"Jesus, Sherlock! Another fit like this and you can't ever play the violin again." John mused as he shook his head, watching Molly put bandages around the detective's long fingers. The wounds he got from shoving the flasks the other days bled once more as he slammed his hands on the table when Irene left.
Not the first time, the second.
As soon as she disappeared from behind the door, Sherlock decided that he should go after her. He missed that chance four years ago but he wouldn't do that again. Running after her, he stopped halfway, catching her leaning against the wall with her shoulders shaking. Their eyes met, hers glistening with tears and his alerting in confusion.
"Irene..." Sherlock said, surprised at the gentleness of his tone.
Irene wiped her eyes harshly, putting her hands in front of her. "Don't. Just don't."
Sherlock's hands trembled, his heart quivering in despair. No. He wouldn't do this anymore.
He walked over to her hastily, taking her face in his hands and crushing her lips against his. Leaning her deeper into the wall, he could feel the protests of her hands weakening against his chest as she started to return his kisses.
Running his hands on her hair, both of them slammed against each other, a certain urgency rising at the top of their heads.
Suddenly, at the verge of the moment, he noticed the hard sobs escaping Irene's lips.
"No... Sherlock, I'm getting married. I'm not taking back what I said earlier. I'm sorry. I have to go." Irene insisted, pushing him away.
"This is just a game, is it? Your revenge?" Sherlock called after her, unable to help himself. She was torturing him, making him unlike himself-making him a fool.
"Revenge?! I- well, if this is what you think it is, then fine! You are the great Sherlock Holmes, aren't you? You're always right." Irene spat. "After all, you should've known this was all a ploy. Sentiment got the better of you."
"I should've never... If I only knew... Well played, Ms. Adler." Sherlock replied coldly, wanting to hurt Irene as much as it hurts him.
Irene just stared at him, her eyes clouded with something he couldn't read. Finally, after what seemed like eternity, she turned away and left him all alone, the darkness of the morgue enveloping him.
"Sherlock, you have to understand. She might be going through something." Molly suggested.
"No. She isn't." Sherlock replied, his eyes murderous and cold.
/
Irene looked out the window, heavy rains blurring the street. Preparing a cup of tea to calm her nerves, she sat by the fireplace, warming her hands.
As the fire danced in front of her eyes, Irene felt her heart swell. The memory of Sherlock Holmes taking her pulse, the fire causing his blue eyes to blaze stung her deep.
She remembered the way he looked at her last night, his eyes tainted with hatred when she pushed him away. Does he know that when she said she had never loved anyone quite like Godfrey, she was just saying that to protect him?
Of course not. Sherlock may be smart-logical-but even if he feels for her, Irene figured he was still oblivious to the matters of the heart.
Couldn't he read through the inconsistencies of her actions and words? Is he clouded with that much pain?
Irene bit her lip, almost tasting blood at her attempt to seal a cry. If hating her was the only way to keep him away from all of this, then so be it.
She wanted to hate him too. Why couldn't they be normal people who would throw away logic and just fight to be together?
Why?
Why?
Why?
And why didn't he come after her?
But then again, Irene found herself answering her own question. They weren't like other people-ordinary people.
What they have is "beyond everything else."
If only she could tell him how much her heart leaped at the sight of him that night in Orrery. If only she could tell him how much she missed being in his arms when they danced.
Irene almost dropped her teacup at the sound of the doorbell. Expecting that it was Godfrey paying her a daily visit, she breathed deeply and tried to put on a fake smile before opening the door.
To her surprise, Godfrey Norton was nowhere in sight.
"Ms. Adler, we need to discuss some matters-again." greeted Mycroft Holmes with a smug smile.