Thirteen possible scenarios. Most of them leading to one possible conclusion.
Godfrey Norton.
"You can wipe off that worried look on your face. I bruised him right on the eye and some other place too. And with what I did, I'm almost certain we'd never have children-not that I would want any in the first place." Irene said, crossing her legs as she sat, her eyes straight and defiant as ever.
Sherlock offered her a cup of tea, their fingers brushing at the moment. Their eyes met, the contact sending chills down their spine and that exact moment, the memories of what transpired earlier that day flashed vividly in their mind.
"I know you can handle yourself just fine." Sherlock replied as he cleared his throat, going back to his chair. "Wait... Did you just say you wouldn't want to have children?"
Irene raised her eyebrows at him. "Why? Would you?"
Sherlock considered her question. He wouldn't, couldn't... His mind flashed to John and Mary and young and inquisitive Elizabeth. No. He doesn't want that. He would be a terrible parent and it would cause such an inconvenience.
But Irene's statement somehow punctured a hole in his chest.
"No." He simply replied, almost spitting the word like acid.
Irene leaned, her hand resting on her hand. "Sherlock. I'm here to discuss about... About what happened earlier."
"Yes."
With that, Irene continued. "We could never be together. We made that clear. With regards to this case, I still go by my initial proposition. Don't get involved."
"What's the deal with my brother?" Sherlock asked and Irene explained what happened that day in New York.
When he found out that he was the real reason why Irene came back, why she agreed to seal this deal with Mycroft, Sherlock almost cursed. No matter how much they try, could the two of them together really be that toxic?
And yet the toxicity is making him want it more.
"Well?" Irene asked, snapping him out of his reverie.
"What do you want me to say?" Sherlock replied, his tone grim.
Irene shook her head slightly. Putting down her cup and reaching for her coat, she pulled out a brown envelope, handing it to Sherlock. "I managed to take these before-a list of their current clients. I marked those who are in constant contact with Albert. Those are-"
"...People who have confidential information that are just waiting to be launched publicly." Sherlock continued.
Irene nodded, watching the unreadable look on the detective's face. She had always adored the way he looked so distant, his eyes reflecting the flickering fire and the intensity of his thoughts. It was almost so surreal that Sherlock Holmes had made love to her-not just once but more than what she had expected. The funny thing was, it wasn't a physical act in itself. As they moved against each other, they kept on wondering about each other's next move, about what the other is thinking and just about how they marvel at each other's mind.
"How was the past four years, Sherlock?" Irene asked, biting her tongue as she did so. Sherlock looked at her, his eyes a cross between tender and hesitant.
"Same as how I was when I thought you were dead." Sherlock replied. "And you?"
"I haven't been the same since Karachi." Irene said. "I'm sure you know that."
Sherlock nodded, feeling a lump on his throat. He stood up, walking past Irene as he headed for the kitchen but she caught his arm. Standing up to meet him face-to-face, Irene brushed a curl off his forehead.
"I thought you said it was a mistake." Sherlock whispered.
"Everything about us was a mistake... But did that stop us before?" Irene replied, her lips finding his.
/
(Two weeks later)
Irene woke up to the sound of her mobile phone ringing. Godfrey.
"Hello?" She said, her voice cracking.
"Lucia, I hope you're getting ready. The engagement party is only a couple of hours away." She heard him say from the other line.
Of course she forgot-or rather, she chose to forget. Now that she came clean with why she was with Godfrey in the first place, everything became confusing and almost senseless ever since the last night she spent in Baker Street in Sherlock's arms.
"You disturbed my beauty rest. What time will you pick me up?" Irene asked, faking enthusiasm. She and Sherlock agreed that they would put an end to this case before the wedding date comes and she decided to put up with it. A few more weeks, that's all it'll take.
"I can't. I'll meet with a couple of clients with dad before I go to the party. I'll have the chauffeur pick you up." Godfrey replied. "And by the way, I'm sorry about what happened... I didn't mean to hit you. You know I love you, Lucia."
"And I, you." She replied, rolling her eyes in the process as she ended the call. Knowing that Sherlock would be there tonight served as motivation, she stood up to prepare.
Her head buzzed badly, almost tipping her off balance. Her vision blurred and her insides churned as she ran to the loo, sour acid escaping her mouth. Wiping her lips as she washed the taste in her mouth, Irene's mind reeled.
Running to get her phone, Irene checked her calendar.
She missed her period by four days.