Hi Readers,
his is the first chapter that incorporates and rewrites scenes and stories from the show. I hope you like it!
MD
Irene Adler – The Woman – stood naked in front of Sherlock Holmes. She gave nothing away except her measurements, and a smirk that grew larger as she stepped towards him. His eyes were wide as she stood above him and tugged the priest's collar from his neck.
"There, now we're both defrocked," she said.
"Ms Adler, I presume?" He replied, trying to keep his cool.
III
Margaux tapped on the door and opened it slowly.
"Hi," she said with a smile.
"Hi," Molly replied as she carried a tray of samples across the lab.
Margaux stepped in and closed the door behind her, lifting a lab coat from the hanger and putting it on.
"I hope you don't mind me coming up here again, I swear I won't be in your way; I just had to finish these tests before everything gets delayed over Christmas."
"Oh no, don't be silly, of course I don't mind." Molly waved her hand as she spoke. "I'll be leaving soon anyway; got to get my last few Christmas presents together for Sherlock and John's party. Are you coming?"
"Oh, probably not."
"Other plans?"
"Not really. I'm just… not sure I want to go anywhere." Margaux smiled, attempting to lighten her tone.
"But it's Christmas. You can't be all by yourself at Christmas. Plus, I've already bought you a present so…" Molly leaned on the table next to her.
"Well thank you. You didn't have to get me anything."
"It's just a token."
They smiled at each other. Margaux started setting up the machine she was sitting at, while Molly picked up another tray and carried it away.
"Are your family not big into Christmas?" Molly asked.
"Oh I don't see my family."
Molly stopped and turned to Margaux, her mouth open, her eyes darting around looking for a way to fix her mistake.
"Ah… Well I, er…"
"It's okay, Molly. I've been emancipated from my parents since I was fifteen."
"I had no idea, I'm so sorry."
"Don't be sorry; they're terrible people," Margaux laughed as if it were nothing.
"Well then… you absolutely have to come."
"Maybe."
Margaux returned to her task as Molly finished up quietly, taking off her gloves and hanging her lab coat next to the door. She pulled on her own coat and wrapped a scarf around her neck before reaching into her pocket and pulling out a set of keys. She placed them on the table and smiled at Margaux.
"They're to lock up," Molly began. "You can give them back to me at the party." She allowed a small smile as she turned around and left the lab.
III
'Merry Christmas, Mr Holmes x'
Sherlock rolled his eyes at the text and clicked his phone off. He lifted his violin and began to play.
Christmas lights and a crackling fire illuminated the dark, warm flat. Mrs Hudson sat in Sherlock's armchair with a glass of sherry as she listened to the merry songs. John greeted Lestrade at the door, taking his coat and offering him a beer in exchange.
"Just a water for me thanks, John," said Lestrade.
John nodded, keeping the beer for himself as he left to pour a glass at the kitchen sink.
"Lovely, Sherlock," Mrs Hudson began as the violin stopped. "That was lovely."
Sherlock took a bow.
"Mmm marvellous. That was very good." John agreed.
"I wish you could have worn the antlers," Mrs Hudson giggled drunkenly.
"Some things are best left to the imagination, Mrs Hudson," said Sherlock.
John's girlfriend stepped towards Sherlock with a tray of mince pies, staring blankly as she offered one to him.
"No thank you, Sarah," said Sherlock.
"Uh no, he's not good with names," John interrupted quickly.
"No no no, I can get this," he insisted. "Sarah was the doctor and then there was the one with the spots, and then the one with the nose, and then who was after the boring teacher?"
"Nobody," she replied bluntly.
"Jeanette!" Sherlock smiled. "Process of elimination."
He glanced through the front door and down the dark hall where he saw the outline of a woman. She was small, like Margaux, with long hair, like Margaux; he felt his heart beat faster. Until she stepped into the light. "Oh dear lord," he muttered to himself.
"Hello everyone," said Molly cheerfully as she shuffled into the flat. Her hands were full of gift bags and her poufy hair was accompanied by a pair of sparkling, oversized earrings. "It said on the door just to come up." She was beaming.
A murmur of greetings flooded the flat as she began to take off her coat.
"Everybody's saying hello to each other, just wonderful," he said sarcastically.
Sherlock liked Molly. She was a good friend. So much so that he almost felt bad for being disappointed to see her. But it wasn't Molly; anyone could have walked into the flat at that moment and, unless it was Margaux, he would have been disappointed all the same.
"Holy Mary!" said John as Molly removed her coat.
She was wearing a tight, black cocktail dress with a neckline that glittered almost as much as her smile. She stood awkwardly, fiddling with the dress and looking for a place to put her hands; staring at Sherlock, waiting for him to notice. He never did.
They returned to drinking and talking while Sherlock wrapped himself up in the hit count on John's blog to distract himself from her absence.
"Hope I'm not too late." A voice came from the doorway.
Everyone turned to see Margaux standing in her coat and a thick scarf, with a single perfectly wrapped gift in her hand.
"Oh, hey, glad you could make it," said John as he helped her take off her coat.
Underneath, she wore a dark green velvet top that hugged tight to her body. It was tucked into a flowing black skirt that sparkled softly in the light, stopping at the middle of her shins to reveal a pair of block-heeled shoes. She looked over to Sherlock who glanced back momentarily, before returning to his computer screen. She tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear and smiled at John with her perfectly painted red lips as he handed her a glass of sherry. She stepped over to Mrs Hudson, patting her kindly on the shoulders and perching on the arm of her chair.
"How's the hip?" Margaux asked.
"Oh, it's atrocious. But thanks for asking," Mrs Hudson replied.
"I've seen much worse," Molly interjected. "But then I do post-mortems."
The room fell silent.
"Oh, god sorry–"
"Don't make jokes, Molly," said Sherlock.
Lestrade handed Molly a glass of wine.
"Thank you! I didn't expect to see you, I thought you were going to be in Dorset for Christmas?" she said.
"That's first thing in the morning, me and the wife," Lestrade began. "Back together, it's all sorted."
"No, she's sleeping with the P.E teacher," Sherlock added.
"And John…" Molly quickly continued. "I hear you're going to your sister's, is that right?"
"First time ever, she's cleaned up her act, she's off the booze." John replied.
"Nope," Sherlock mumbled.
"Shut up, Sherlock," said John.
"God you're in a bad mood," Margaux laughed.
"See you've got a new boyfriend, Margaux." He quipped. "And you're serious about him."
"What? What makes you say that?"
"Or is it that you're just madly in love with someone in this very room?" Sherlock continued smugly.
"Take a day off," said John.
"Shut up and have a drink," added Lestrade.
"Oh come on, surely you've all seen the present she's holding. Perfectly wrapped with a bow. And she hasn't even bothered to bring one for anyone else. So they must be special then." He stood up, pivoting on his heels to face her.
He walked up to her slowly, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he spoke. He plucked the present from her hands and began to examine it.
"Shade of red echoes the lipstick, either an unconscious decision or one that she's deliberately trying to encourage. Either way, Dr Cave has love on her mind."
Margaux looked down at the floor, her embarrassed expression difficult to hide.
"The fact that he may be right here in this room is evident in the clothes she's wearing; a skin-tight top and a skirt that just about shows her freshly shaven legs…" he lifted the tag on the gift, stopping almost immediately.
There was silence. Margaux looked up at Sherlock with satisfaction as he read the name on the tag. She stood up and took a step towards him, bringing their bodies close enough to touch.
"I'm very particular about who I give presents to," she said quietly, aiming her words directly at him.
She took the gift from his hands and walked up to Molly.
"Merry Christmas, Molly." She held out the gift and smiled. "Don't worry, I'm not in love with you; that's just the way they wrapped it in the shop."
The flat murmured with laughter. John couldn't hide his grin.
"You always say such horrible things." Marguax turned to Sherlock. "And then you expect me to love you."
He felt her words in his bones. The quiver in her voice. He fidgeted on the spot; how could he fix this? He needed to fix it.
"I am sorry, Margaux. Please forgive me."
John scrunched his brow in shock. An apology? Sherlock stepped towards Margaux, but she shook her head. He froze as he watched her pull on her coat and leave, the flat plummeting into silence once again.
Ahhh – The inappropriate text tone broke the silence. Molly jumped in shock.
"That wasn't me, I swear," she insisted.
"No, it was me," said Sherlock.
"Really?" said Lestrade.
"My phone."
"Fifty-seven," John began. "Fifty-seven of those texts…"
'Mantlepiece' - the text read.
Sherlock turned to the fireplace, noticing a small red present tied with black rope. The Woman. He was fascinated by her. Her wit, her boldness, her lack of fear.
"Excuse me," he said as he took the present into his bedroom.
He opened it quickly, taking out the phone from inside and lifting it up to his face. He examined it closely. It was the phone. Her phone. He knew what this meant. He took out his phone and dialled Mycroft's number.
"I think you're going to find Irene Adler tonight," he began, momentarily interrupted by Mycroft's ramblings. "No. I mean you're going to find her dead."
He returned to the living room moments later, heading straight for his coat and scarf.
"Molly would you mind? I believe there's a body that will need a post-mortem."
Molly nodded, confused. She grabbed her coat and followed him out of the flat.
III
In the space between Christmas and New Year's Eve, Irene Adler had died and reappeared. Sherlock and Mrs Hudson had found themselves held at gunpoint in their own flat, and Margaux had not been in touch once.
The bell tolled twelve.
"Happy New Year, John."
"Do you think you'll be seeing her again?"
Sherlock lifted the violin to his chin and began to play Old Lang Syne. He wouldn't tell John he wished her a Happy New Year.
"And what about Margaux?" John added as he sat listening to him play.
"What about her?"
"Have you… heard from her?"
Sherlock turned his back on John. He gazed out the window onto the snowy street as he continued to play.
III
He returned from the lab where he had been running tests on Irene Adler's phone. Walking up the stairs to 221B, he played with it in his hand. What could the pass code be?
As he reached the top of the stairs, a familiar scent surrounded him like a cloud. He felt the hairs on his arms prick under his sleeves. He turned the corner and walked towards the front door, pushing it open to see her standing there. Her glassy amber eyes fixing on him almost immediately.
"Margaux."
"Hi."
He instinctively moved closer, surprising himself with his own need to be near her.
"Mrs Hudson let me in." She was nervous. "I don't know what I'm doing here; I left work and got in a cab and then I was outside your building. I don't know why..."
"Well... it's nice to see you."
"Yes. You too. And Happy New Year." She smiled.
He smiled back. "Happy New Year. And Margaux... about Christmas..."
"It's okay. It's fine."
They stood in silence. Their own comfortable silence that no one else would understand. "Well you're probably busy, I'll leave you to it." She walked past him towards the door, stopping before she left. "Oh actually, before I go, I think I left a necklace here a while back. I've been meaning to get it back but I keep forgetting. Can I..." She gestured towards his bedroom.
"Of course."
Margaux walked through the kitchen to his bedroom. She opened the door and immediately felt the air leave her chest. In his bed lay the woman. A beautiful, dark haired woman, sleeping peacefully in his bed. She tried to pull the air back in but it wouldn't seem to reach her lungs. She left quickly.
Sherlock watched as she walked back into the living room. Her eyes were teary, the colour had drained from her face. Something was wrong.
"I read too much into things." She said, choking on the lump in her throat. "I know I said I wouldn't and I've acted like I haven't. But this really hurts. More than it would hurt if you meant nothing to me."
Sherlock was baffled.
"So I'm going to go." She nodded, holding back tears.
"Margaux, wait, what are you talking about?"
Irene Adler stepped into the living room wearing one of Sherlock's robes. Sherlock looked up at her, what was she doing here? Then he closed his eyes and sighed.
Margaux looked back at Irene. "I'll get out of your way."
"No. Margaux. No…" There was a panic in Sherlock's voice as she left the flat.
Irene stood calmly, watching her leave, admiring her body. She took a sharp intake of breath and let out a soft whistle. "Who was she and does she want a job?"
"Shut up." Sherlock snapped.
"I've got clients that would drop to their knees for a girl like her, just like that." She clicked her fingers.
"I said stop it!"
"Ah, does Sherlock have a little crush? Well I'm heartbroken. I really thought we had something going on here."
"What do you want?"
"Your help," she answered quickly.