(So this chapter is filled with fragments from 'When I Say Run, Run'. I thought these were essential to build up what's to come. Enjoy lovelies! I appreciate the reviews. xx)

I... I l-," Sherlock wanted to tell her. He wanted her to know how she made her realise something. His emotions, his thoughts... He had seen this before. Watched it closely as he studied its dynamics. He looked at himself in the mirror and he bore the expressions John had when his friend thinks about Mary.

"Don't." Irene replied. "You said it was simple yet destructive, remember? And we are not simple. Destructive, maybe."

"Beyond it... Aren't we?" Sherlock asked and Irene smiled.

"Beyond anything else."

"Mr. Holmes, did you like the surprise?" said Albert Norton as he approached Sherlock. The detective eyed him grimly, fighting the urge to spit on his smug expression.

"Oh, is that what it was?" Sherlock replied coldly and Albert frowned, sipping from his glass of wine.

"Don't pretend you saw that coming. I saw the look on your funny little face." Mr. Norton spat, his finger circling the edge of his wine glass. When Sherlock didn't reply, he continued. "The clock is ticking, Mr. Holmes. Don't you think I wouldn't notice that days before my clients are summoned in court, their get-out-of-jail-free card suddenly disappear? Stolen, burned, hacked... Really now? Of course, there has to be a rat nearby." he eyed Irene. "And just when I needed someone to blame, Lucia was seen visiting you, probably rattling you bed all night long."

"And I thought you were a busy man." Sherlock hissed, his eyes glinting with defiance.

Albert Norton studied him, leaning in so close that he was just a breath away from Sherlock's face. "If I go down, I'll drag that skank with me."

"What makes you think I care?" Sherlock replied.

"I know you do." Mr. Norton hissed, stepping away from him. "Enjoy the night, Mr. Holmes."

"Oh, I will." Sherlock muttered, drinking in the last of his Champagne. He saw Irene looking at him, a distraught expression in her eyes that he knows only the two of them understands. There was something different about her tonight, caution and hesitation evident in her movements.

He gave her a nod, subtle to not be noticed by anyone else but bold enough for her to get the message.

He must take his leave, must plan out the next move to be made.

Sherlock rolled her over as he stepped out of the bed, grabbing his dressing gown on the floor. "Vegetable omelette?" He asked and Irene nodded, wrapping the sheet around her body as she followed him.

"No case?" Irene asked as they sat in the kitchen.

"Nothing worth my time. Most are fives..." Sherlock replied, sipping tea.

Irene watched Sherlock as the detective reached for the newspaper and started reading. She could feel a pit in her stomach. She will leave him, eventually, and she shouldn't pretend that this... the domesticity... this happiness that she was feeling would last. Circumstances would always be different for her and Sherlock-and yet she couldn't quite get the courage to let all of this go just yet.

Sherlock returned to 221B, his mind fleeting wildly at the next step to be done. Seven days. That's all that's left and the ledger with Norton's clients weren't even half as accomplished. A pile of data were still out there, waiting to be exposed at the right moment.

Loosening the tie on his neck, Sherlock slumped to his chair, hands running anxiously over his hair. There was one option. One. And it has to happen.

Mycroft must help him resolve this. As much as he hated asking for assistance, only Mycroft has the power to overturn a decision once made. Irene shouldn't have been involved in the first place. His prick of a brother is at fault once more. What's new?

You got hit hard, Sherlock." Mary said, reaching for baby Lizzy.

"Are you going to marry her? I love weddings!" Mrs. Hudson added.

"She'll leave eventually." Sherlock replied, his tone grim, making everyone's expression turn sad.

"Then why is she here?" John asked sincerely, noting Sherlock's somber expression.

"Refuge. We didn't exactly plan...this."

If there was one thing he didn't hate Mycroft for, it was bringing him to Irene's path. It was unconventional, for he never thought he would be attached to someone this way. Irene was a face of beauty and grace but it was her mind and skill that burned through him deeply. It was the way they could speak without speaking, only thoughts colliding mid-air that made him ecstatic of her. She was never just a physical being... She was like an extension of his mind.

It bothered it as much that she never got to tell him what was wrong earlier. It was devastating that he never got to read what she was trying to say. But she was always a mystery, always a block his mind could not wrap upon.

"You muttered her name in your sleep sometimes, you know. Whenever you fall asleep by the couch or your chair, I could hear you whispering her name." John announced, making Sherlock's face go red. He was unaware of this... All of the suppressing and the dismissing and still Irene has the ability to dominate his unconscious.

"Why are you so sure that I... That I love her?" Sherlock asked, almost shyly. He was never a believer of romance. He thinks that marriage is unnecessary-but Irene Adler always pops into his mind when such questions rise. 'Beyond everything' as they call what they have because it was true. It was more complex than love-it was a thirst for intelligence and mystery and danger and something that is more inexplicable than the idea of holding onto someone as if your life depended on it. They weren't invested in senseless tears and illogical behaviour... They were different.

"Because as someone who belongs to the selected few who you showed your true, kind and caring self... I know what it's like to be loved by Sherlock Holmes and I've seen you like that with Irene." John replied, scrunching his eyebrows. "That sounded awfully uncomfortable but you get the point."

Was Godfrey Norton in on the trick too? That languid, almost too-harmless look on his face, the act of being a fanatic, it was almost too conspicuous. A trick of the mind, a play of the hand-it was like a poker game disguised as a chess match.

The younger Norton also hit Irene-that bruise on her face still visible in Sherlock's mind. There was something he was missing, not quite sure what, but if another thing comes closer to a surprise, the entire game will shift and Sherlock was not sure to what extent he could still play.

He brushed her cheeks softly, staring at her beautiful bare face. He never thought he deserved anyone in his life and yet somehow, Irene Adler felt just right.

The stillness of the night continued, his mind almost bruised with information. Irene's life was not the only one on the line. His own was also tipping off a scale pf judgement, the murder of Magnussen still on hand. If there was one thing he hated, it was someone holding him by the neck. Mycroft has done it their entire childhood and, as ironic as it may seemed, history was repeating itself.

Agitation rose upon his head, almost throwing and shattering his mind palace to pieces as he felt Albert Norton's ticking time bomb pressuring him deep. It was exciting and pathetic at the same time, draining and empowering.

*BEEP*

Sherlock picked up his phone, Irene's name appearing on the screen.

I'm here in 221B.

He checked his clock, 3AM flashing brightly. Irene wasn't supposed to be here, not at this hour or in any time at all.

Rushing down to stairs quietly to not wake Mrs. Hudson, he greeted Irene with an alert expression. She slid in quietly, almost leaving him by the door as she paved her way to his sitting room.

"You're not supposed to be here." Sherlock hissed as he followed behind her.

Irene's face looked exhausted, her hair loose and messy unlike earlier in the party, her eyes almost drowned with panic.

"Albert Norton's been watching Baker Street and he'll know you came by." Sherlock continued, his voice swift and exasperated as he paced his flat. "He will do everything for this wedding to push through. We'll come up with a way to postpone it, but he is sure to have a backup plan. Therefore, what's left to do is to push through with the marriage. Lucia Bennett is just a pseudo-identity, we could deal with the nullity of the marriage after but you have to act the part. The ledger is still quite full and this case could extend for weeks or months..."

"No! It can't!" Irene exclaimed, making Sherlock lose his train of thought, his head snapping to her direction.

Sherlock walked to her, his hands brushing her arms. "Why not? It's the only thing that will keep you safe for now. Act the part. I could work on this as swiftly as I can but..."

"No, Sherlock. It couldn't last for months..." Irene spat, her eyes agitated. "I couldn't marry Godfrey Norton."

"I'll have Mycroft take care of..." Sherlock started but Irene shook off his touch.

"You don't understand Sherlock. I can't marry him..." Irene said firmly, her eyes meeting his. "...because I'm pregnant."