I lead her onto the floor. And I take her hand and we begin this dance. I never thought it would feel this good to have a killer this close to me. I don't think there was any light between us, let alone air. To my surprise, Nicole is a great dancer. Which again brings me to the point about. Being a good lover and a good dancer. I wonder...

That's what she does. Her MO. Seduce and destroy. She must be amazing to have so many drawn in. So many fooled. So many dead.

But here I am. Hand in hand with her. Watching her movement. She is. I would dare say, very seductive with her movements. It's like she's trying to cast a spell over me, with each sway of her hips. Each glance over her shoulder.

"So. My darling, what do you know about the tango itself?"

"Well. Most believe that it was a dance to tell the story of a prostitute and her pimp. Used to illustrate their forbidden desires for each other. His jealousy. Her own agenda. But it always is about love."

"I guess that makes me the prostitute then...But don't worry. You can have a freebie."

That little statement threw me off guard enough for her break off from me and take some random partner. I watched her with him. She went through the motions and I must admit. I did feel a twinge of jealousy.

She laughed with delight. She must have noticed it. But she always comes back to me. After it all.

"I'm sorry, love. Just wanted test a theory."

I pull her even tighter to me, "Alright Nicole. If you want to play games with me..."

"Yes. Yes. I know the rules."

"Glad you remember. So, why are you here?"

I think she was trying to distract me because she stretched her leg to my shoulder, "Just wanted to let you know that I've been a good girl."

I notice that people are clearing off the floor, making room for us. They're watching us. To them, we must look like old lovers. Sharing one last dance.

I take her leg off my shoulder and spin her so she faces forward.

"Don't tell me. You've just sat at home."

She turns to face me, engaging me with those eyes, "Actually I have. Been catching up on some reading. Can't very well have people believe that I was once a professor of English literature if I'm not well read."

"Always about appearances isn't it?"

"With me? Of course it is."

That smug look on her face. I know she's preparing to strike. But I'll bite, "So, what have you been. Reading?"

"Sir Arthur Conan Doyle."

Of course you have, "And you've discovered what...That I..."

"Am a modern day Sherlock Holmes...Without the drug habit. But you're attention to detail. Your unrelenting pursuit of evil."

"We've discussed this before, Nicole. Evil, like yourself, is unrelenting in its pursuits."

"Touche, Bobby."

During this little chat, I've noticed that we are now alone. Every eye in the room is on us. Waiting for the next chapter in this story we're playing out. Whispering. Wondering how we are connected. If we've been lovers, or if we've been more. Little do they know she's like a dark spot on my very soul. And I'm sure she knows I've marked hers as well.

She wraps a leg around my waist. I feel as if I'm being strangled.

"So, if I'm Holmles...A great deductive mind. I would need a nemesis. I would need a great mind to challenge me. I would need Moriarty. And that's you. Right Nicole?"

That laugh. Probably a rare carefree moment for her, "Of course not! He was the very embodiment of cruelty and evil."

She tries to take the lead again. I push her away from me. She almost crawls back to me and entangles her fingers in mine. Allowing me to gently lead her again.

"Have you read Scandal in Bohemia ?"

Is she actually suggesting... "Yes. Once or Twice."

"Then you already know who I am."

"You. Irene Adler. Nicole. Please, even you can't believe that. She was only trying to protect herself. You've done. WAY more than that."

She is actually quiet for a moment. But I can see her carefully choosing her words. That's one strength that she posses. She can always say the right thing. But even in her break to gather her thoughts, this dance goes on.

"I've always just protecting myself Bobby. You know that."

"From what. Exactly? The truth. What your father did..."

"No. That never happened."

"Or the fact you've killed at least a dozen people."

"NEVER! I never KILLED anyone."

The fire behind her eyes in undeniable. I definitely know her panic button. She can never admit the truth to herself. Which is the reason she will never change. Instead of healing. She will only continue to mask the pain. Mask the shame. The guilt.

"So, by saying that you were just protecting yourself...Killing these people. Was it because you were afraid they were going to hurt you?"

"Nice try, Detective."

"Or that they would know the truth? No one likes damaged goods."

"I did not take your invitation to be insulted, Bobby."

"Of course not. You just didn't want anyone to turn on you."

"Exactly."

"Well. My position on you will never change."

"My point exactly. Just as Irene would always be "the woman" for Holmes, I will always be "the woman" for you."

The music ends and she gently places a kiss on my cheek. Then she smiles, "Until we meet again, Bobby...And I promise you we will."

"I have no doubts."

There's that smile again. I had her back her sherry. She takes it, lingering a bit too long when her hand touches mine. But as soon as she catches herself, she walks away.

I watch her the rest of the night from my darkened corner. I watch her make nice to some young man at the bar. He looks like he's already heart-broken and she seems to be promising to heal that broken heart. They fawn over each other, until she obviously suggests that they go somewhere else.

She makes it a point to walk past me. She gives a little wave good bye and they disappear into the night.

And I can't help but think I've seen that young man before...And then I realize that I had. He was a journalist and a very popular one at that.

Of course, the next thought that crosses my mind is...Will I be investigating his murder tomorrow?