Things ain't like they used to be
Slipping on a pair of sunglasses purchased from the Florence market Sherlock completed his disguise as him and the woman found a relaxed pace along the river. It was a normal bustling day in the city, with all the usual energy. Except for a dangerous man walking the streets at that very minute.
Posing as a couple was an advantage for the pair at the time. Irene Adler may be alive to Sherlock and his companions but nevertheless to the rest of the world she was dead, and to many they wished that to remain so. If anyone was searching for Sherlock Holmes they would expect him alone, or at the most with his well known friend John Watson. But Sherlock Holmes with a woman? That was something that nobody would anticipate.
Last night he had decided was a mistake. For her to forgive him was the only aim, but he had taken it too far, allowing himself to indulge in those rare feelings of intimacy and his despised sentiment. He had however surprised himself in how simple these things were beginning to seem almost habitual to him, he knew that things weren't like they used to be. And he knew that it was becoming futile to attempt in a reversal of everything that had happened in just those few days of their reuniting.
A feeling of sonder alerted him to the thoughts of Irene. Did she want rid of this tangled, emotional wreak of a relationship they had seems to acquire or was she actually hoping that it strengthened between them?
'Red sky in the morning, Shepard's warning.' stated Irene watching the last of the warm shades fade away leaving the illuminated blue shade in its place. A few small clouds spread over the sky across the colour of summer. 'Yes. Indeed.' he replied turning his head upwards to watch the last of the scene himself.
Mycroft had thought this little trip of their's dangerous, and it was so; it could not be denied. Though his dear brother had failed to account that both him and Irene had faced jeopardous situations before, for instance Moriarty was probably the worst threat both had ever had; and they had survived that didn't they?
Well they may have had to fake their deaths but they were alive weren't they? And as Mycroft might say thriving under the circumstances. Moran was merely a student, he could not possible harbour the same power that his teacher had, but they could not underestimate him, he was a stranger and as he recalled from the previous diamond case, the man was not familiar to the same sort of riddles and games, preferring a much more straight forward approach which in some ways made him predictable but in others; only made him harder to beat.
Sherlock looked across the river only to spot a face he recognised. Taking the crumpled photograph from his pocket; he compared the two people before pointing the man out to Irene who agreed.
'Giovanni Romano. Moran's top spy.' Sherlock said whilst examining the picture once again, just to make sure. 'So, we need to find out why exactly he's sent his best man to Florence?'
'Exactly. We'll just have to follow him until we find what he is doing in the city.' Sherlock continued, matching the man's pace from across the river. Irene speeded up, struggling slightly behind him. 'Sherlock, dear, slow down a bit.' he did, his view remaining closely on Romano, 'We'll only look more suspicious.' Irene said.
'We don't look suspicious.' He exclaimed, his eyebrows creasing together in confusion. The last thing they wanted was to be caught red handed, and Irene seemed to know how to avoid that. He obliged; offering his arm to her with a frustrated sigh. He wouldn't admit it but he could almost feel them growing closer to each other, reliant on the other.
This was something that Sherlock had not allowed himself to do nearly ever. He felt the realisation sink in that Irene had became as familiar to him as that of John or his own brother. The difference however was their type of relationship, it was platonic (at the moment.) but clearly had the possibility to escalate not only to something sexual but some sort of committed affair which only himself and Irene could possess.
But what if Irene didn't want that? He had previously deduced her feelings for him of course but it would be comprehendible if that was to change. He highly doubted that she would ever want a devoted or faithful relationship, he suspected she would prefer a fling or short-lived romance. But who was he to fall for the understandable, stereotypical, heartless dominatrix, or ex-dominatrix should he say?
He had not asked her if she was still involved in her original profession. The thought now coming to light; it worried him to no end. Despite all which he had thought before about refusing himself anything with Irene, he immediately felt angered at the idea of her still catering to the whims of the pathetic, when she was supposed to be his. But was she really?
Sherlock would never think of Irene as something to own and be possessed, he had simply assumed that while she was attempting to seduce him she was in no relationships whatsoever which in a way, made her, his. Even if it appeared that he didn't want her.
Whatever happiness that deduction had created; soon faded. He hoped that Irene didn't think that he was using her, he would never do that, simply her intelligence meant too much to him, not to mention the protectiveness he felt over Irene. He refused to let her come to any harm. The moment in which Sherlock realised that this was so much more than a passing crush was when he decided that he would risk his life for her.
He had actually done such a thing, all those months ago in Karachi where he had saved her from impending death, which in a way was his fault, and he felt terribly guilty for it.
He found her alive, but scarred, not only literally from abuse and labour work; but emotionally too. She had denied it numerous times but he had effectively broken her heart when he left her that dreaded night at Mycroft's manor house. Sherlock may have appeared to be completely heartless at that moment, however he felt a strong responsibility to keep her from harm.
She was a strong woman who could defend herself, he wouldn't deny that, but hiding from Moriarty was a dangerous game, one which sadly she could not win by herself. So that brought him back to her. But what had brought her back to him those few days ago.
Boredom? Protection? Or simply being able to help the man who saved her life?
He suspected the latter of course yet the other two would certainly be reasons to come back to London, especially being Irene Adler.
Irene's intelligence could easily be compared to his own, meaning that a suburban lifestyle just like her's in Australia would bore her to no end. He needed action and excitement as did herself. And as for protection, he would always be there for her, and she knew that. Danger was exhilarating at times but the last thing she needed was to be caught again, plus with Mycroft knowing of her survival she could easily go back to her former identity if Sherlock wished it to be so when the crime web was gone and both of them were safe...well moderately.
'So, we're posing as a couple now are we?' Sherlock said in an amused tone. Irene laughed lightly 'A very good deduction Mr. Holmes.' she teased. He rolled his eyes and brought them to a halt as they saw Romano take a sharp turn into a alleyway.
'Irene, go and I'll meet you back at the hotel.' Sherlock said seriously. 'Are you sure Sherlock?' she asked, quite concerned, she didn't want him putting on a brave face and doing this alone, he may be a clever man but he did have a bad habit of taking some unnecessary risks, this being one of them.
She sighed loudly before speaking, 'Just be careful Sherlock.' he nodded before moving to walk across the bridge, he felt a small hand turn him around to say goodbye. 'Arrivederci.' she said after kissing him on the cheek, keeping their alias.
'Ciao.' he replied whilst quickening his pace to catch up with the spy. She smiled before turning around herself, she trusted him of course, all she needed was him to come back alive.
She looked both ways before crossing the road and making her way to find the statue of Michaelangelo's David. She might as well explore Italy while she still could.