(Hello! Thak you so much for the warm reviews! As a treat, I already worked on this chapter already! Hope you like it!)

He could hear her heart beating loudly in her chest. She was afraid.

But no matter what she feels, he wanted to reassure her that it wouldn't change anything. She will always be The Woman.

"Dirty. That's the first thing you should know." Irene Adler said as they sat side by side, their hands folded over each others'. "Of course, as a dominatrix you might think that that's obvious. But it is far more... indelicate than my profession."

She looked up at him, almost searching for a sign of hesitation or dismissal. Sherlock simply nodded, asking her to go on. Irene breathed out and started again.

"My father died when I was 13 because of alcohol and drug abuse. He used to beat me and mum whenever he gets violent and all that. I was actually pleased when he passed but that's when it all got nastier." She relayed, a sad smile on her face. Sherlock's grip tightened on her hand. "You don't have to..." he said. "I want to." she simply replied.

"When I was 16, my mum started dating the landlord of our new apartment. I thought he was really nice-very much unlike my real father-but miracles don't really happen often. He started introducing other substances to my mother and everytime she's intoxicated, he would come over to our place and... Well... He would do things to me." Irene said, her teeth gritting in anger.

"I resisted everytime but he was forceful, telling me that he would drug my mother so hard it would poison her if I don't agree. I tried telling my mum to run away with me-tried to tell her about the abuse and everything wrong with our lives at the time. She never listened. Hit me even. That's when I decided to escape.

When I was 17, I met a guy at the bookshop I was working for. He was gentle and sweet... And naive as I was, I fell for him. A few days after we began dating, I gave myself to him. I thought everything was perfect until he got me alone again and wanted-well-wanted sex again. I refused, thinking that he should know what had happened to me before. I believed he would understand but he didn't. He told me that if I had done it so many times before then why would I refuse now?

I remember jamming his throat that night with my shoe. Never knew where the reflexes came from. I started lamenting my life-I wanted to end it. Upon learning about my mother's death, I realised I needed to fight back. I do not wanna die like her and my father- helpless, lost... People have weaknesses. They would do anything for pleasure and desire. Lust makes them animals. By the time I was 20, I started making my way into the world. But no other man or woman touched me. I was the one who touched them-made them feel special. That's the perk of being a dominatrix-I have control. People think that a dominatrix have casual sex from time to time. They do not understand that no intercourse happens. It's all kinks and toys. I worked my way around people, using my disgust towards their lust as a will to dominate them in this dirty game they wanted to play."

Irene felt Sherlock wipe away her tears. She didn't even realise she was crying. He brushed a loose strand off her face and leaned his forehead to hers. "Do you want me to track those imbeciles down?" He asked her gravelly. "Or I could ask Mycroft to do it. Since he loves nosing around other people's businesses after all."

"You never ask your brother for help." Irene mused, studying Sherlock's serious expression.

"There is a first time for everything." He simply replied, looking at her softly.

Irene touched the detective's face. "Well? What can you say about this lovely morning story?"

Sherlock held her hand which was on his cheek. "I never thought you could be more beautiful and brilliant. I was wrong. You beat me again, Ms. Adler."

Irene smiled and embraced him. Sherlock was always fascinated by the mystery that enveloped Irene Adler and now that he heard her story, he thought he would finally figure her out. And yet he felt her mysticism around him still. She was still barred, he thought, shielding herself up from the disdainful world. Her mind worked in such intricacy that he wondered how she came to a conclusion that instead of being weak, she used her pain to be her strength. She was a drug to him that fed his mind endless questions.

Slowly, Irene looked up at him and he felt the magnitude of his heart once more. She smiled a soft smile, one that seemed full of gratefulness and when their lips met, Sherlock could feel a burden lifting off both of them.

"So..." Irene whispered. "Where were we?"

Sherlock stared at her. "Are you sure?"

Irene nodded. "You had never taken advantage of me-ever. Funny... I never really thought a man would save me."

Sherlock smiled, kissing Irene back. His lips was warm over hers, leaning her back on the couch. He slid his arm to the crook of her legs and scooped her up, their lips still together as he carried her over to his bedroom.

Slowly, he laid her down, his body over hers, moans escaping their lips as they explored each others bodies. Impatiently, Irene reached for the top button of Sherlock's shirt and made her way to all of them. Sherlock arched his shoulders and let the shirt fall entirely to the floor, meeting Irene's smiling eyes. He dipped back to kissing her, turning to unbuttoning her shirt as he kissed her neck, his lips trailing down as each button opens. He looked up and saw Irene's head rolled back, eyes closed. He popped the button of her trousers and Irene looked at him, helping him slide it along her flawless legs.

Irene sat, pushing Sherlock down on the mattress and removed his trousers as well, both of them almost trembling as to what would happen next.

"Ms. Adl-I-Irene." Sherlock called.

Irene looked at him, as she slid off her already unclasped bra. "Y-you called me Irene. First time since we met."

Sherlock sat as well, meeting her face to face. He kissed her forehead, then her eyes. "I just wanted you to know that this-this isn't me just trying to-this isn't just about lust or desire... I don't want you thinkin-"

Irene shushed him with a kiss. "I know. I wouldn't have let you if it was."

"I... I l-," Sherlock wanted to tell her. He wanted her to know how she made her realise something. His emotions, his thoughts... He had seen this before. Watched it closely as he studied its dynamics. He looked at himself in the mirror and he bore the expressions John had when his friend thinks about Mary.

"Don't." Irene replied. "You said it was simple yet destructive, remember? And we are not simple. Destructive, maybe."

"Beyond it... Aren't we?" Sherlock asked and Irene smiled.

"Beyond anything else."