped the girl have gotten to safety. Well, she should because her feet were very sore and she was exhausted from all the running. She was going to have to find the man who must be restless at the moment. She smirked. Oh, how she missed this kind of life... no, how she missed doing these things.

Her life has nothing to do with her old profession. Her life was misbehaving. She wasn't breaking rules. She was just not happy with them so she goes over it because she wants to, because she can. She suddenly remembered his words just before he left her in the middle of Islamabad.

"Don't ever think of going back to London."

She smirked to herself at the thought of that last night. London is her home just as it is to him. You can't blame anyone for missing their homeland.

"Oi!"

She snapped her eyes open and peered to see the woman sitting on the other side of the sofa.

"Your tea is going to get cold." the woman pointed at the small cup on the table in front of them.

She licked her dry lips and reached for the cup. "Sorry..." Irene apologized.

"You steal my coat then my privacy. Now you're insulting my hospitality." the woman pouted.

"It's not my fault. You led me here. You said it was okay." Irene shrugged her shoulder and brought the cup to her lips.

"I did not!"

"Yes, you did."

"I never said anything about being okay with this!"

Irene placed the cup back on the plate and looked at the woman challengingly. "You know you did."

The woman looked away in defeat. "Fine."

Irene smiled.

"You and your mind." She heard the woman mutter.

"Why, thank you, dear."

The woman rolled her eyes. Irene took a sip. A few minutes passed, before the silence was broken. The woman stood up.

"Okay, I'm going to buy some things from the shop downstairs since you barged into my flat." The woman said, putting her coat on. "You need anything?"

Irene shook her head. "No."

"Okay, suit yourself."

Irene nodded. She took another sip while she listened to the fading footsteps of the woman from outside.

So the Late Sherlock Holmes was finally back in London. A small smile adorned her lips. She knew he wasn't dead. According to the text messages she gets from her contacts, a lot happened in the years after Sherlock Holmes was proclaimed dead. That was to her great relief because she knew he wasn't dead. She wondered how he presented himself to John Watson that he was not dead. She chuckled as she took one last sip of her tea. She may not know exactly what happened but she was sure it involved a good punch (she hopes it wasn't on his cheekbones) and a lot of curses.

She stood and went to the kitchen, rinsing the cup clean of tea. After placing the cup back in the cupboard, she leaned against the kitchen counter. How she missed the old times when she was still alive and free. Everything would have been fine and normal if she had not played the game. Except he hadn't happened.

She shook her head. She got off the counter and wandered around the flat. The kitchen was by the short corridor where the door was. Then the living room followed and another corridor leading to the bedroom and the bathroom. Just as she was making her way to the bathroom she noticed something, a purple dress inside the woman's room.

Irene frowned. No, not a dress but a gown. Simple but elegant, she could imagine it. Probably for a wedding. Gowns are too formal for business attires. She's going to have to ask her when she gets back.

Minutes later, Irene heard he sound of the door unlocking. She didn't bother to look as she was sure it was just the woman. She kept on switching channels until she went through all of them for the third time. She gave up and turned the telly off. She threw her head back on the couch.

"Not much to watch?" the woman asked from the kitchen. The sound of plastic rustling heard in the flat.

"No." Irene replied. "Any news I need to know?"

A pause. "Have you heard of the man called Richard Brooke?"

Irene lifted her head, her eyes widened. No, Moriarty was dead. She doesn't need to panic. "I've heard of him."

"Well, they say he's a fake created by some man called Jim Moriarty. After that, not much happened."

Wow, they're pretty slow, eh? Took them two years to learn that? She rested her head again on the sofa. It wasn't long until she heard the footsteps of the woman, going to her room probably.

"By the way, what's with the gown?" Irene asked with her eyes closed.

"Oh, this?"

"Yes." Irene replied assuming it was the purple dress.

"Well, a friend asked me to be her maid of honour."

"So who's the lucky best man?"

"What's his name again?"

Irene chuckled.

"Ah! Sherlock Holmes!"

Irene's eyes flew open. She sat up straight. Her mouth hung open. She wasn't imagining things, was she?

"Who did you say was the best man again, Janine?"

"Sherlock Holmes, I think that was his name."

She leaned back down on the sofa, shocked by the sudden news. If Sherlock is the best man, then the groom must be...

"Who's the lucky couple then?" Irene asked.

"John Watson and Mary Morstan."


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Thank you for reading and for the lovely comments. ;D