Ch14

When Irene fell asleep Sherlock slipped out of the bed and took his clothes. For the noise Irene opened her eyes. "Just can't sleep. I go out. Won't disappear." he smiled and bowed down to kiss her lips. She closed her eyes and fell into a deep dreamless sleep.
Sherlock took his trousers and shirt on but didn't bother to button it. It wasn't cold at all. He took a pack of cigarettes out of his coats pocket and took one strode between his lips. He opened the balcony door and as he stepped out he lighted the cigarette.

He blew the smoke out slowly into the darkness of the night and closed his eyes. He started to smoke again instead of nicotine patches after his death. It was easier and the moves gave him some familiar calmness.

He had millions of thoughts and emotions running through his head. They were not bad. Not at all. Just very unfamiliar. He never had someone before and he had never wanted to. He had always presumed that love made things difficult and complicated. And yes, he had been right. But there was nothing to do with that anymore. He had fallen for The women. He didn't know what to do with that but he knew that from this moment he was somehow responsible for her.

However he had things to do. He had to search Moriarty's criminal web because until even only one part of it existed he couldn't know in which moment a hidden order would kill the ones he cared about. Such a huge organization has very big inertia not to mention that someone will definitely want to get the power for himself. Moriarty had been prepared for everything. Even if he had died he could win if Sherlock has to watch his loved ones to die. That was his plan, to leave Sherlock no way out but to disappear. To make Sherlock die or hide forever in disgrace, it didn't matter for him.

So he still had to leave Irene behind and do the job alone. He couldn't bear to take her into such danger even if she was able to get herself into much bigger chaos. "My misbehaving woman." For that tought he smirked. He stubbed his cigarette and opened the door to go in. He decided to go back to the bed next to Irene.

Walking towards the bedroom he suddenly heard thumps and something heavy falling onto the floor. Then he heard Irene screaming "Sher..." He stepped to his suitcase and grabbed his handgun as quick as a lightning and opened the bedroom door. He saw Irene lying on the floor unconsciously and a man above her with a silenced handgun. Sherlock shoot to the man's gunholder right hand without wasting any time. The man shouted from pain and his gun flew out of his hand to the farthest corner of the room. The assassin turned his head towards him and his eyes opened wider with dismay. "You...?" he hissed with hatred. Sherlock stood still, concentrated and prepared himself to be able to move fast in time. The man froze for a moment staring at Sherlock then stepped up and jumped through the window. Sherlock moved almost in the same moment, grabbed the assassin's gun and jumped after him.

They were racing from one roof to the other, running through blocks and streets. The man was fast but Sherlock was faster and he didn't have an injured hand. In a moment when they were far enough from Irene's house and the stranger was already on the street but Sherlock was still on one roof, Sherlock jumped right onto his shoulders. The man lost his balance and fell down. They started to fight on the ground. Sherlock was punching him as hard as he could but the man was strong and skilled. He could mostly avoid the strikes. Then there was a moment when their position was perfect and Sherlock simply headed the other man. He leaned down on the ground unconsciously. Sherlock took the assassins silenced gun and simply shoot him on the heart than he cleaned the gun and dropped it next to the body and left. He wanted it to look like some street fight not hunting down.

...

Irene got back her conscious after a while but suddenly she couldn't remember what happened all she could see was blood on her bedroom's floor and the opened window. Her head was aching like hell but she managed to stand up and took a sheet around herself. Everything was quiet so she slowly went out from the room to the kitchen and chose the biggest knife from the drawer. She slowly walked around the whole flat but she found nobody. Not even Sherlock. For a short moment she tought that he had stepped off again but then she found more likely that he tried to catch the attacker.

So she put herself together and dressed. Looking into the bathroom mirror she saw that her face was swollen and blue on the left side. She touched that place and hissed. She hoped that she didn't have a cracked cheekbone. She took up some makeup to make it disappear. It was not bad but far from perfect because as she recognized her hands were still shaking of punching back the attacker. She went to the bedroom and cleaned all the blood from the calpet. She took her always-prepared-to-run suitcase and set down to the couch with crossed legs, the knife in her hand and waited for him in the darkness to come back. She knew he would.

When she heard the three knocks on her door she rushed to open it but she held the knife prepared in height of lap. She opened the door quickly and stayed unmoving next to it. Sherlock noticed immediately the knife and said before he entered. "I really wouldn't do it if I were in your place." he whispered with a grin. Irene let the knife down and let out her breath. "Thank God, it's you." "What did you expect?" "Nothing else." she answered with a smile. "We have to leave right now. They know about you and it doesn't take much time for them to get to know about me if we stay. Although the assassin won't talk." "Did you..?" she asked hesitatingly. "Yes."

He turned away and rushed to the bathroom. Sherlock stepped in and took down his bloody shirt. Irene followed him. "Good God, is that your blood?" "Mainly not." He had several bruises on his upper body and face and his left bow was bleeding. He saw it in the mirror and washed it with cold water. When he looked up after drying his face with a towel he saw Irene standing and watching him in the mirror. He knitted his brows and turned to her examining the bruise under her makeup. "It isn't broken, is it?" "Don't think so, but it hurts." He bent down to kiss her gently.

"We have to go." "I know, but where?" "Anywhere in Europe. I assumed that I had more time but they are better than I have thought." Sherlock took down his trousers as well and dropped it with his shirt to the steel dustbin, searched the cupboard for bleach and poured it all onto his clothes.

He got a shower and took on his jeans and t-shirt and combed back his hair as he wore it when he arrived. "Could you please make my face more... acceptable for street?" he asked Irene pointing at her mascara. "I think I have a broken index finger." he added.

Irene nodded and made him sit down onto a small chair. While she was concentrating she asked. "How did you do it? The suicide." Sherlock took a deep breath. "Moriarty and I were on the roof of the Bart's, he shot himself on the head, and it was his body what everybody saw falling." What? Is Moriarty dead?" "Yes. Twice." he grinned. "How did you know that he will kill himself?" "I didn't. I would jump, but it was better this way. " "But how did you fake your dead body?" "I have a ... friend in the morgue; she prepared a body to look like exactly me." "Oh that mouse like girl who you kissed at Christmas." asked Irene with neutral face. Sherlock raised one eyebrow and asked. "Are you jealous Ms Adler?" "Should I be?" she teased him. Sherlock smiled but didn't answer her. "So the fake body was right under the laundry truck, what Moriarty's body fell on. Then the truck was moved away and everybody just saw my dead body and they have never found Moriarty's because Molly replaced with it the stolen body." he finished. "Not bad Mr Holmes." she smiled. "Actually quite clever." she added. "I know." he smiled back. Irene chuckled and said. "Your face is done."

Thanks for reading this chapter. I don't know yet how they end their adventure but it is beginning to become clear.