A/N: Hello, darlings! Thank you for all the positive reactions to the first few chapters. I'm a little frustrated by this fic right now, I had a very clear plan for where I wanted it to go when I first started it and that has changed drastically through editing and there are a few things I wish I could rewrite in those first chapters. My point is, I'm sorry for my slow going and my questionable plotting. And floratang mentioned they wanted to see dinner – I would, but my mother enjoys hearing about the fic and I don't think I could manage to tell her about Sherlock/Irene sexytimes. Maybe I'll do a deleted scenes thing. Anyway, enjoy! xM
Sherlock woke to early-morning sunlight filtering through the cheap blinds on the window. The room still smelled like cigarettes and sex and Irene's side of the bed was cold. He bolted upright, confused, and Irene's head appeared from the closet, looking nervous.
"Going somewhere?" Sherlock asked, giving the bag in her hand a confused glance.
"I've… got to go."
He frowned. "Is this about yesterday? Because if it is, this is your flat, you should be sending me away, not vice versa."
"No, it's not that." She threw a few more things in her bag. "Yesterday, at the cinema, you asked if something was wrong, and there was, but I didn't want to think about it until I'd had you on a desk." She smiled at the memory. "There's a man who's been following me. I'm not entirely sure who he is; I haven't got close enough to recognise anyone for sure, although I can certainly think of a few possibilities. Whoever he is, I highly doubt he's doing it just for a laugh."
"And this necessitates leaving because… You haven't enough people in Brooklyn who you can convince to protect you."
"Precisely."
"And I'm not good enough?"
Irene rolled her eyes. "Not when I don't know what I'm up against."
Sherlock stood up, the sheets falling from his unclothed body. "Then you should return to England. I'd suggest staying in the anonymity of a hotel, but anyone can come and go in a hotel. You'll have to stay in my parents' cottage in the country. I suppose it's charming, they go there for vacation, and it's fairly secluded."
Irene's smirk grew as he said all of this, and he quickly yanked a sheet over his waist. "You really have changed, Mr Holmes. First you show up here for dinner and now you're inviting me to stay with you?"
Sherlock quirked an eyebrow. "You do want to figure out who is following you I assume?"
"I-"
"And am I not the person best suited for that task?"
"Sherlock. I'm hardly complaining." Irene zipped her bag shut. "Now, as much as I enjoy you ask you are, you should get dressed."
Several hours and a few phone calls later, Sherlock and Irene were aboard a plane to England. They had somehow wrangled first class despite their last minute tickets and Irene was curled in her seat, draped in a blanket, her head resting on Sherlock's shoulder – a false image of domestic bliss. Sherlock had his laptop open and was typing frantically, clicking through dozens of pages. Irene finally grew restless and sat up. She glanced at the computer screen.
"What's that?"
"Narrowing down." Sherlock murmured, closing a few more screens that, before they disappeared, showed a brief profile of some man.
"He was quite short. Certainly not above six feet."
Sherlock shut a few more windows.
"I'd say his hair-" Irene began before being interrupted by a grinning flight attendant.
"Can I get you two anything?" She asked through her teeth, hand accidentally brushing against Irene's arm.
"Red wine for me, nothing for him."
Sherlock made an amused noise but didn't look up.
Irene was hand her glass of wine and, with another blinding smile, the attendant disappeared.
"She fancied you." Sherlock said quietly, trying not to laugh. "Engaged though. Too bad, you two would have been lovely together."
She gave a derisive snort.
"Not my type."
"What is your type?"
Irene smiled. "Brainy."
He laughed. "And Kate was brainy?"
"You think I'd trust her with my schedule otherwise?"
"And I'm clever, of course. Who else?"
"You ask as if there've been so many others."
He raised an eyebrow. "And there haven't been?"
"You think my profession attracts serious relationships?"
Sherlock shrugged. "You're clever and attractive enough."
Irene laughed. "You and your compliments, Mr Holmes."
He brushed that off. "Don't you think we're a bit past formalities after last night?"
"The way you were ignoring it, I assumed it was just a one-off and we wouldn't speak of it again."
He frowned but neither confirmed nor denied this. After a moment- "You never answered my question."
"Which?"
"About your 'type'."
"What is your type?"
"I don't have one."
"Why ever not?"
He pursed his lips. "I haven't been with nearly enough people."
"And you haven't been attracted to any?"
"Very few."
"But they surely had similar characteristics?"
"Yes, but I'm not sure it's quite the same attraction you're thinking of."
"How many? People, I mean."
"Two, really. Maybe three, if we're counting school."
"Who?"
Sherlock turned back to his laptop, scrolling through pages of information.
"Me?"
He continued to ignore her and the rest of the plane ride was spent in silence.
A/N: Thank you so much for reading. I may not update for a while (I know, it took forever for just this chapter but I handwrite them during class and then we had exams and then I kept losing papers. Now I've got a million office things to handle so I'm not sure when I'll be able to update next. And I need to figure out the next plot point! Thanks to all who left reviews, you brighten my day every day.