Chapter 4

'Finally! I've been calling you a hundred times, where the hell have you been?!' the Hungarian detective shouted at Sherlock who was slowly approaching his team waiting outside the building.

'Busy, what's going on?'

'Well, we've found the fourth body and...'

'Yes, I know, I've heard your messages'

'Oh, okay. Also, there's this woman... she says she knows you' the detective inspector pointed at couple of men, but Sherlock couldn't see any woman among them.

'What woman?'

'She doesn't want to tell us her name, but she says she knows you' after one of the man moved out of Sherlock's sight, the detective saw the slim figure of brown-haired woman, who then turned around and smiled at him like it was completely normal that they were meeting next to the crime scene 'Do you know her?'

'No.' Sherlock answered and headed towards Irene. He clinched his fist around her wrist and dragged her away from police officers, who apparently were quite impressed with her presence.

'I knew you'd be pleased to see me' she whispered just before they stopped round the corner so no one could see them. Sherlock pushed her away a little too hard and eventually she gently hit the wall of the building behind her. That apparently didn't bother her at all, as she just smiled even more.

'What are you doing here' Sherlock snapped at her and moved closer to the woman.

'I thought you could use some help since there was the fourth body...'

'I asked you to stay away from the case' he shouted and hit the wall right next to her face. Irene seemed surprised with his sudden change of mood, as she'd never had the opportunity to see him angry before. He, on the other hand, had no idea why all of this made him so mad. He wasn't good at dealing with things that were unknown to him and her presence, the fact that they'd slept together last night and that he still didn't know how he felt about her made him build a self-defensive shield, that this time occurred as anger and violence towards the woman, who might have only suspected the reason behind his behaviour.

'No, you didn't ask me anything. You told me not to follow you. Did you really expect me to listen to you?' she wasn't going to play the victim there, as she was sure that she could have some control over him. She didn't have to do much, her presence itself made him act differently and she could notice that when he squeezed her wrist painfully and pushed her towards the wall.

'What do you want from me?' Sherlock leaned in closer to Irene, looking straight into her eyes. He seemed mad and he also felt that way. Not only because she had this influence on him, but also because he didn't know how to control himself. He'd never felt so many things and when he looked at her, Sherlock had an impression like all those emotions culminated inside his mind, like they were about to explode and destroy everything around. Holmes wanted her to disappear from his life so, once again, he could be himself, the detective that everyone knew for his greatness. Not the mad man letting his feelings take over his brain.

'Think' the woman answered and pushed him away, walking back towards the crime scene.

'Where do you think you're going?'

'We have a mysterious crime to solve, Mr Holmes. No time to waste' she didn't stop and didn't turned around to look at him, knowing he would follow her anyway.

'No, we're not doing this' hearing his voice Irene sighed and turned towards him. She made a few steps closer to the man and gently brushed his cheek with her warm, delicate hand.

'Don't fight me, Sherlock. Cooperate. It turned out great last night, don't you think?' last few words she whispered into his ear with a wide smile on her lips. He could feel her warm breath on his skin and the smell of her perfume tickling his nose. Sherlock breathed in deeply, feeling somehow helpless in the face of her specific charm and he just couldn't help himself. But maybe, after all, it wasn't such a bad idea? Maybe she was manipulative, but she was also clever and intelligent and without a doubt she could, in some way, help him close this case and get rid of his frustration.

'Fine, but keep the distance from the body, be quiet and don't try to show off' Sherlock agreed with an annoyed voice.

'Good boy' Irene softly pecked his cheek with her lips and then walked away towards the crime scene. The detective sighed and not having any other choice followed her.

'What is going on, Mr Hegedűs? We've been waiting for you, there's been another murder, do you think it's appropriate to disappear so suddenly?' the DI shouted in Hungarian at Sherlock, who simply ignored him, heading straight to the flat of another victim 'And who is this woman? She's not allowed to be here, Mr Hegedűs!' the man was clearly angry at Sherlock, but the detective didn't seem to care.

'She's with me' he answered, climbing the stairs with Irene Adler following his steps.

'She can't be here! She's not...'

'Oh could you just shut up? I told you, she's with me. I'm not supposed to be here either and I highly doubt your supervisor knows I'm helping you, but here I am, doing your job because you and your stupid people can't handle something as simple as some murders! So just shut up and leave us alone!' Sherlock shouted at the detective, losing his temper over so limited brains of ordinary people. Sometimes he missed Lestrade to whom he'd gotten used to over the years of working with Scotland Yard. These people were driving him crazy even more than Irene was, but that feeling was familiar and completely natural for Sherlock Holmes. The Hungarian detective seemed offended, but said nothing. He waved at some people standing over the body of young female with a knife in her chest. The door closed behind them and Sherlock and Irene were left alone in a room with a fourth victim of a mysterious murderer.

'Mr Hegedűs?' she commented after a second of silence with a mocking voice, trying not to laugh. Sherlock looked at her from the floor, where he was examining the body.

'I'm undercover, news travels fast' he mumbled and got back to the victim. After a few minutes he stood up from the floor and looked at the woman expectantly, raising his eyebrows.

'What?'

'You wanted to get involved, this is your chance. Tell me what do you see, show me you're worth it' his voice, once again, was cold and very calm, nothing like the one he'd used before to shout at her or at the police officer. With his arms crossed, he moved a step back and observed her patiently.

'Well, she's probably around 30. Her make-up is pretty careless, which means that she's either been in hurry or she doesn't have much experience with it. I think the last one, since the colour of her foundation doesn't really match her real skin tone. She's not really affluent, although she tried to dress up in cheap clothes which were meant to resemble the high-end brands, so maybe she knew the murderer personally and was looking forward to meeting him, as she dressed up like this especially for him. Definitely not married, her fingers don't show any signs of a wedding ring. Her hands are quite neglected, so she may have been working as some kind of a physical worker, maybe a kitchen assistant or factory worker. On her inner thighs you can see some scars, she was cutting herself so evidently she had some personal problems, but she didn't cut her wrists, because there would be possibility of someone else seeing it and asking unnecessary questions. For me, she looks exactly like the person who would get involved in some kind of a sect' Irene stood up from the body and looked at Sherlock, awaiting his response.

'Pretty good' he said, trying not to show how impressed he really was. She was better than he expected her to be, but she still wasn't as good as he was, and that made him feel a little bit more comfortable.

'Pretty? What else would you expect me to say about this woman?' Irene seemed surprised by his response, she was amazing, she said everything and no other, ordinary person, would ever say anything more.

'Well, you missed one obvious thing' Sherlock stepped forward from the wall and kneeled down next to the body 'Her clothes are slightly ripped in some places. That didn't happen with previous victims, so she might have been fighting with her killer. What is more, if you look closely, there are small spots of blood on her teeth, but it's definitely not her blood as her lips don't look like they've been bleeding, so she probably bit the guy. When we were walking up there was also blood on the stairs. He would never bleed from a small bite, but maybe she'd managed to injure him more than that before he killed her...' the detective laid down on the floor and looked under the fridge and cupboards. The woman was watching him carefully, evidently interested and curious about what he was looking for 'Ha! There it is!' he shouted in excitement and took the napkin out of his coat's pocket. Then he stood up and showed Irene a small knife with some blood on it 'We've got something that distinguishes this murder form others and that, Ms Adler, is what I've been waiting for!' Irene smiled and moved closer to the man. She lift her chin and looked him in the eyes.

'I still mean what I said last time, Mr Holmes' she moved her sight to the wooden desk in the next room, and then back at the detective.

'Not now' he answered and opened the door to the flat to let the Hungarian detective in.

'He's wounded with a knife. Look in the nearest hospitals, if you don't find him, check the airport cameras from the day all the victims arrived to Budapest, someone must have picked them up. Either way, you'll find him soon'

'How... how can you be so sure, Mr Hegedűs?' the man looked at Sherlock, or rather at his back, as the detective was already walking down the stairs.

'I just am' he answered without stopping and turning to look at him. He left the building and headed towards the main street. After a few steps he stopped and turned around to face Irene Adler following him in silence 'Are you hungry?' Sherlock asked and looked at his watch. It was already 4 pm and he hadn't eaten anything since last night, as this morning he'd left without any breakfast.

'What?' Irene honestly didn't expect Sherlock to ask her this question, so she seemed surprised when he did.

'Oh come on, stop being so impressed every time I do something different than being myself. I asked if you were hungry, because I'm starving and we could go for a dinner together. So are you, or are you not, because I'm not going to waste any more time on you'

'Are you trying to ask me out for a date, Mr Holmes?'

'If I didn't know you better, I'd think you're really stupid. But, unfortunately, you're not. No, I'm not asking you for a date, I'm asking you if you want to go for a dinner, like normal, ordinary people who are not a couple do' he was really irritated with her behaviour, as he asked her a simple question and, apparently, she couldn't just answer it, without mocking him and trying to make him uncomfortable.

'But we are not ordinary people' Irene smiled and crossed the arms on her chest. The detective only sighed loudly and turned around to walk away from her, not having enough patience to talk to her anymore. He was afraid he might lose his temper again, but at the same time he really wanted to get used to being near her without feeling unconscious and afraid of his own, now unpredictable, nature 'Where are you going, I thought we were going for a dinner?' she followed him until they drew level and she was walking next to him.

'Make up your mind, then' Sherlock answered and waved to stop a cab, without looking at the woman.

'What kind of name is Hegedűs anyway?' Irene asked looking at him over the plate and the glass of wine. They were sitting in a luxurious and probably quite expensive restaurant, that now was full of businessmen having their business dinners or simply enjoying their break from work in one of the glass skyscrapers in the modern, business district of Budapest.

'Hungarian' Sherlock tried not to stare at Irene Adler too often and for a long period of time, but honestly he just couldn't take his eyes off her. There was something in her majestic movements, the way she spoke, in her red lips stretching in a gentle smile from time to time, in her clever, blue eyes, which colour reminded him of the blue ocean or a sky in a clear day. He'd never paid any attention to things like that, but with Irene Adler everything seemed different. Today she'd impressed him with her observatory skills. It felt great knowing he had there someone who was almost equal to him and who actually was able to follow his thoughts, without him having to explain everything. With John it'd always been annoying, but Irene either completely understood him or was too proud to ask. Either way, Sherlock appreciated this and he certainly noticed that she'd changed since their first meeting back in London.

'You know they probably know you're not Hungarian, since you're using your English with quite a sharp accent?'

'I told them my father was Hungarian and that I was raised in England' Sherlock said and when Irene laughed, he smiled gently and took a sip of his wine 'It also means violinist' he added after a second.

'Really? I see nothing is ever a coincidence with you, Mr Holmes'

'Never'

'So, do you speak Hungarian?' Irene asked after the waiter came with a main dish. She must have admitted, it was quite nice to sit with Sherlock by the same table and talk, just like normal people did. About regular things, but at the same time looking at him the way she'd never looked at anyone and feeling some specific tension between the two of them. With every passing second she felt more relaxed, more comfortable, more safe, when she was with him. Of course, she was used to being alone and dealing with her problems on her own, but sometimes it was just too much, even for her, and his presence made her stop worrying about some things, as she certainly had a lot to worry about.

'Yes, I'd learned some before I came to Budapest'

'So why aren't you using it instead of English?'

'I don't have the proper accent and I don't like using languages when I don't sound as good as a native speaker' the woman raised her eyebrows. She would have never expected Sherlock to be such a perfectionist. She expected him to be able to learn a language in a couple of hours, but the fact that he didn't bother to use it was quite surprising.

'Tell me something, I want to hear it' Sherlock sighed and raised his hand to call the waiter.

'Kaphatok egy üveg pezsgőt, kérem?' waiter answered something back and disappeared, to come back after a minute with a bottle of champagne and two glasses. Sherlock thanked him and opened the bottle to fill the glasses with a light, golden liquid.

'What are we celebrating?' Irene was impressed, because he sounded just as the native speaker, or at least she couldn't find any difference, but she wasn't going to tell him that. Instead she just took the glass from him and raised it to toast, whatever they were toasting for.

'We're not celebrating anything' he drunk the champagne, leaving her slightly disappointed. She didn't know what answer she expected, but definitely any other than this one. After a couple of minutes of silence, Sherlock finally called the waiter and paid for their dinner, ready to leave the restaurant.