A/N: The disappearances grow longer and longer. Sorry, this was a combination of college stuff (I got accepted to an honors college with a very nice scholarship, and a safety school ^^) and some family issues. My little sister spent 4 days in a hospital for brain MRIs and then my dad spent 5 days in a hospital in another county (re-read that, not country!) for a triple bipass. So I've been a little...frazzled. But now things are looking up and I hope to start updating frequently again :3 Please enjoy!

Title: Irene Adler
Category: Movieverse
Rating: T
Warnings: Some serious Irene Adler-bashing, though it's from Watson's perspective. Also, spoilers to Scandal in Bohemia for those reading the canon, so if you want to skip this until you've after you've read it, be my guest :)

Post Hoc, Ergo Propter Hoc
"After this, therefore becaues of this"

Irene Adler

(Dr. Watson's POV)

I would never say I hate the woman. I can't deny strongly disliking her, hoping to avoid her anytime I know she's in London, breathing sighs of relief anytime I know she's abroad, and should she ever get hit by a train, or run over by a hansom, or sink in a ship on her way to our land, I would probably not feel particularly sorry for her.

But hate is a strong word, and what's more, it might upset Holmes to use it, and the woman in the same sentence.

I, John H. Watson, M.D., have no reason to hate her. After all, aside from occasionally flustering my dearest friend, and sometimes flaunting in public the fact that she has him twisted around her slender little finger…and downright manipulating him to the point where she puts our lives at stake and nearly kills my Holmes…rather, she can sometimes be an inconvenience on cases, it's not like she's personally done anything to me.

What bothers me about her is her audacity. A woman is meant to be a subservient being. I don't mean to sound chauvinistic like Holmes, but if women were meant to strut about the globe, marrying and divorcing men while still maintaining a level of respect in my mind—in anyone's!—then I daresay the world would be a chaotic place.

That is one reason. My other simply lies in the loyalty and devotion I have towards Sherlock Holmes, consulting detective, and the man whom above all else I revere. That anyone alive could outsmart Holmes (twice, might I pointedly add) is something for which even if I were to feel respect for, I would also feel resentment. Holmes is justice incarnate,and if one is to cross paths with him, surely it is down the path to injustice, no matter how supreme his or in this case her intellect may be. Furthermore, in the case of the Scandal in Bohemia, it was simply intuition and anxiety on the part of the woman, and overconfidence on the part of Sherlock Holmes that allowed her to get away before we could get the documents we needed. I concede that we were unsuccessful, but Holmes' methods were clear cut, and had we acted that night, we might have thwarted her yet.

The second time I will not mention, as Holmes' personal life is his and his business alone. But it was only the woman's beguiling ways and wily personality that allowed her to outsmart him. Had he not been so enraptured by her, yes, I daresay that if he had kept his normally indifferent front, again he could have risen as the victor of the dispute which befell them.

As it is, she has twice outsmarted him by seducing him, and not by using any intellect whatsoever. I personally wish to admonish those who view the situation as otherwise, but that is not what I am here to discuss. I feel the need to bring this up because the woman is expected over here to our humble abode in a quarter of an hour for tea.

XXX

"So then, Sherlock, I pray you'll accept the case?" She bats her long, dark eyelashes at him and looks at him with glimmering eyes.

Oh, how the mighty have fallen.

You see, the woman—that is to say: Miss Irene Adler has come to Holmes regarding a case she herself (and nobody else, she insists indignantly) wants him to take up. It's a rather sad story involving a personal friend of hers (who knew she had any?), a financial situation, and a short tempered brute molesting her dear friend night and day. If 'Sherlock' can simply help her friend untangle the threads which play a role in the financial debt, the she will be free and Miss Adler will be forever in Holmes' debt (as if she wasn't already).

"Irene, since the case with Blackwood I have been quite busy," he answers slowly, hesitantly. I wish I could tell him not to let her see his hesitation, his fear, but I bite my tongue as he expects me to. "And the case can be cleared up by any private detective, I assure you, if it really is too delicate a matter for the Yard as you have said. I wish I could be of more help, but the case offers few points of interest, and many drab clichés the likes of which might be more suited for Watson's writing style than my detective style."

He casts me a smirk and I cast him a glare as her pale face momentarily turns back in my direction. I know that she had certainly forgotten about me for a moment, lost in a world of only her dearest 'Sherlock' (my Holmes) and herself. Her obscenely pink self. Our eyes meet for a fraction of a second and then we are both watching Holmes again, me temperamentally and she hopefully.

"Sherlock, please," she begins with a voice sweet as honey that drips from her full lips readily. She's pleading with him with an almost kittenish manner and looking at him like a temptress. I read uncertainty in his eyes and he clears his throat. "This would mean so much to Kitty…" her friend's name is Kitty? Ironic. Well, Catherine, I suppose, but still. "And it would also mean so much to me…" Well who cares? Why don't you solve the case, Miss Adler?

"If I get any breakthroughs in my other cases, I suppose I could look into it. It seems simple enough." He responds, picking at some dried clay caked on his nails and cuticles from an earlier geographic study he was immersed in.

Wait, what?

"Do you really mean it?"

"I will have none of your paying up front," he answers sharply, looking up at her with very dark eyes.

She looks about to hesitate, then nods willingly. "Have it your way. I thank you from the bottom of my heart." And with that she rises, graceful as a butterfly, and flutters across the room to kiss his cheek boldly. His eyebrows rise slightly and my heart temporarily gets dislodged somewhere in my throat, obstructing my windpipe, and she pulls back with a self-satisfied look. "I guess I'll be seeing you then."

"That you will," he answers quietly, and she gathers her things and quits the room, calling a curt goodbye to me, which I do not answer.

After she is gone, I slump in my chair in a foul mood while Holmes begins leafing through notes he took earlier on his geography, apparently not thinking much of the case.

"Irene's visit has left you in dark spirits, I see, Watson."

I sit up in surprise as he reads my thoughts and shrug. "I just don't see why you always succumb to her requests. Are you really that masochistic?"

"May I inquire what is with you and your theories of my masochistic tendencies?" he asks smartly, looking at me with some annoyance.

"I only suggest such because you always melt into her, like a moth helplessly drawn to a flame, and then she leaves you high and dry, and very, very hurt."

He looks at me for a few moments silently, Holmes does. My Holmes. And I drink in the beauty that is his face: dark brown eyes, messy black hair, gracefully-chiseled chin and chapped, chewed lips. My mind wanders and I find myself wanting to cup that beautiful face in my hands and run my fingers across it gently, just to feel the different textures of his skin, his soft hair, his rough stubble, his silken eyelashes…

"Why do you say 'hurt?'" he startles me out of my reveries.

"Is it not obvious?" I demand harshly. To explain that I know how much Sherlock Holmes is in love with her is to admit defeat; that I know that obviously I am second on his list of importance and will always serve as such.

But his confused look confirms his innocent lack of knowledge on the topic, and as always, I sacrifice my own pride to explain it. "You love her. And every time she comes by, you hope above all hope that she'll fall in love with you too. And every time, she just leaves again, having spent you, consequently breaking your heart yet again."

It hurts me to say it, but I wonder if it doesn't hurt him even more to hear it. I look at him nervously, afraid I've said too much but he only narrows his brows in thought. Finally, he rises and moves to stand before me, looking down at me.

"You think I'm in love with Irene Adler? Watson, as usual, your reasoning is rather solid, and certainly has a hint of logic somewhere, but your conclusions are erroneous. Irene is something dear to me simply because she is such an enigma and also because of the danger that follows her wherever she goes. She fascinates me to say the least, but I certainly do not love her."

"You…" my world has just been turned upside-down. "You do not?"

As if my mental reeling weren't already disorientating-enough, Holmes suddenly leans down and presses his lips firmly to mine.

"Listen to me," he breathes, tobacco and tea-scented mist upon my lips. "I never knew those were your causes for hating her so. Please try and lessen the loathing in your heart and in turn understand that there is only one being I will ever hope against hope will fall in love with me."

I could tell him that if it'd make him happy, I'd forgive her forever and accept her as a welcome guest in our home. Or I could tell him that I'm sorry my conclusions were wrong and I wish I was as intelligent as he. I could even tell him that in a way, she fascinates me too, and that's one more thing that we share in common. But instead, I simply pull him close to me and smile broadly at the most beautiful face I've ever been blessed to cast my eyes upon, and tell him:

"You needn't hope any longer."

I'm more focused on our second kiss, and I finally find out what I've dreamt Irene Adler has tasted on her smirking lips for years.

Hope you enjoyed, and I hope Adler fans aren't mad. I absolutely LOVE Rachel McAdams and her colorful version of Irene Adler, but I find her a bit overrated, and my only Holmes buddy is OBSESSED with her, and makes her the center of the universe (not the sun, and not the earth, as Holmes might be confused over the true center XD) This was a bit of a rant on that I suppose (they just don't belong together! ) And since I know she won't read this, THIS RANT GOES OUT TO SHERLOCK HOLMES AND JOHN WATSON ALONE, NO PRINCESSES INTERVENING.

Uhg so sorry, just fed up. I hope you enjoyed, please let me know what you think!

FINALLY, HarryPotterResidentEvilFanJnL, your suggestion is being processed and will hopefully be seen soon, as a preview for you ;) Thanks everyone!