II.

It is a couple days later when Watson comes home to see no sign of Holmes there, and immediately after entering hears a female voice calling.

"I believe you've made your point, darling, whatever this is about! Now can't you let me free so I can hurry and do several unspeakable things to you before your poor friend unknowingly joins us again?"

Getting a little afraid of what he might find, Watson follows the sound of the voice back to the bedroom. After stepping inside, he immediately stops at the sight before him, rolling his eyes up at the ceiling.

Miss Adler lies across the bed blindfolded and only meagerly covered in entirely black undergarments, an alluring ensemble of dark stockings and a satin corset and lacy bloomers evidently being enjoyed by no one while she is left bound there with each wrist tied to a bed post.

He comes around to one side of the bed and her head turns toward him as she hears him approach. With her dark wine-red lips curling in a sly smirk and her fingers curling in as if in frustration of not being able to touch, she lifts one leg up to reach him with the tip of her pointed foot, tracing it enticingly down the middle of his waist and then down farther...

Clearing his throat loudly, he grabs her foot before it lowers too far and sets it back down, and then leans over her to lift the blindfold from her face.

Sharpening to the sight of him standing over her, Irene's eyes go slightly large with surprise, and then she just grins and says pleasantly, "Oh. Hello, doctor. I might have guessed..."

Looking at one of her wrists where it is securely tied, he raises an eyebrow and then says, "Despite your less than decent attire which I'm persistently subjecting myself to the longer I stand here, I suppose the most gentlemanly thing to do in this situation is a bit obvious..."

Smiling more, she says, "Yes, it would be very kind of you..."

He smirks just vaguely as he starts to untie one of her hands. Once she is free, he leaves her to collect her clothes from where they are scattered in various places across the floor. When he goes back out of the room, he immediately sinks into a chair where he closes his eyes with a distressed sigh and leans over, rubbing at one of his temples as if suddenly getting a headache.

Then the door opens, admitting Mrs. Hudson with the afternoon tea. Watson springs quickly out of the chair and goes to her.

"Ah—Thank you so very much, I'll just take this if you please," he says as he grabs hold of the tray, an edge of nervousness unavoidably showing in his voice. "That'll be all, it isn't the best time, I'm afraid—"

"Hello, Mrs. Hudson," comes Irene's bright voice as she suddenly emerges from the other room, already completely dressed. Watson turns his face to look at her with some slight horror.

"Good day, Miss Adler," Mrs. Hudson responds naturally, forcing the tray back away from Watson, who is so distracted by his shock that he easily relinquishes it.

As she passes him to set the tray down in the center of the sitting area, he says airily, "You...are familiar with...?"

"Of course," Mrs. Hudson says, picking up the pot to pour the tea. "I've met your new client several times now. I'm not such an old woman that my memory is useless to me, doctor." Then she says directly to Irene with a gracious smile, "I made it especially strong, miss, the way you mentioned you prefer it."

Only then does Watson notice there are three tea cups on the tray she brought, and he is quite sure if he were only a marginally less self-possessed man he would be fainting right this moment.

"Thank you, how kind!" Irene says, with a remarkably natural air of sweetness and civilized manners not at all belonging to the kind of woman who earlier this day was willingly tied to a bed by her lover. It is jarring—and also somewhat fascinating, he has to admit—to see.

After Mrs. Hudson leaves, he and Irene look at each other for a silent moment.

"Well, let's not wait for him," she says with a slightly vexed sigh, casually sitting down and taking a cup. "I'm sure it'll only lead to us drinking cold tea."

"Do I even want to know the meaning of this?" he asks, resigning himself to the insanity and sitting down across from her. "I don't suppose you have any guess where he's gone off to."

"No idea," she answers. "Obviously he means to punish me just in case I've done something to deserve it, so I wouldn't expect him to be back for a while."

Watson makes as much sense of that as he can and then just sips at his tea in silence.

"I must say...you must be an honorable man, doctor," she then says with a small, thoughtful smile.

"Why do you say that?" he asks.

"Many others, if they found an undressed and blindfolded woman tied to an abandoned bed, would have taken advantage of the situation."

He swallows his next drink of tea rather loudly, his brow creasing for a second, but then just says with a dull tone as he looks back up at her, "Did I wound your vanity by failing to be tempted?"

"Not severely...Well, let us say either you're an honorable man or simply an honorable friend, anyway."

He cocks an eyebrow as if he finds something a little humorous about the suggestion. "Believe me, there is nothing honorable in being a friend of Sherlock Holmes," he says dryly.

"Nor in sleeping with him?"

He looks caught off guard only for an instant. "I wouldn't presume to know."

She gives a deep, throaty laugh. "But that isn't really what you think at all, is it?" she asks, leaning forward and looking at him piercingly.

Watson's expression remains stoic. "Surely it is none of my business."

"Oh, come now, Watson. No matter how much you may complain about working with and living with him, you clearly have more fondness and admiration for him than you ever say, or perhaps even can. It's fairly easy to see, you know."

His eyes start to look at her sharply, narrowing just a little. "I'm sure any misleading words of mine regarding the level of affection I have for my colleague are considerably less damaging than...empty expressions of devotion."

"And there it is," she says lightly, not at all unsettled by his implication. "You think I am in some way misleading him, don't you? You say it's none of your business, but nevertheless you don't trust me."

"Fine," he says easily, giving a shrug. "As long as you insist I admit it, I don't trust you with him."

"Lovely. Now that we have that out of the way, we can get along and have tea in peace, you see?"

"I...don't think I do."

"Holmes doesn't entirely trust me either, and he knows I know this. It makes everything much simpler that we're open about it rather than bothering with any pretense."

Watson just looks a little doubtful. Then he says, "As I said, it should be none of my business. Or at least I would like it not to be."

Irene's look is a little apologetic as she understands his meaning. "Yes, it's regrettable we have nowhere more private to go...But what is some inconvenience between friends? Don't you ever bring women here?"

He lets out a short laugh at the idea. "No. Not once."

"Why not?" she asks with a slightly teasing expression. "Afraid Holmes will steal them away if you let him near them?"

"Because there have been no women, and if there ever is one that will hopefully be my escape from here." The words are already out before he realizes, just fleetingly, that he has no idea how she has gotten him thinking this is any of her business, though he can't seem to stop talking as if he feels like he is on the defensive. "As for whether I should ever worry that he's the not-so-honorable kind of friend who would steal someone from me...Well, if it even matters, I suppose it's difficult to determine for certain because we've never exactly been drawn to the same woman...ever," he adds for good measure, seeming to find it more true the more he thinks about it.

Looking thoughtfully into her cup as she stirs it a moment, she says light-heartedly, "Hm. That's too bad."

In the middle of taking a drink, Watson chokes briefly as if he has gulped down too much and spills some tea on himself.