Chapter 3
24 August 2013
John slouches in his chair asleep. Sherlock watches him for a moment or two. Suddenly, Sherlock's shoulder starts to ache in sympathy of the stiffness that John would feel if he doesn't go to bed. Sherlock rises from his chair and shakes John by his good shoulder. 'What?' John rubs his eyes.
'Go to bed John.' John peers at Sherlock. 'If you don't go to bed now your shoulder will severely ache in the morning.' John grunts but lays his paper on the coffee table. He stands, stretches and wearily makes his way upstairs yawning. Sherlock retakes his chair and watches John up the stairs. He steeples his fingers under his chin and starts thinking. His text alert goes off. He ignores it but it goes off again. He sighs heavily and digs his phone out of a pocket. He looks at the texts; I'm bored lets have dinner again… oh are you ignoring me my dear Lockie?
'It's not very nice to ignore people you know.' Sherlock plasters a smile on his face.
'I'd heard your car pull up outside. So I didn't answer knowing you would be joining me shortly. Tea?'
'Decaffeinated.' Sherlock moves to the kitchen and Irene takes a seat on the sofa. Minutes later, Sherlock hands her a cup of tea which she accepts gratefully. Sherlock resumes his seat in his chair and sips his tea. 'You've have been ignoring me Lockie.'
'I have done no such thing.' He pauses. 'And when did I give you permission to call me Lockie?'
'Oh, but it suits you down to the ground.' Sherlock tenses. Irene carefully places her teacup onto the arm of the sofa and moves behind Sherlock. She lays her hands on Sherlock's shoulders and starts to massage the muscles over his shoulder blades. Subconsciously he starts to relax and lean back into the massage. 'Don't you like Lockie?'
'I liked it as a childhood nickname. But it's Sherlock now. Only Sherlock.' Sherlock abruptly stands and steps away from his chair forcing Irene to stop the massage.
'Why? What happened?'
'Go. Please go.' Sherlock whispers as he refuses to look at Irene preferring to stare into the kitchen instead.
'Sherlock, tell me please…' Irene sounds almost desperate. Sherlock spins to face her his face hard and still.
'It was my name before my family decided that I wasn't good enough for them. Before they decided that I was a freak. When my brother abandoned me to our father's tender mercies.' Irene steps back at the poisonous words from the detective's mouth and the malevolence in his eyes.
'No.'
'What?'
'No. I won't go. I refuse to.' Irene steps around the chair closer to Sherlock. 'You need someone. Even if you won't admit it to yourself.'
'I've got John.' Irene dramatically looks around the flat.
'Then where is he? Upstairs.' She scoffs 'Yeah, that's really useful.' Irene steps closer to Sherlock. His face falls settling into a sad, lost, lonely expression. Irene wraps her arms around the man seven inches taller than her. Sherlock stands in the hug stiffly. Irene steps back as she looks up at his face surprised to see tears falling from his eyes. She tentatively reaches up and strokes the tears off his face. Suddenly he grabs her face and kisses her roughly. She pulls back and stares into his eyes. 'I've always wondered what you're sexuality is.' Sherlock sneers
'Must I have a label?
'Yes.'
'I'm bisexual.' Irene stares at him as he whispers the answer. 'I've always been drawn to both men and women. All my life.'
'And John?'
'As far as I know we're both bi.'
'Really?' Sherlock smirks.
'If I didn't know better, woman, I'd say you were sussing out the competition.' Irene smirks and pulls his face down into a deep kiss to avoid answering. Sherlock steers them around the furniture of the flat and into his bedroom.
Next morning
John walks down the stairs into the living room expecting to find Sherlock either draped over the sofa or curled up in his chair. He looks around and spots the two half-drunk cups of tea, Irene's coat and… Irene dressed in one of Sherlock's shirts standing in front of the kitchen window. 'Okay.' Irene turns to face him.
'Morning John.' She smiles a lazy smile. 'Tea?'
'Erm, please. Milk no sugar.' Irene turns back to the kettle. She indicates Sherlock's bedroom door.
'What about him?'
'Milk and two.' Irene makes up three mugs of tea, taking Sherlock's into his bedroom. She comes back out and joins John at the kitchen table. 'When did you get here?' He asks after taking several sips from his mug.
'We both walked up a flight of stairs at the same time.' John looks at her.
'So after Sherlock woke me to send me to bed.' John mused. Irene smiles sighing. John raises his eyebrows at her. 'What?'
'Are you bi?' John splutters, nearly choking on his tea.
'Am I what?'
'Only Sherlock said…'
'He said?' john tilts his head at Irene.
'That as far as he was aware the both of you were bi. But you are always saying that you aren't gay.'
'Gay implies that you only are attracted to the same gender as yourself.' Irene laughs. 'I'm not "John-Three-Continents-Watson for nothing you know.' Sherlock enters the kitchen wrapped in a bed sheet carrying his teacup. He slumps down at the table. 'Good sleep Sherlock?'
'Something like that.' Sherlock mutters into his arms. Sherlock's phone beeps earning a groan to slip through Sherlock's lips. John reaches for the phone. He opens the text scans it and pokes Sherlock's shoulder.
'Get dressed.' Sherlock looks up petulantly.
'No.'
'Fine, I'll go to the triple homicide of mum and two kids with no visible signs of forced entry or suicide.'
'It's the father.'
'He's been dead three years according to Lestrade.' Irene smirks as Sherlock's expression turns into one of interest. 'Like I said get dressed.' Sherlock eagerly darts into his room returning fully dressed minutes later. He puts his hand out for his phone just as the phone starts to ring.
'Lestrade, what's the address?' Pause. 'Right we'll be there.' Sherlock aborts the call abruptly and looks at Irene. 'You'll be gone by the time we get back won't you?'
'Are you sure you don't want a repeat?' Irene smirks back.
'You two now is not the time.' john stands. 'Irene thanks for the tea.' Sherlock strides from the kitchen and out of the flat. John listens to the door onto the street. 'If the two of you do repeat whatever happened last night make sure he eats something afterwards.' John leaves the flat to catch up with Sherlock. Irene stands and moves over to the window and watches them leave in a cab to the crime scene. She walks the length of the flat to the en suite bathroom and stands in the shower.
One hour later she emerges from Sherlock's bedroom wearing her clothes from the previous night. She picks up her phone and retrieves her coat before leaving the flat making sure the door is locked behind her. She makes her way to the street and climbs into her car waiting for her just outside the door. It pulls into the traffic and drives Irene back to her elegant home.
