Special thanks, as ever, goes to my beta, Holly.
Sherlock observed the small item in his hands, as if preparing to snatch it from him, Irene stood up, keeping her eyes on the phone.
"So, what do you keep on here? In general, I mean." he asked.
"Pictures, information, anything I might find useful." Irene explained.
"For blackmail." John stated. It was an accusation, not a question.
"For protection." Irene corrected. "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 you can con people into doing your bidding." Alex asked, mirroring John's accusatory tone.
"If you like. It's more fun and rewarding than living a conventional life." Irene replied snidely. Not since the showdown with Donovan had Alex ever wanted to slap another woman so hard. Sherlock acknowledged her words and continued.
"How do you acquire this information?" he asked.
"I told you," she answered him, "I misbehave."
"But you've acquired something that's more danger than protection. Do you know what it is?"
"Yes." Irene confirmed, as if he'd dare ask her. "But I don't understand it."
"I assumed. Show me."
Irene held her manicured hand out to him to request the item. He held it back from her.
"The passcode." he demanded. Irene didn't move. She just held her ground to silently let him know that she wasn't going to take orders. It was her phone, after all.
Sherlock reluctantly handed the phone over and sat back in his chair. Alex took a moment to observe his face. He flicked his eyes up and down Irene, which was his usual gesture when 'scanning' someone. However, the parting of his lips and the small, yet unavoidably obvious, sigh he made when checking her was an expression that no one would ever think that the detective would make. It was a look of lust. Of awe and admiration. A subtle pleasure someone would feel when their match had got the better of them. Sherlock actually seemed to like it. He liked having his control taken away from him by someone who was his equal. No wonder this woman made such a good living as a dominatrix. If she could persuade Sherlock to do something just by looking at him, she could manipulate anyone.
Alex felt surges of respect and admiration replace her earlier feeling of animosity towards Irene. This was not to say that Alex was beginning to like her, it was just that she had attributes that Alex couldn't help but look up to.
The familiar error sound was heard after Irene input her passcode. She had got it wrong! Alex wondered if Sherlock had, in fact, deduced it and changed it already.
"It's not working…" Irene said, staring at the phone. Sherlock was quick to explain the reason.
"No, because it's a duplicate that I had made, into which you've just entered the numbers one-oh-five-eight!" He got up as soon as he started speaking and took the phone out of Irene's hands to reveal that the genuine article was behind the skull on the mantelpiece. "Thought you'd choose something more specific, but thanks anyway."
He stood confidently in front of her and applied the four numbers to the real phone. His arrogance was evident in his face, yet Irene didn't display any signs of defeat. She equalled his certainty.
However, Sherlock's conceited attitude was short-lived as the phone made the same sound, letting him know that 1058 was the wrong passcode. Irene looked pleased with herself.
"I told you that camera phone was my life. I know when it's in my hand."
She took the phone off him, not taking her eyes from his. They stood close together, engaged in a motionless, flirtatious dance.
"Oh you're rather good." He was definitely impressed, but was not smiling.
"You're not so bad." Irene returned.
John screwed his face up, not believing what he was seeing. Alex too felt quite nauseated. She would have loved for Sherlock to experience attraction, love or even intimacy, yet this was all too much. They were practically making love with their eyes, right there in the living room. An unwelcome image permeated Alex's mind – an image she fought tooth and nail to expel.
"Ugh! Get a room!" she blurted waiving her arms.
Both of them turned to stare at her, furrowing their eyebrows in confusion at her statement.
"What?" Sherlock asked.
"You two, you're just… ugh, I'm going to my flat, see you later, guys!"
Alex made her exit with all three members of 221b staring at her. She nodded at John, who smirked a little. He, too, had deduced that there was a strong attraction between them. It was clear from the moment they met that they were made for one another. They both knew it. Would they act on it? Alex didn't want to think about that.
She spent most of the afternoon on Facebook, YouTube and Tumblr. With no more pictures to upload or blog posts to write, she texted John to find out what was happening upstairs.
J: I've gone to see Mike. I warned Irene that he wouldn't notice and probably keep talking to me.
A: She's still here? What are you going to do with her?
J: Don't know. Any suggestions?
A: I would like to see Mycroft take care of her. Legally, I mean. They may need to force the passcode from her.
J: Yeah. She refused to divulge it. I'm a little nervous about leaving them alone at the flat.
A: Why?
J: Don't you think something will happen?
A: Oh God. I won't know how to feel if anything does happen.
J: How do you mean?
A: I would love Sherlock to have some sort of romantic or intimate experience, seeing as he is so naïve about aspects of love and life beyond the academic. But with Irene? No way.
J: Who would you rather it was with?
A: Molly. I'd love to see those two together for both their sakes.
J: I agree. Sherlock told me something the night of 'Pink'. He said he was 'married to his work'.
A: Seems about right. Let's hope he doesn't commit adultery. At least not tonight. Not with her.
Alex heard a faint knock coming from upstairs. She had learned to recognise knocks on Mrs Hudson's door rather than her own, although the two were right next to one another. A man's voice was speaking to the landlady. The sound of footsteps in the lobby and then going up the stairs resonated through the ceiling of Alex's flat. Mrs Hudson called Sherlock's name but the sounds of her voice afterwards, and the man's, were unintelligible. Alex was not sure about whether to have a look or stay in her flat.
She turned around from the stairs to see her beautiful kitten staring up at her with adorable eyes. That was all it took for Alex to make her decision to remain in her flat with her friend. Not long after, the front door to the building closed. The man must have left; whoever he was.
She chastised her naturally curious and impulsive mind for telling her to go to investigate and instead let her moral values take precedent. She told herself that it was none of her business and to stay out of Sherlock and Irene's affairs.
A phone call from John Watson woke Alex the next morning. At eight o'clock, of all times.
"Hello, John, what can I do for you on this rather early morning?" She tried to sound annoyed but she was too sleepy.
"Hi, Alex. Sorry to wake you. Can you come up in a minute?"
"Not right this minute, no. I need to brush my teeth, do my hair and…"
"Don't worry about that, you'll want to hear what Sherlock's got to say about the events of last night." John sounded rather excited.
"Oh no, I'd rather not hear the gory details! Just tell him congratulations from me." Alex made her voice sound as sarcastic as possible.
"No, no, no, no, it's nothing like that." John replied with a laugh as he understood her assumptions given their text conversation the night before. "Seriously, Alex, you'll want to hear it."
"Ok, give me… twenty minutes." She terminated the call before he could protest and flopped back onto the bed, half-heartedly cursing the day she met the Baker Street's Blogger Detectives.
Alex was pressed and dressed and in Sherlock and John's living room a little later than she had anticipated, although it had given John more time to make Alex some toast. She thanked him and sat in the red chair with the union jack cushion, opposite the detective and John. The latter was first to speak.
"After you left yesterday, Irene unlocked the phone, although she didn't tell us the code and locked it again straight afterwards."
"She showed me a fragment of an email she had photographed," the detective interrupted, "which turned out to be arrangements of passengers on a flight. It was for the seven four seven for half past six this morning from Heathrow, which I deduced by the number of rows, name of the flight, the predicament The Woman had got herself into and the fact that the information came from an MoD man. Mycroft found out and summoned me to meet with him on that very plane. The Woman also showed up and revealed her plan."
"Plan?" Alex asked.
"Yes. She had more than photographs on that phone. Much more. Information about terror cells, scandals, anything at all that could compromise the safety of this country and its population, just to preserve her own life. Mycroft suggested several ways to access the phone, such as extracting it from her by force, breaking the phone open or destroying it completely."
"Which option did he go with?" Alex asked. Sherlock made a noise that was midway between a scoff and a laugh.
"None."
"Why?"
"She's too clever." he said, interlocking his fingers and transferring his stare to the fireplace, which was fully lit and delivering a fair quantity of warmth to the room.
"I went to Bart's yesterday morning and x-rayed the phone. There were devices in the phone that had been designed to either burn or blow up the hard-drive. Using torture on her would also be pointless as she had two passcodes for the phone. One to burn the drive, the other to unlock the phone and there would only be one attempt available. She almost certainly wouldn't divulge the latter passcode under duress. Mycroft argued that there would be some data still present that could be recovered, but this was too much of a risk. His next suggestion was to destroy it. The Woman then told him that doing so could jeopardise the safety of the British people. She refused to say either way though."
"Ok, so what was the point of all this?" Alex said, shrugging her shoulders in confusion of the point of this story. Sherlock leaned forward in his chair before continuing.
"She handed him a list of her 'requests.'" Sherlock said slowly, as he was nearing the crucial moment of the tale. "She said that he needed to comply with her demands immediately and she then went on to explain how she attained the damning information on her phone. Can you guess how?"
This question threw Alex. She really didn't know how to answer and felt a little frustrated at his continued attempts to get her to fill in the information. After a few seconds, Alex's newly woken brain had enough already.
"I dunno, how?" she asked.
"No, no, no. You can work it out." he said, smiling mockingly.
"Sherlock," John interjected, "Don't try and show off, just tell her."
"No, she will be able to figure it out. Remember that the information she had on her phone was of 'national importance?'" Sherlock told her, clearly giving a clue.
This evoked memories of Alex's second case with Sherlock involving Zak Laurence and Rebecca Scanlan. She asked herself repeatedly how Irene could obtain such information. Did she find it out herself, steal it or make some observations and deductions as Sherlock did?
"She must have received them from a source of some kind, or sources?" Alex suggested.
"Mm hm…" Sherlock replied with a nod. "Can work out from which source?"
The answer came to Alex as if someone had sent her brain an email with the answer. It was effortless.
"Moriarty!" Alex exclaimed.
"The one and only. He had been in contact with Mycroft too. It was when she mentioned the words 'Jim Moriarty sends his love' that the whole thing clicked."
"Do tell, Mr Holmes…" Alex said cheekily before draining the last of her tea.
"That word. Love." Sherlock grimaced as he said this, as if that word had personally insulted him. "People throw that word around like they throw around money. It was her downfall."
There was a long pause from the detective before he spoke again. His chin rested on his hands and John had to poke him in the shoulder to prompt him. After regaining his concentration, Sherlock continued.
"It was that very thing that betrayed her secret."
"Which was?" Alex asked. She almost asked what the point of him talking about love was.
"Her passcode. The four digits needed to unlock the phone were S, H, E and R." Sherlock explained.
"The first four letters of your name. But I don't get it…" Alex said. She watched Sherlock as he pulled the very phone from his pocket.
"It's not the real phone, it's the duplicate. However, the screen is identical…" he said as he punched the letters S, H, E and R into it. He held the phone up to her and when he did, the whole thing made sense. It wasn't a passcode; it was a sentence. A declaration of how Irene felt about Sherlock Holmes. At last, Alex understood what Sherlock meant when he talked about love. She said the words out loud.
I AM
SHER
LOCKED
"Oh my God!" Alex cried out. "So you deduced the passcode right at the moment when Mycroft thought that all hope had gone?"
"Yes!" Sherlock affirmed, clapping his palms together. "If she had chosen a random number, she would have succeeded in bringing this very nation to its knees."
"But you rumbled her." Alex concluded. The detective looked confused and raised an eyebrow. "I mean you thwarted her plans."
"Yes, that's what I did!" Sherlock seemed rather proud of himself. He stood in front of the fireplace with his hands behind his back as if he was expecting a round of applause. The three of them remained in silence for a few moments.
"So, did Mycroft take care of her?" Alex asked eventually.
"No, he let her go."
"He what? He let that scheming, conniving bitch out on the street?!" Alex was on her feet by this point. Sherlock would normally be offended by anyone speaking ill of Irene – but not today. There was no flicker of emotion in his face.
"That phone was her lifeline, her only protection. Without it, she will not go far at all. She even said herself that she wouldn't last six months."
Another short of period of silence dominated the atmosphere of the flat. Alex wanted to see Irene locked up for her criminal dealings, not set free, yet letting her go when the people after her would surely get her and kill her was a cruel decision. Irene's only protection would be at a high security prison – something that Mycroft could wangle easily without trial.
This counteracted Alex's previous opinion of Sherlock's feelings for Irene. She was sure that given his apparently genuine grief at her 'death', he felt something for her that was tantamount to love. However, his indifference now just showed resentment and possible hate. Despite Sherlock's lack of compassion for the general public, Irene's desire for the highest power in the country, to the detriment of anyone else, seemed to have affected him. Was this why he was only referring to Irene as The Woman?
The second of January 2012 was a normal working day for London. Alex spent a few hours at the gym and the library and tried her hardest to do her best at the tasks she aimed to complete at both facilities, but her mind was constantly going back to Sherlock and Irene. Alex knew enough about love to know that once love strikes, it doesn't just go away; not even if he object of the person's love has done something cruel or even evil. Her ex-girlfriend could have done what Irene had done, yet Alex wouldn't have fallen out of love with her. She may not have liked what her ex did, but this would not have negated the feelings.
Sherlock had the most honed and disciplined brain out of everyone whom Alex had met in her life. But even he wouldn't be able to command his heart to comply with his head.
Later that evening, Alex offered to buy the boys pizza. She liked spending time with her housemates and she enjoyed takeaway food as much as he next person. However, she had an ulterior motive.
In the middle of Emmerdale (a soap opera Sherlock couldn't stand, so he sat in his chair reading about quantum physics), John went to the bathroom, leaving Alex alone with the detective. She knew what she wanted to ask but was nervous.
"So, um, do you… care about what may happen to Irene?" she asked. Her heart was pounding and her face was flushed. Sherlock didn't even turn to look at her but had deduced her apprehensiveness from the corner of his eye.
"Why would you even care to pose that question?" Sherlock asked with a deeper than normal growl resonating from his throat as he spoke. It only made Alex even more nervous.
"You were, um, obviously upset when she – you know – 'died.'"
Without looking at her, Sherlock put a card in his place in the book and slammed it shut with one hand. Harder than was necessary. He placed the book beside him and pulled his knees up to his chest, hugging them tightly. At that moment, Alex felt a little braver but was cautious of an outburst from him.
"Why do you hate her now? Why were you happy to send her to her inevitable death rather than have her safely put away?"
Sherlock didn't respond. He kept his eyes on the telly and his arms around his legs. Within only two seconds of observing him in this closed position, the answers to Alex's questions had been granted.
He did still love Irene and regretted not making Mycroft have her incarcerated. It was playing on his mind and he was focusing hard on it. Irene would certainly be dead in half a year and he knew it. He didn't hate Irene. He resented himself for not saving her. A second death was coming and he was powerless to stop it. This time, the death would be for real.
Alex silently cursed herself for asking Sherlock such personal and heart-breaking questions and once again tried her hardest to resist the temptation to hug the hurt out of him.