"You have a variety of clothes in here. Do you wear them all?" Irene asked as she rearranged the detective's closet to fit her own wardrobe. Seeing a pile of leather jackets and denims, Irene pulled one out, smiling in amusement. "This would look rather good on you. Of course, I'd rather prefer you wear nothing at all." she teased.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "If I ever needed to be in disguise for a case, I make sure my closet is well-stacked with... costumes."

"Well, you certainly fooled me with that vicar-look you wore the first time we met." Irene mused, re-folding the jacket she pulled out. Sherlock raised his eyebrows as if to protest, then figured it was a sarcastic remark. He smiled.

Sherlock sat on the bed, watching Irene through his periphery as he pretended to read the morning paper. A few weeks after she appeared in Baker Street, both of them somehow became civil. Less shouting, less arguing-he could actually tolerate her. He smiled at the thought.

/

The detective was wearing a peddler's hat, a grey shirt topped with a leather jacket matched with rugged jeans and dark shoes but it was not the most disturbing about his attire-on his hand was a carpenter's toolbox.

Lowering his hat to cover his head, Sherlock told Irene to shush. Nodding slightly, she let him slide through the door.

His head hanging low, Sherlock gave Irene a pointed look.

"Pretend you're giving me instructions." Sherlock hissed.

"Okay. But will you tell me what's going on?" Irene replied, a made-up smile on her face as she gestured her hand towards the sitting room.

Sherlock rummaged through the surfaces around the house, high and low, his eyes alert. "I believe your future father-in-law has you on surveillance."

To his surprise, Irene laughed. "Do you actually think I trust him? I already checked the entire house."

"Well, I'm checking again." Sherlock hissed.

"No need. Haven't you noticed the dust?" Irene mused.

Sherlock looked at her, then surveyed the layers of dust on the surfaces of the house. His mind clicked, remembering the time when Irene asked him why he doesn't like her dusting back in Baker Street. Dismissing feeling pleased because she remembered, he shot her a glare.

"Well then... I guess I'll take my leave." Sherlock muttered, crossing the living room to head out the door.

Irene stepped in front of him, her arms crossed on her chest. "He asked you to investigate on me."

Sherlock looked at her, his eyes cold. "And my brother asked you to spy on them. Why? To get back to London in exchange of information? Money? Or did Mycroft promise you he'll give you a clean slate and you can be Irene Adler again-to not hide behind this fake facade, an ordinary Opera singer from New York?" he spat, agitated. Despite the concern he felt for her safety, it dawned to him now that of course she wouldn't be back without help. Her protection program clearly stated that she could never go back to London and yet here she is. Of course Mycroft is responsible.

Irene, on the other hand, felt her chest swell at Sherlock's every word. Putting on a brave face, she gave him a smile. "You're getting this just now?"

Surprisingly, Sherlock smirked. "And then again I also know your lying right this very moment."

Irene glared at him as he took another step closer to her. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You know exactly what I'm trying to say. Mycroft has practically begged me to take on this case and then you conveniently show up just when I said no. Coincidence? I don't believe in those." Sherlock said, his voice almost a thrilling whisper.

Irene stepped back, internally trying to compose herself. Sherlock should never find out or else it would just mean more trouble for him. Pushing him away was the only way to ensure his safety. "Can't you just accept that I've moved on? Albert is old and dying... Godfrey is his only son and by marrying him, I couldn't care less about being Irene or Lucia anymore. I would have power, money-anything. Don't make this about you, Sherlock. Not everything is about you. And what happened four years ago means nothing to me." she snapped, attempting to anger Sherlock once more.

At that moment, multiple things happened at once. Blue and grey eyes blazing at each other, both blurring in heightened emotion. Irene felt her spine tingle upon seeing Sherlock slam his hand, the proximity and force almost taking her breath away in fear and nervousness. Sherlock felt his head buzz, Irene's words igniting in him a flame that burned within him like the rivers of his own hell.

Both took them by surprise, their lips crushing against each other in such desperation, bodies slamming in frustration as they gripped onto each like the air they breathe. Sherlock felt all his anger strip away from the moment he initiated kissing Irene, relief filling him as she returned it with the same passion.

From the moment he figured out that Mycroft has been playing him like a pawn, he knew Irene was lying to him. Not to be ego-centric but he knew he would do the same for her. Choosing the logical thing to do was something they were hot-wired to do, wasn't it?

Irene felt herself panic as Sherlock launched himself at her, initially thinking that he will hit her. As soon as his lips touched hers, a moment of resistance enveloped her, but soon vanished when his tongue slowly ran down her mouth. Months and years of waiting to be in his arms and it all fell right in this moment-a moment when they spat insults at each other in the intention of keeping each other safe-and yet failing to commit.

Sherlock slid his hand down Irene's arms, to the hem of her dress, his fingers trailing her bare thighs. His mouth lowered down to her neck, his tongue running to the back of her ear.

Irene moaned, her fingers shoving away Sherlock's hat and leather jacket with the detective's help, her hand sliding underneath his shirt as she felt the heat of his smooth back.

Sherlock slid the zipper of Irene's dress open, kissing her mouth passionately as she shook the dress off her frame. Raising his arms to let Irene slide the shirt off him, Sherlock wrapped her legs to him as he scanned the house to find her bedroom.

"Upstairs. 2nd door to the left." Irene breathed, meeting his kiss once more.

As he carried her up the stairs, Irene bit his lower lip slightly, her tongue running through his teeth, making him groan. Reaching the bedroom, they both slammed onto the bed, one on top of the other, with Sherlock removing the front-clasp of Irene's bra and throwing it off the bed. Leaning towards her, he nuzzled her neck, sucking the skin ever so lightly as he trailed kissed down to her chest, his tongue running over her collarbone.

"Oh Sherlock." Irene gasped as his mouth lowered to her breasts, one hand kneading her passionately. He sucked and grazed his teeth intimately on her erect nipples, burying his face in them as Irene curved her back, her chest meeting his lips welcomely.

Irene's head was thrown back as Sherlock slid down her smooth abdomen, his fingers taking off her knickers away.

Irene, taking Sherlock's momentary pause as a signal, rolled him over and made her way to push away his trousers and his underpants. Both marvelling at the image of each other, their eyes full of desire and the pain of separation, Sherlock reached up to Irene and pulled her to him, their bodies colliding as they kissed each other passionately.

Sherlock groaned as Irene trailed kisses and bites to his shoulders, her fingers digging to the flesh in his back as he returned the same action. Laying her down and brushing her hair away from her face, Sherlock buried his face on Irene's neck as he slid into her, like a bow against the strings of a violin. Slowly at first, then picking up his pace, he felt her meet him halfway, their bodies crushing into each other deeper and deeper at every clash.

Irene moaned and screeched as she felt him inside her, her lips kissing his forehead, his cheeks and his lips at any chance possible, given the moment. She could feel heat build up inside her and judging by Sherlock's expression, he was near his peak as well.

Pushing into her faster and faster, Irene felt Sherlock explode inside her as she was to him, his body falling over her as they both hissed each other's name. He rolled over, taking her by the waist as he did so, and Irene placed her head over his chest. She could feel his fingers on her hair, his breathing heavy.

"How did you know?" Irene asked, looking up at him as she also catch her breath.

Sherlock softly smiled. "I didn't, initially. I actually believed you were... happy with him."

"But?" Irene asked.

"I felt your pulse when we danced, when you returned my kiss at the morgue... Even if you denied, even if you tried to hurt me as I did today, spitting those words at you- are we really that easy to fool?" Sherlock replied. "Then there's my prick brother, which completes the equation."

Irene's eyebrows furrowed. "But I still have to be with Godfrey. To be wed to him, if I must. I don't want you to get involved too much. You can take this case but not to the point that you'll personally be within their radius."

With that Sherlock's expression shifted. "You'll still marry him."

"If it falls to that, yes." Irene replied.

"Then this case must end sooner than it should be." Sherlock breathed. "You know you can't keep me off it. Not now."

Irene rolled her eyes, but she knew deep down that whether she pushed him away or not, Sherlock will never back down especially since Albert personally challenged him.

"This is a mistake." Irene whispered.

"I know... And it will never happen again." Sherlock replied grimly, still his arm around Irene.

"Another goodbye?" Irene asked.

"Something to keep before whatever else happens." Sherlock answered.

They were silent for a while, eventually falling asleep in each other's arms, both eyes tear-stained, suggesting they were sharing the same dream.

Who would have thought that despite failing to end their connection with sharp-edged words and rekindling the way their hearts and minds weave through each other, it would still end in goodbye?

Suddenly, their slumber was broken by a ring from the doorbell.

Then another came.

And another.

Irene and Sherlock stirred awake, both wary of the escalating sound. As Irene peeked through the window, she cussed in panic.

"Godfrey's here."

/

(Hey everyone! It's my first time to write something partially explicit for a love scene so I apologise if it's crappy and sh*t. Hope you like this chapter! This will be a huge turning point for the story so keep your eyes peeled! xx)