Chapter four - War
Irene Adler smiled briefly before she carefully composed her expression. It was the same old (well) familiar Sherlock Holmes that sat in front of her, though they hadn't met in years, and that comforted her in a strange, but still pleasant way.
"Why did you save me?" She let the question hang in the air and smoothly avoided to answer Sherlock's quite daring statement. It is all a part of the game, she convinced herself. Irene Adler never lost without a proper fight. Or war for that matter. Sherlock hesitated but she could see a decision grow stronger and stronger in his grey and constantly observing eyes.
"It would be a shame if a clever mind as yours stopped to exist in such a… violent way." He confessed and met her amused gaze. Irene couldn't fight the smile that tugged at her lips much longer. His explanation was perfectly expected and she leaned forward in the unpretentious kitchen chair when she murmured:
"But smart people die all the time! Why me, Mr. Holmes?" Sherlock was suddenly even more careful and alert, understanding that she wanted him to take a step in the wrong direction. Or the right one suggested an optimistic and quite unfamiliar voice that sounded suspiciously like his. He patiently ignored it.
"I don't know any smart people apart from you, he spat. The expression on Sherlock's face was priceless and, much to Irene's delight, he flushed deeply.
"So you would say you know me? Though we haven't met more than a couple of times. And that, if I may remind you darling, is years ago." Irene's voice was fervent with triumph and Sherlock flinched noticeably when Irene had called him darling. She smirked confidently and found, to her great pleasure, that his body language betrayed his ice-cold cladding. Sherlock eyed her appreciatively and smiled humorlessly back. She was way better than he recalled which meant more fun! He cleared his throat to hide his sudden delight.
"Touché, Miss Adler." He simply uttered. Irene's eyes narrowed. Did he give up? Now? That was definitely not like the Sherlock Holmes she thought she knew and the disappointment was awfully devastating.
"You have forgotten something since the last time we saw each other", he said in a rush, "In the end, your sentiment betrayed you. Your pulse was elevated, your pupils dilated. After all this time, you're still hopelessly "sherlocked", aren't you? I don't ever forget, remember that." Aha. She should've seen that coming. He wasn't giving up on her, he just teased her. And truth to be told, that really turned her on.
"Touché, Mr. Holmes."
"So you're not denying it then?"
"Didn't say I wasn't."
"Yes, you're quite right. Why are you here then?"
"Every heart harbors a secret. I thought you knew that." She told Sherlock with an innocent smile. He scoffed and rolled his eyes. Why is everybody so sentimental all of a sudden? He wondered prickly and looked up, his eyes seeking Irene's.
"I have been reliably informed that I don't have one." Sherlock's voice smoldered with sarcasm.
"Pity." Irene whispered delicately and stretched her hand across the table to touch the back of his cold hand with her fingertips. "If this was the end of the world and this was the very last night, would you have dinner with me, Mr. Holmes?
"What deductions lead you to that conclusion? Or do you have any particular reason at all believing so?" He darkly murmured and his long fingers trailed gently up along her carpus. He took her pulse and she could practically feel her heart-rate accelerate. Quickly, she grasped his wrist tight as well and to her astonishment was his pulse as elevated as her own. Once more, their body language betrayed them, though at the same time it made the game far more interesting. Irene smirked, obviously pleased with herself.
"How similar we are, Mr. Holmes."
"No." He disagreed.
"How so?"
"I would never take off my clothes to impress."
"Pity." She blankly said, not letting his hand escape her fast grip. "But if this was the very last night of our existence, would you have dinner with me?" She stubbornly urged.
"I'm not hungry." He insisted as well.
"What are you then?" The question was just a faint whisper and they sat so close to each other that their tips of their noses almost touched.
"Starving." He exhaled. Irene's eyes widened and she carefully scrutinized his sudden change of expression. His eyes became hungrier and she could see the blood rush to his face before she passionately pressed her lips against his.
Irene Adler's mouth was incredible warm and he enjoyed the sensation of her soft kisses and the feeling of her breath against the surface of his skin. She pulled away, rather reluctantly, to catch her breath.
"Finally!" She exclaimed and briefly rested her forehead against his. "Can I take your order, Mr. Holmes?"
So, I've noticed that a lot of people have favorited/alerted this story (which is great) but I still haven't got so many reviews. Tell me your opinions, even if you think it's horrible I still want to know!