Ch 21 in which our hero Sherlock is playing a chess game with Moriarty without anyone knowing his moves.
"A woman who beat you," Irene Adler said to him as he fell unconscious.
That gave her away. It was all the information he needed to bring her down to her knees.
All he needed to do was to ignore her. Even that smug text noise was her tell. She wanted to be noticed, she wanted to see that her dominance brought him pleasure, that he's intrigued by her, that he wants more.
That was all that a dominatrix needs, for her game to work, to make those she submits enjoy her dominance, that the pain brings them joy. It was a twisted world Sherlock wasn't in danger of entering.
He had his share of pain and found it anything but pleasurable. He also had his share of dominant figures in his life and found them anything but attractive. The people that tried to submit him he always despised. They could get only disdain from him.
Starting with Mycroft that dominated the whole world. If he never succeeded, in making Sherlock behave, surely that won't achieve some random selfish woman.
He even wasn't in the temptation to change her text sound. That would mean that it disturbs him, that it makes him aroused in any way. It was annoying, nothing more.
On the other side, the sound made John highly uncomfortable. That was a bonus too.
Although he ignored her, Sherlock did keep working on her case, spinning it in the back of his mind. It irritated him a bit because he wasn't at his best when it came to women who operated the world by their sexuality. He never had any interest in them and often forgot to mind that space of their lives.
Like with Molly Hopper. He would constantly forget her supposed feelings towards him. He always expected them to be gone between their meetings. That's how he again insulted her when she brought him a gift. He felt awful about it. His mind was again too preoccupied to assume the simplest option first. That's why he apologized to her. Most of the times, he considered her interest annoying because he liked her company and irritating because he had no idea how to make it stop.
Before anything more could be said, that damn noise came again announcing that Irene Adler tried to draw his attention, again.
"57," said John, Sherlock was barely listening to him.
"Sorry, what?" Sherlock made no sense of that number.
"57 of those texts, of those that I've heard," said John and Sherlock barely listened to him as he took the gift from the mantelpiece.
"Thrilling that you've been counting," Sherlock said absentmindedly, he himself wasn't counting, he was just ignoring them and their mundane contents.
The box of the gift was in the same shade as the woman's lipstick, just like Molly's gift wrap matched her lipstick. While it was a subconscious sign of affection with Molly, with the woman it was entirely conscious attempt to invoke sexual thoughts in the recipient. Sherlock hadn't had those but the box alarmed him. The gift couldn't be just some random prank to be opened randomly.
A gift box sat on the mantel for some time now, both John and Sherlock ignored it assuming that it belongs to the other. It was placed there like a time bomb. Bombs weren't the thing to open in the company so he went to his room.
As he assumed, the content was the announcement of death. The phone that was her life was in Sherlock's hands. She placed it there for him to guard and try to open but it also meant that she is dead somewhere.
"I would rather die than give up my phone," she said and he knew that death was the only thing to make her store the phone on him.
He notified Mycroft of the turn of events. John came in to pry and Sherlock closed the door on him so he could think in peace. Usually, John was very useful to Sherlock while he thought but now he would turn things too mundane, like questions of emotions, sorrow and regret.
Soon, Mycroft found a body and Molly came to examine her body.
"Did you need to come in, Molly?" he was dissatisfied to see her here, at least today she should be somewhere else.
Her reply that she had no other plans other than his party was even worse.
For how long they knew each other, Sherlock was never bothered with Molly Hopper and her lack of life, but now it somehow disturbed him, she should have found someone to keep her company.
She uncovered the ruined face of the woman and Sherlock asked to see the rest of her. The slight disproportion was there, the measurements were the same. Like the woman, while she was alive, this body had no special markings on its surface.
"It's her," he said briefly and exited.
If she died, that made her phone even more valuable open. To guess the password would be easy for anyone he knows but the woman was an enigma. It will be a challenge.
Mycroft came and offered him a cigarette. That was an unexpected treat.
"Merry Christmas," he said simply and Sherlock took it.
As they observed the family grieving Mycroft repeated his mantra.
"Caring is not an advantage, Sherlock."
Their whole life could be summed up on those words.
Earlier Sherlock agreed with Mycroft but lately, he wondered. Instead of replying, Sherlock complained about the tar in the cigarette.
"You hardly knew her," Mycroft defended himself and Sherlock snorted.
It was a relief to hear that. Mycroft knew how to make things less real, distant and irrelevant.
Sherlock considered her death as a most peculiar turn of events. He was even sad for it. She was an interesting adversary when she used her brain, not her seduction skills. Still, he didn't consider her case over because the phone was in his possession. She left it there locked to mock Sherlock.
His task was to retrieve information, to return the pictures, but more than that, he was interested in the contents of that phone. What was in there to interest Americans and Mycroft? Something good, surely. Maybe even something Moriarty related.
There was an urgent need to get a few steps ahead of Moriarty. There was no doubt in Sherlock's mind that Moriarty tirelessly worked in secrecy to put an end to Sherlock and his meddling.
While he thought about the password, Sherlock played the violin composing a new tune. It helped him think but of course, John thought it meant he's emotional. There was no point in discussing with John emotions. John thought that he's the expert of them and would never believe that Sherlock is just preoccupied with the mystery of the phone.
How to unlock the phone from a person he knows nothing about?
Why would she send it if she knows he can't guess a random number?
John stood there and hesitated in asking questions that were bursting from his posture and Sherlock thought about him. He was the only link Sherlock had to the world, he made Sherlock known and almost famous. His blog was practically an advert for Sherlock and his abilities.
What if she left a message on John's blog? A message only he would notice.
He typed in the number and ended up frustrated spending one go on a password that had no relevance.
John left murmuring in the back with Mr Hudson and Sherlock played his frustration on the violin. As he played he noticed John lingering on the pavement and then him entering a black car.
It looked like Mycroft's cars but Sherlock instantly knew it wasn't his car. He dropped the violin and grabbed his coat putting it on while he rushed down the stairs. As he tied his scarf he called out for a cab and set it to pursue the black car.
Damn John and his careless assumption Mycroft would just scoop him out of the road just like that. He did that, in the beginning, to scare him away, to test his nerves and to see is he loyal. Mycroft does that, he protects Sherlock in most annoying ways, but he doesn't send out cars without any announcement at any given moment. If he does the cars always look the same.
Sherlock's mind worked. Could it be Moriarty setting up his trap? That made Sherlock cautious. John rarely appreciated when he would gather that Sherlock is following him. Besides, he would surely do something rash if he would suspect his drivers.
No, it's best for Sherlock to assess the situation and then reveal himself.
The car stopped and Sherlock went into the building avoiding the woman that lead John in.
The building was empty and full of echo. It wasn't hard to hear John speak angrily or to recognize the woman's voice. Irene Adler was alive. That was a surprise. To find a corpse that looked exactly like her and to change records was a clever move.
"You were dead on the slab," John stated the obvious as usual but his voice had an ounce of pain in it, why?
He had to admire the boldness of it but to break her cover like this was just stupid.
"Then why can I see you and I don't even want to," even John saw that her move was an irrational one.
Of course, she needed her phone. That wasn't really smart of her to think that John would help her. To assume Sherlock wouldn't notice or that John would even try to deceive him like that was beyond stupid.
"You've texted him allot," there was a considerable amount of anger to John's voice.
Why would he be angry about the messages?
"You flirted with Sherlock Holmes?" John sounded as that is something beyond comprehension, weren't they been flirting for ages?
"But Sherlock always replies," John wasn't convinced when Irene said he never replied. "He would outlive God trying to have the last word."
Sherlock smirked. It was just like John to think of him arguing with God. Truth was that he often did.
"Are you jealous?" Irene asked and Sherlock frowned.
Was that emotion on John Sherlock wasn't able to identify? Counting messages, wondering about replies, hesitating with questions?
"We're not a couple," John said as he always did when people would assume.
Sherlock would never say anything when they would assume that because for him they were a couple. Sex wasn't needed to consider someone your companion.
"Yes you are," said Irene simply what was easy to observe.
John had no reply to that and Irene decided to send Sherlock a message. Sherlock should have moved now but he was curious to find out what else will they say.
Ironically, John considered Sherlock to the man who had to reply to everything, but Sherlock was like that only with John. That was because John had that kind of a mind, an arguing mind always trying to win an argument against the world. As usual, he didn't disappoint and kept talking answering questions no one asked.
"I'm not actually gay," he said not for the first time, Sherlock wasn't bothered by that, he never asked of John anything sexual anyway.
"Well, I am," Irene said bluntly and added her final punch to John's ego, "look at us both."
That was all predictable but unpredictable thing was the lack of John's reply. Now there should be an angry reply, anger, denial, fight, but there was nothing, just a little sigh as it would be in defeat. John never admitted defeat, never. Then the text came through and Sherlock cover was blown. He looked at the message and went out of that building.
There were so many things to consider, so many angles. The woman wanted her phone. There was a need for it to be guarded and Sherlock was the place to hide it on. If she was in need to retrieve it that meant someone else knew too that the phone was there. She wouldn't come out of her hiding if the safety of the phone wasn't compromised.
The John thing he'll think of later but it still was there underneath it all like a dull mosquito. Sherlock pushed it down to look at it later.
Now he was reaching Baker Street to find the door busted in, the marks of dragging on the stairs. The intruders were already here, quicker than Irene and her mind games.
The intruders weren't hard to overcome. In fact, facing the intruders came like a relief, to let go of the built-up energy he carried on for days frustrated with the code he can't break.
When everything was settled, John again returned to the question of Sherlock's feelings toward Irene Adler.
"So, she's alive then," John said to Sherlock's back. "How are we feeling about that?"
Sherlock paused thinking about the answer and how important it seems to John. Then the bell for the midnight rang and Sherlock used it to divert the conversation.
"Happy New Year, John," he cared very little for such occasion, if anything, but people usually did.
Still, John not only did take a hint, or politely reply, he spoke right over Sherlock's words.
"Do you think you'll be seeing her again?" John said quickly.
There was no reply to that but 'yes', he has her phone, she will be coming to claim it, but that wasn't what John was asking. John was asking does he wants to see her again, does he has feelings towards a woman. Sherlock would never have feelings towards any woman, he was very sure of that, but that wasn't an answer that would leave John feeling comfortable and sure in himself so Sherlock just kept on playing his violin.
John accepted that as an answer and sat down to listen to him play. From that point on Sherlock found it to be an agreeable New Year, quiet and in the company. Sherlock appreciated John's company more than he was comfortable of admitting. Although, his affection for John hasn't gone by unnoticed. Now even American goons knew his pressing points. John earlier at gunpoint and later Mr Hudson too. That had to be examining Sherlock from afar through second hand. They weren't even aware what were they doing, exposing Sherlock to Moriarty.
Two pressing points were found out. Sherlock would have to be careful and full of contempt before the world to protect any random passer-by from being included in the equation. Luckily, Moriarty could never understand that his first game was enough to expose Sherlock. He was out there to protect people from harm not just to solve puzzles.
For mind games, he could go to any branch of science. The thrill of being a consulting detective was that he was helping, that his actions made a real impact on the world. He cared enough for the world to try to fix it. His demeanour saved him from anyone noticing that. Even John failed to notice that.
For now, he had to watch out for John and Mr Hudson, maybe Lestrade since they were always in association around the newspapers. Three threats were manageable. He could win a game with three variables any day but one of them was John. Playing fair wasn't Moriarty's suit. Sherlock had to gain an upper hand. This play with the woman reeked of Moriarty.
Sherlock had a chance to examine Irene Adler up close. She was smart but dumb enough to use John in a way that was predictably utile, but she too lured Sherlock out for long enough for Mr Hudson to be threatened. That wasn't something she planned, she was too ego-centric to think so widely. No, she was used to luring Sherlock out, as he was probably used to manipulate Sherlock and expose his priorities.
Moriarty surely found it fun to observe Sherlock interact with someone so highly sexual like Irene Adler was. Maybe in this game, his sexual aversion was a disadvantage. Still, he couldn't see of what use any sexual experience would bring him. It was enough to be aware of the act and understand how it affects people and their behaviour, there was no reason for him to be so affected by it. More so, he was sure he wouldn't be affected by it as people are. It was just a bodily function, nothing really meaningful.
The woman seemed to understand that, she seemed undisturbed while others crawled by her feet. She even expected of Sherlock to crawl behind her.
Maybe that was needed. A small speck of attention to thinking that she has won, that he's affected by her resurrection, that his word is shaken by her elusive nature.
'Happy New Year. SH.'
That was all that he wrote and he knew that it will be enough.
"Look at us both," she said to John to manipulate him.
Sherlock had no doubt that her words were false as she was but still. If he plays her game maybe she'll slip up, reveal Moriarty behind the curtain.
The number of attempts was limited. Surely, there was another layer of protection too. That's why he scanned the phone to observe the charges within it. While he worked, Molly talked. He barely listened to her trying to ask questions without really asking. He was irritated by all the assumption that he has any kind of emotional relationship with the woman. That's why he stopped using her name, he didn't want to give them a name to circle around.
"We all do silly things," Molly said and he jumped up.
Maybe she was so silly to put his address as a password. It wasn't it and he spent another guess. He was down to two guesses. Damn that phone it irritated him. He'll find out only if the woman tells him what it is and she never will.
That gave him an idea. It was only a matter of hours when the woman will appear on his doorstep looking for her precious phone. He went out and made an exact copy of the phone and set it to reveal the password.
As expected, soon she was there. Sherlock could smell her from the entrance. Her perfume and the fresh air that came through the window she used to come in.
She talked, he asked questions. Predictably she didn't answer. It was almost getting boring. Then she finally did something smart and recognized the fake phone.
Sherlock acknowledged her skill she looked back at him satisfied by the thought that she's winning their game.
"Hamish," John interrupted their moment of waging their chances against each other. "John Hamish Watson, in case you're looking for baby names."
Sherlock frowned with the randomness of that sentence, what did that have to do with anything? Sherlock already discovered his middle name, why reveal it to the woman? But the woman quickly regained the focus and revealed them what was the picture that held such value to secret agents.
It was an email that the woman thought to be a secret code. Sherlock's mind was hungry for a proper puzzle. He was staring at that phone for days with no end now. Besides, John sat across him waiting to see him win. He had lost enough times lately to stall this.
"Come on, impress the girl," he barely registered the woman speaking.
As he looked at the puzzle, in the background was John's calm face waiting for the answer.
Suddenly, there was a tip of her nose touching his face. That distracted him only for a moment. The answer was so painfully simple that he was barely obligated to scour through his mind palace. He had all flights on the forefront of his mind observing criminals come and go, waiting for Moriarty's network to reveal itself before him.
He told them about the plane leaving Heathrow tomorrow and looked at John to see his openly confused face. Then, as usual, he broke it down for John showing him the simplicity of it all. John followed him paying attention to his words. That was sometimes enough, just for John to pay attention and understand the trace of Sherlock's thoughts for him to feel almost normal, understandable.
He got up to see did the woman understood too.
"Please don't feel obliged to tell me that was remarkable or amazing, John has expressed that thought in every possible variant available in the English language," he tried to dissuade her from flattering him in the bluntest way he could imagine.
She, confusingly, again turned his simple deduction into sexual allusion.
"I never begged for mercy in my life," he simply informed her keeping her gaze that was supposed to get him submissive.
"Flight 007," John said drawing his attention and he got alarmed.
There was something more here, something he has missed in his pursuit for Moriarty. He sat to think about it. In his mind, he talked to John as he usually did. It was quicker than to talk to him out loud. John was so permanent part of his thought process now that sometimes he wasn't able to differentiate when they spoke for real and when only in his mind.
That's why he was unpleasantly surprised to see the woman in John's place. Nevertheless, his mind kept working so he told her about Coventry Conundrum. That had to be it.
His theory almost instantly confirmed to be true when Mycroft summoned him and showed him the aeroplane full of dead bodies.
"You were dancing on the fringes of this for a long time or were you too bored to notice," Mycroft scorned him and suddenly all of his unsolved mysteries tied in together.
Sherlock was still catching up when Mycroft accused him of sentiment.
"Don't be absurd," he said to the thought he would ever dance to the woman's tune.
"Less than five seconds," the woman was behind him all smug and satisfied like he did it for her.
It was his mind's habit to solve puzzles, nothing more. It was offensive to think that he had done it for her. Still, Moriarty still didn't show his head and Sherlock still had questions.
Mycroft and the woman set him aside as he's finished with this case. Sherlock sat in the chair on the side listening to them, waiting for the woman to finally start to show off. The play was too elaborate and long for her to restrain herself for much longer. After all, as she said, she misbehaves. Moriarty can use her but he can't stop her from prancing around.
She got all she wanted, everything was in her grasp. Any moment now, and there it was.
"Jim Moriarty says hi," she said proudly like she's safe now.
Mycroft submitted to her victory as he always does. He was always a perfect servant. To their uncle in the government, then to their country. That was the reason Sherlock despised him, he followed rules and was a slave to a habit like the rest of them.
"Do you know what he calls you, The Ice Man," the woman said mockingly. "And the Virgin."
That was the information Sherlock was after. The angle from which Moriarty will strike. He'll play on Mycroft's cold side, his willingness to make compromises to get safety, and on Sherlock's unwillingness to go all the way, do whatever it takes to win.
"No," he interrupted their deal. "I said no. Very, very close, but no."
The woman looked at him still unable to understand that she has already lost. She lost in the moment when she took his hand trying to make him see her as a woman, as someone desirable. Dilated pupils, elevated heart rate. She had fallen into her own trap.
The woman always on top, dominatrix, the first thing he heard of her was her downfall. The only person to whom she would develop any kind of sentiment would be the one who is unobtainable and uninterested, someone who would dominate her. That wasn't a feat hard to accomplish for Sherlock, after all, he was immune to her charms as a man can be.
"Sentiment is a physical defect found on the losing side," he said to her firmly.
The woman fought back but her eyes betrayed her. Sherlock again took her hand, to check is he right, and there it was again, elevated.
"I imagine John Watson thinks that love is a mystery to me," he said taking her phone. "But the chemistry of it is incredibly simple and very destructive."
He didn't even have to look at the phone to enter the code he was trying to find keeping the keyboard under his fingers.
"I always assumed that love is a dangerous disadvantage," he said firmly. "Thank you for the final proof."
The woman was terrified before him, as she should be.
"I was just playing the game," she made her final attempt.
"I know," he said almost amused. "This is just losing."
He gave the phone to Mycroft still dissatisfied that he let his secrets get to Moriarty but that was the price of winning this round.
"Do you expect me to beg?" the dominatrix stopped him at the door.
"Yes," he said simply and she did.
"Sorry about dinner," he said feeling that it is appropriate since he never intended to go so far to win this round.
Mycroft set her to lose and Sherlock followed her traces waiting for his turn. Soon enough it came and he was there before it formed. The woman was now transparent to him and he knew how to predict her feeble moves to gain security. He was there at the right time at the right place saving her from execution.
That gave her all the excuses that she needed to give him all she knew of Moriarty. In return, he gave her a new identity.
"Don't be so foolish to blow your cover this time," he said to her calmly. "I doubt that it would work the third time."
"Dinner?" she asked and he had to smile at her feeble attempt to even out the score.
"Not hungry, sorry," he nodded and left her there to find another way to misbehave.
He almost forgot about it when John entered to lie weakly. Was Mycroft so foolish to think Sherlock can't read his John? Maybe he thought sentiment will prevent Sherlock from reading John like an open book he was. Sherlock was surprised that the whole world couldn't just open him and read everything that was hidden.
Maybe it was the best that they couldn't because much could be revealed about Sherlock through him.
Still, he had to check do they know what Sherlock did. No one should know because then Moriarty would find out.
Luckily, John seemed awkward and sad, he believed that the woman died. That was good. John wasn't the one that will mourn her personally and soon enough he'll see that Sherlock was fine.
"You won't be able to see her again," John said and Sherlock got confused.
"Why would I want to see her," wasn't that really transparent that he didn't like that woman.
Why would anyone assume he likes her? Even she thought so. He never acted towards anyone so coldly as towards her. If he was into women, he would much rather choose Molly Hopper and her companionship than he would the woman.
That is if he would search for intimacy, which he wouldn't.
Still, he made John to give him the phone. Their assumption of his feelings was good, none of them, neither Mycroft of John, would question his interest in the empty phone.
What they didn't know was that Moriarty had this number, and there was his number in there. Sherlock smiled knowing that he's ahead. He had an advantage over Mycroft.
'Playing the Holmes boys,' the woman said and made a dent in Moriarty's mystery.
'The Ice Man and The Virgin,' she couldn't resist.
Sherlock will have to instruct Mycroft how to play his role to reaffirm the assumption that he has no heart. No man without a heart would have to repeat how the sentiment is a disadvantage, nor would he serve his country tirelessly as Mycroft did. They will have to stifle their relationship to seem that they are arguing more than ever, to see that Mycroft won't come to Sherlock's aid.
Now all he has to do is wait.
He didn't like to think of his part of the equation. The Virgin. He never saw that as a disadvantage.
Moriarty did throw the woman at him and she failed. He has to know that angle won't work on Sherlock. But still. Moriarty was too ingenious to be discouraged just like that. It would be best if that angle is removed from the equation all together but Sherlock hated to think about that. To expose himself to such discomfort just because of Moriarty. That would surely amuse him beyond words.
Still, lives were at stake. If he had to, whom would he choose for such a task? Women were out of the question. That was pity now, Molly would be such a convenient choice, both to dissuade her from romanticizing him and to remove that difficulty.
Sadly, men were like they were, Sherlock trusted no one, they would all talk and gossip.
"I returned the file," John entered the room still holding himself awkwardly looking around of what to do. "Mycroft grunted but accepted that you took the phone," he looked up at him trying to seem innocent. "What?"
"Nothing," Sherlock smiled and noted how quickly John looked away. "Just found a solution to a puzzle."
"God knows you're good at that," John took a deep breath and went to the kitchen to clean dishes.
John rarely washed dishes but this time he washed them all not even once looking in Sherlock's direction. Life was fun sometimes.
Sherlock started to play his violin knowing that John is throwing disconcerted glances at his direction now when he had his back turned toward him. This will be good. It'll resolve John's lingering frustration with Sherlock and serve Sherlock to shed off that unfortunate title. Sherlock had no desire for sexuality but he also had no intention of being so easily dismissed and labelled.
There was no rush, surely, there will be an opportunity. After all, counting 57 text messages demanded a certain level of interest and jealousy as the woman nicely revealed what Sherlock never cared to look at.
Hm, The Hounds of Baskerville next.
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