Despite her promise to go back to the hotel, Joan was not going to just let Sherlock go to a cafe with a woman who clearly had so much to hide. So she followed behind Sherlock as he made his way to the cafe, unseen, she was lost amongst the crowds on the street. He reached the cafe and went inside. Through the window Joan saw him sat at a table with Irene. They were sat side- on at an angle. From the window so Joan could see both their faces, although the angle meant that she could see Irene's better, this gave Joan some comfort, she could see whatever Irene was doing. Joan hovered outside, pretending to be on her phone and checking herself in her mirror. All the while she was sneaking glances in the cafe, unsure what she would do if trouble did actually erupt from inside.
...
"So what is your real name then?" Sherlock asked, turning down Irene's offer of wine from the bottle that she was currently pouring herself.
"They call me Moriarty."
"They call you? So you're not going to tell me then?" Irene threw back her head and laughed, her blonde hair, falling past her shoulders and onto her black skirt-suit.
"You can call me Irene, sweetie."
"I don't understand. Why did you fake your own death?"
"You see, you were a project. A distraction. I had fully intended to kill you, I am somewhat of a big player in the criminal underworld here in London and across of the world for that matter. I lived well and without much trouble until you started to poke your nose into my business deals, getting some of my dear friends arrested! I simply couldn't have it anymore. So I engineered a plot to get our two paths to cross and then I would kill you off quietly. You dabbled in drugs so I had the idea to make it look like an overdose, no one would give it a second glance. But the more I got to know you the more I realised that I couldn't kill you, you were far too unique for me to destroy. I decided instead to 'kill myself'; I knew that would be enough to tip you over the edge and off of your detective ways for a while. I have since found out that you went a little more over the edge. Sorry about that. You dropped off of my radar and moved to New York. My plan had worked. But imagine my surprises when my sources told me that you had flown into London. I couldn't resist having one last look at that refined face of yours. I didn't want you to see me though. Unfortunately that didn't exactly go to plan."
"That's bollocks. If you had wanted to see me covertly you would have. A small jewellery shop is not the place to be discreet. You wanted this to happen. Perhaps you think it will send me into a drug-fuelled spiral. Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you but that is not going to happen. So perhaps we should just part ways now."
"Weeeell maybe I did want to speak to you one last time. You were the most fun I had in a long time."
"Am I supposed to just believe that you're some kind of criminal mastermind then?"
"Sigh, okay let's see, some of the cases that you solved that weren't in the press... The David James affair, Susanna Colde abduction, Brett Luther – now that one really upset me, he was one of my best men! Now he's doing time in Pentonville. Shame really. They were all cases that you solved that I had arranged for clients. You were becoming quite the coin in my washing machine dear and I just couldn't have it any longer."
"Why not just kill me?"
"I told you, do try to keep up. You are interesting, intriguing, intricate, I couldn't just kill you. I realised through our time together that it would have been a squandering of this world's resources. Other people are just so dull. And you're not."
Sherlock smiled as a wave of realisation washed over him.
"I don't think that is quite true." He said, sipping from his glass of water.
"No?"
"No. I think that you fell in love with me. And you couldn't bring yourself to kill me because of that."
"Oh don't flatter yourself."
"Deny it all you want. But I simply cannot believe that even a small part of what we had was real. There is no way you could keep up pretence for that long if there wasn't a small piece of truth to it."
"Believe what you want."
"Was it you that tried to get Gregson's family killed? Or me killed for that matter."
"That police officer? Ohh no, that wasn't me. I was very cross when I heard about it though. I had put out specific instructions; no one is to harm Sherlock Holmes. I mean really, it's not that difficult to follow a simple instruction. Criminals these days, they are not as trustworthy as they used to be! But I want to know more about Fiancée dearest."
"Oh please, as if you couldn't find out everything about her if you wanted to."
"True. I want to hear it from you though."
Sherlock began to tell Irene that he wasn't going to discuss Joan when he became distracted. A small red dot had appeared on Irene's dark suit. It hovered and shook slightly and disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. Before Sherlock had time to warn Irene or even blink there was an ear-splitting crack and the sound of the cafe window smashing and Irene slipped from her chair onto the floor.
Pandemonium ensued inside the cafe.
...
Joan heard the crack of the gunshot and she covered her face as the cafe window smashed. She didn't have time to think before people began to scream and run from inside. Instinctively she ran inside, pushing past the swathes of people leaving. Sherlock was kneeling next to Irene who was lying on the floor, bleeding profusely from the chest. A small trickle of blood also came from her mouth, she gurgled.
"Oh my God."
"Joan... help" Sherlock croaked.
Joan knelt down and tore off her jumper, using it to put pressure on the wound, she also felt for Irene's wrist to feel for a pulse. It was weak. "Sherlock, listen to me. I need you to call for an ambulance and if you can I need you to find me some plastic film wrap."
Sherlock nodded and began to call 999 whilst leaping over the counter of the cafe to search for the plastic film. He gave the operator their address and routed through the cupboards.
"Sher-lock" Irene gasped.
"Sherlock!" Joan called. Sherlock leapt back over the counter and ran over to Irene; he pulled her head into his lap despite Joan's objections and pleads not to move her. He wept quietly. Despite the torment Irene had put him through; he couldn't help but breakdown at the thought of losing her again. Joan was cutting through Irene's top to reach the bullet wound.
"You-were-right." Irene said through increasingly ragged breaths. Sherlock stroked her face, smearing it with her blood that soaked his hands. "I-did-love you." Irene's last words left her lips and the ragged breaths stopped. Her eyes glazed over.
"No no no no" Sherlock repeated, pulling her in tighter and crying harder now. Joan stopped trying to treat the wound and looked up. At that moment the paramedics rushed in and Joan had to pull Sherlock away. He hugged her and wept and she rubbed his back. Joan heard the paramedics quietly confirm life extinct.
Sherlock had lost Irene for a second time and this time, it was forever.