Chapter Nine: Meeting the woman


A few weeks later,


"Easy!" I say as Sherlock and John trot up the stairs with groceries. "Done some shopping I see."

"Yes." Sherlock hands me a bag as he reaches into his pocket for his key. "Come on."

I roll my eyes and follow. "So, how are things going these days?"

"Very well." He stops abruptly and studies me. "Are you doing anything tonight?"

I shake my head. "No. why?"

"Oh, we're going out tonight."

I tilt my head. "We are?"

He nods. "Yes."

I shrug. "Ok, but a lady likes to be asked."

"Don't see why I should, Sherlock moves off towards his bedroom. "you never have any plans after your shows anyway."

I roll my eyes at John. "He's funny."

"Hysterical." John says sarcastically. "I still don't understand why you put up with him."

"Oh, John," I smile brightly. "you know very well why I do."

"We have a client." Sherlock says bluntly.

"What," John asks. "in your bedroom?"

I pause from where I'm putting the groceries away. "What? Surely not."

I follow John to where Sherlock is standing in the doorway of his bedroom. I peer around his shoulder to see exactly what I did not expect to see. Irene Adler, sound asleep in Sherlock's bed. I look at Sherlock, he doesn't acknowledge my existence. I swiftly turn and I walk briskly up the stairs. Sherlock doesn't follow me, nor do I expect him to follow me, but my stupid heart wanted him to.


Its late afternoon when I emerge from my flat to go down and decide to go take a walk. "Tammy?" Sherlock calls from his flat as I begin to descend. "Come in here for a moment."

"I'm busy."

"The walk can wait. Come here."

I groan and stomp over to the flat and push the door open. The sight that greets my eyes causes me to pause in the doorway. Irene is wearing one of Sherlock's dressing gowns and is sitting in his chair. She looks at me, studying me with a catlike eye. "So," her voice came out as a seductive purr. "this is your mystery girl." She stands up and approaches me with a smirk. She was really much more attractive in real life than in photos. "So Tam, do you spell your named with an 'I' or 'Y'? I'm really curious."

"It's a 'Y' Irene." I stated. "Just as there are two 'D's in Adder." Irene was a snake and definitely as poisonous as an adder. Coincidence that adder and Adler were similar? I think not.

She laughed. "She's got a witty tongue."

"Indeed." Sherlock stands up, studying the two of us. "You've no idea."

"You could be so much more attractive if you did your makeup properly. Your eyes are your good, but you don't emphasize them." Irene boldly reached out and rubbed her hand down my cheek. "Fine cheekbones though." Sherlock steps towards her at the same time I brought my hand up and slapped her face. Irene didn't cry out, she simply smiled at me. "Well, the rabbit does have a bit of fire after all."

Sherlock took my hand and moved me away from Irene. "Keep your claws off her Irene. She's all ready threatened to turn you into one of the Hulk's creations a few times. Tammy is straight."

"So many women have told me that." She continued looking at me as if I was a mouse and she was a cat. "But I always prove so many of them wrong."

"You're…disgusting." I spit at her.

"So," Sherlock says conversationally. "who's after you?"

"People who want to kill me."

"Who's that?"

"Killers."

John says. "It would help if you were a tiny bit more specific."

"Would angry wives," I ask. "be part of that mob?"

"So you faked your own death," Sherlock summarized. "in order to get ahead of them."

Irene focuses on Sherlock. "It worked for a while."

"Except you let John know that you were alive, and therefore me."

Irene holds eye contact with him. "I knew you'd keep my secret."

"You couldn't."

"But you did, didn't you?" Irene purrs. "Where's my camera phone?"

"It's not here." John says. "We're not stupid."

"Aren't we?" I mutter.

"Sit down." Sherlock whispers. "Everything's fine."

"Then what have you done with it?" Irene asks. "If they've guessed you've got it, they'll be watching you."

"If they've been watching me," Sherlock points out. "they'll know that I took a safety deposit box at a bank on the Strand a few months ago."

"I need it."

"Well, we can't just go and get it, can we?"

John looks at me and I shake my head. "No way."

"Molly Hooper." John suggests. "She could collect it, take it to Bart's; then one of your homeless network could bring it here, leave it in the café, and one of the boys downstairs could bring it up the back.

Sherlock smiles. "Very good, John. Excellent plan, with intelligent precautions."

John puffs up slightly, "Thank you."

I glower at Sherlock. "But it won't work because...

Sherlock smiles as he takes Irene's camera phone out of his jacket pocket. Irene stands up and walks towards him. "So what do you keep on here," he holds the phone out of her reach. "in general, I mean?"

"Pictures, information," Irene shrugs carelessly. "anything I might find useful."

"What for?" John asks. "Blackmail?"

"For protection."

I roll my eyes. "I believe they take care of that for you at any pharmacy."

Irene smiles at me. "I make my way in the world; I misbehave. I like to know people will be on my side exactly when I need them to be."

"So," Sherlock says quickly. "how do you acquire this information?"

"I told you," Irene points out. "I misbehave."

"But you've acquired something that's more danger than protection." Sherlock is going into his deduction mode. "Do you know what it is?"

"Yes, but I don't understand it."

"I assumed, show me." Irene holds out her hand for the phone. Sherlock still holds it out of her reach. "The passcode."

She continues to hold her hand out, and Sherlock sits forward and hands her the phone. I sit back as Irene types in the four characters for the passcode. Sherlock has a very anxious look on his face. The phone lets out an irritated beep. "It's not working."

Sherlock stands up and taking the phone from her. "No, because it's a duplicate that I had made, into which you've just entered the numbers 1058." He walks over to his chair and retrieves her real phone from under the cushion. "I assumed you'd choose something more specific than that but, um, thanks anyway."

He looks at her smugly as he types in the code. The phone lets out an angry beep. Sherlock stares at it in disbelief. I shrug. "Why am I not surprised?"

"I told you that camera phone was my life." Irene simpers. "I know when it's in my hand."

"Oh," Sherlock breathes out. "you're rather good."

Irene smiles at him. "You're not so bad."

She holds her hand out again and takes the phone from him. John and I frown at the pair of them as they have intense eye contact for the next few seconds. I jump up just as John blurts out abruptly. "Hamish." They both turn to look at him. "John Hamish Watson, just if you were looking for baby names."

Sherlock frowns in confusion. I bite my tongue hard and bite out. "To business, now, boys?"

Sherlock glances at me. "Something the matter?"

"No. I've got things to do and I have no idea why I'm here!" I snap and turn to Irene. "You were saying?"

Her brows arch in amusement. "There was a man, an MOD official. I knew what he liked." She turns her back so they can't see her screen or keypad as she types in her real passcode. "One of the things he liked was showing off. He told me this email was going to save the world. He didn't know it, but I photographed it." She hands the phone to Sherlock. "He was a bit tied up at the time. It's a bit small on that screen, can you read it?

Sherlock sits down, studying the picture carefully. "Yes."

"A code, obviously. I had one of the best cryptographers in the country take a look at it, though he was mostly upside down, as I recall. Couldn't figure it out." Sherlock remains concentrating on the screen. "What can you do, Mr. Holmes?" She leans over his shoulder and I tense up. "Go on. Impress a girl."

Irene leans in and kissed Sherlock's cheek. I bite my lip as utter jealousy surges in my veins and I try to keep it under control as Sherlock begins speaking rapidly. "There's a margin for error but I'm pretty sure there's a 747 leaving Heathrow tomorrow at 6:30 in the evening for Baltimore. Apparently it's going to save the world. Not sure how that can be true but give me a moment; I've only been on the case for eight seconds." He looks up at John then glances at Irene. "Oh, come on. It's not code. These are seat allocations on a passenger jet. Look: there's no letter 'I' because it can be mistaken for a '1'; no letters past 'K,' the width of the plane is the limit. The numbers always appear randomly and not in sequence but the letters have little runs of sequence all over the place, families and couples sitting together. Only a Jumbo is wide enough to need the letter 'K' or rows past fifty-five, which is why there's always an upstairs. There's a row thirteen, which eliminates the more superstitious airlines. Then there's the style of the flight number, 070, that eliminates a few more. And assuming a British point of origin, which would be logical considering the original source of the information and assuming from the increased pressure on you lately that the crisis is imminent. The only flight that matches all the criteria and departs within the week is the 6:30 to Baltimore tomorrow evening from Heathrow Airport."

I shake my head and exhale. "Wow….impressive."

But Sherlock is looking at Irene, who gazes up at him in admiration. "Please don't feel obliged to tell me that was remarkable or amazing. John's expressed the same thought in every possible variant available to the English language."

Irene's voice is intense. "I would have you right here on this desk until you begged for mercy twice."

I can't stand it anymore. I jump up and stomp towards the door, after spitting at Irene. The spit landing in the back of her head. Sherlock catches ahold of my arm. "What has gotten into you?"

"Into me?!" I shriek. "What's gotten into you?!"

"I'm not the one spitting at clients." I wrench free from his grasp and throw myself towards the door. "Tammy?" Sherlock calls. "Wait a minute!" I slam the door and run down the steps. "Tammy?"

"Leave me alone!" I shout. "Just leave me alone!"

"Don't run down the steps! You're wearing heels and you could fall!"

I can't stand this any longer. I head straight out the front door to see Mrs. Hudson coming out of a taxi. I jump in and order the driver to take off without declaring a destination. I exhale and look behind me to see Sherlock come charging down the steps after me. I hold my breath as we lock eyes. I see the hurt in his eyes, but I do not think that it mirrors the hurt in my eyes. Nor can it even come close to matching the hurt in my soul.