I would like to dedicate parts of this chapter to my dear Wonderland (you know who you are.)

Enjoy!

Chapter 8

The sky was bright and the city of London was busy when a cab pulled up outside 221B Baker Street and a man and woman stepped out. While the man paid the driver the woman stood curb-side making sure that her dress was tidy and that the veil covering the lower part of her face was securely fixed. As soon as the cab had rounded the corner the man sighed in relief, the lady took his arm and together they walked up the steps and entered the house.

Once inside the man looked around hesitantly, "That mad land-lady of yours isn't gonna hit me again, is she?"

"Nanny should be out shopping. We're fine for now." The lady hissed as they climbed the stair-well. The man nodded following her a few steps behind. Reaching the door leading to Holmes' bed-chamber they stilled hearing faint voices. The woman cocked her head; a frown was visible through the thin veil. "Are we expecting company?"

"Don't think so." He replied kneeling down, peeking through the key-hole. A second later he stood with a grin in place and a finger to his lips He pushed down on the handle quietly ushering the lady inside. Once safely in the room, with the door was shut softly behind them, the lady smiled at the scene in front of them.

John was seated at a desk, that wasn't covering in papers and books, a determined expression on his face. Propped up opposite him was the red and gold mask of Iron-Man. A chess board sat between them. Oblivious to the newly arrived couple John leaned over to make his move, "Knight to Queen Five." He sat back with a tiny smirk.

The mask was quiet, then the eyes lit up with ice-blue light and JARVIS said coolly, "Pawn to Queen's Bishop Three."

John nodded and moved the white piece to the right spot. He rested his chin on his hand examining the board. Taking in the black and white pieces positions he suddenly grinned and confidently moved a black piece, "Knight to King Seven- Check!"

The two by the door glanced at each-other as JARVIS calculated his next move. Both of them studied the board, possible moves and out-comes before getting to the only solution at the same time. The man winked at the woman as the eyes lit up again and JARVIS calmly uttered, "Queen takes Knight. I believe that's Checkmate, Doctor Watson."

"What!" John stood over the board tracing his and JARVIS's moves with a finger. With a loud groan he slumped back down running a hand over his face. "How many is that now, JARVIS?"

"Games won by JARVIS: 28. Games won by Doctor Watson: 2" JARVIS bleeped quietly and then, "Good-day Mr Stark, Mr Holmes."

John nearly knocked over his chair getting to his feet. "Tony? You're back!" Crossing the room John gathered the inventor in his arms in a tight hug. "I've been so worried! What happened?" Tony smiled into the embrace nuzzling against John's neck purring softly. Behind them the lady let out an annoyed cough, they parted and John gave her a quick once-over before smiling, "Better than your last attempt, old boy." He took the lady's hand in his in a fierce hand-shake. "Good to have you back, Holmes."

Sherlock stepped back, peeling away the veil revealing a smirk. "It's good to be home." Walking around the room the toe of his boot caught something with a soft clang. He looked down confused and then at Tony. "Doing a little redecorating, Stark?"

Tony returned his smirk, "The good Doctor did some shopping for me." Coming to his side Tony held up the sheet of metal, one of many around the room, and tried to bend it. The sheet curved under the light pressure and then slowly bounced back when he let go. "Ooh, John!" He cooed, earning him a blush from the Doctor, "You do know how to spoil a gal."

"Shut up, Stark." John mumbled going bright red. Holmes found it highly amusing. The Doctor took out his pocket watch, glanced at it and then at the small clock on the mantel. He let out a sharp gasp. "Gracious, my watch has stopped! What time did Mrs Hudson say she'd be back, JARVIS?"

"I have been motioning Mrs Hudson's movements over the past few days…"

"JARVIS!" Snapped Tony while John pushed Holmes in the direction of the bed-room, helping him out of his costume along the way. Tony grabbed the hat Holmes tossed his way effortlessly and jabbed it onto his own head. "We're on a clock, just tell us."

"Very well, Sir. Mrs Hudson is expected to return to Baker Street at precisely 12:43 pm. You have two minutes before she gets home."

"Shit!"

Mrs Hudson adjusted the brown-wrapped bundle under her arm and apologised to the young lady she'd bumped into on the way home. The girl nodded shyly and ducked down a nearby side street. With a shrug Mrs Hudson climbed the steps to 221B and struggled to open the door. After stumbling inside she allowed herself to slouch against the wood. Making her way to the kitchen at the back of the house the door-bell rang.

"Nanny!" Holmes shouted. The bell came again, "The door, Nanny!"

Mrs Hudson sighed, wiped her hands on her apron and opened the door; her mouth dropped open seeing the man on the top step. "OH!"

"Good morning, miss." Dressed in one of Holmes' better suits Tony smiled at her and tipped his hat. "Do I have the right address for Sherlock Holmes? Is he in by chance?"

"Antony?" At the new voice Mrs Hudson looked over her shoulder and Tony looked up with a small grin. Holmes had appeared at the top of the stairs in his tatty dressing gown, his hair mused up and face covered in grime. He took one look at Tony and broke into a manic smile. "Antony!" Holmes took the steps two at a time, rushed up to the new arrival and hugged him dearly. Mrs Hudson stared dumbly at the open display of affection. "Your letter said Friday." He turned to the woman between them, "Don't just stand there, Nanny! Tea for our guest."

"But…he… and you…"

Holmes rolled his eyes with a sigh, "Antony is a cousin-hence the strong resemblance- on my Mother's side, over here from America for a short visit. Now tea!" Mrs Hudson squeaked and nodded, turning tail and disappearing muttering under her breath. Holmes turned back to Tony, "Think it worked?"

Making sure the door was shut and nobody was about, Tony leaned forward bumping his nose against Sherlock's, "I think I'm gonna like here, cousin." Sherlock blushed a brilliant cherry red.

The night was cold as a dark figure slipped down the back roads. Stepping in puddles, and other revolting substances, it didn't pay any notice that the ragged hem of its cloak was getting soaked as it made its way to its destination, hoping it wasn't one of many that had proven to be false and rapidly causing the short fuse burning inside to deplete quicker. It passed a group of drunkards on its way, who in their intoxicated state mistook it for something else entirely, they cat-called and hollered. The figure stopped, the hood of the cloak twisting as they turned their head.

"Oi, what a purty thing like—HIC—you doing out?"

"Yeah…youse need a man on yer arm. Right, boys?"

The figure clenched their fists tightly under the flowing sleeves, "And you think you are adequate for such a task?" Hearing nearing foot-falls they growled deep in their throat. "Trust me, gentlemen, you are not." She waved good-bye, ready to leave, when a grubby hand grabbed her wrist. "Un-hand me."

The thug chuckled darkly, "Aw, sweetheart. You can't do that, can't tease and run. Not fun." He tightened his hold and jerked her back. His expression turned to one of fright, behind him his friends let loose with a collective gasp as the hood fell away revealing her face. "What…"

"I warned you, fool." She hissed and lashed out with her other hand. A sharp crack sounded in the tiny space followed by his scream; the drunk slumped to the ground cradling his broken hand. She looked down at the pathetic sight in front of her and reached out, curling her metal hand in the fabric of his shirt. The man gave a helpless moan of pain as he was yanked onto his knees. "You are scum-bags so maybe you can assist me. Now listen closely: Where can I find Professor Moriarty?" The hold on the drunks' collar tightened and suddenly her smell receptors were over-loaded with the strong and pungent scent of urine. "Answer me and I might spare your life." She snarled softly. He shuddered, shaking his head trying to recoil deeper into his chest, in the dim light the others had managed grab a hold of some iron bars and wooden planks for weapons. She growled again pulling back a hand; fingers spread wide showing the RT palm that glowed bright red, "Where can I find Moriarty? Answer me!"

In his drunken state, recognising a threat when he saw one, the lout took a shaky breath. "He's not 'ere." He managed to croak out. She looked down at him, if she could bare her teeth she would have, and loosen her hold. "He went away. Europe or summit. Th…that's all I know. I swear!"

She stepped back and he scuttled away, hands lowering to her sides she stood still and accessed her available options. Since arriving her main directive was to find Sherlock Holmes and destroy him. That had proved unsuccessful since the Consulting Detective had disappeared with-out a trace. With no clue to his whereabouts she had been forced to slum it around London's rat-holes seeking out known locations for Professor James Moriarty. Now receiving the news that Moriarty was unreachable and unable to give her orders, had left her to fall back on her third directive.

Find Antony Edward Stark…who would lead her to Sherlock Holmes and destroy them both.

A beep resonated deep within her chest cavity. "Mission priorities re-evaluated. New mission…Confirmed. Returning to Baker Street." She stopped up-loading her new location midway when something flashed at the bottom of the HUD 'Directive 13.' Quickly running through her programming she found no reference to the unknown directive and took it as a slight system error; she would do a system check later. After the up-load completed she quickly realised something of vital importance. "For mission completion to be a success; the rules must be followed."

"What rules?" One of the other men gasped out holding up his bar like a sword. The group backed up towards the mouth of the alleyway. "And are you, a she-devil?"

Eyes burning deadly red she walked towards them confidently, torn hem flowing around her ankles. "I am more than you can begin to comprehend. I am the shadows, I am the nightmares…" The men shared confused glances; she titled her head slightly, regarding them and stepped closer. "I am Iron-Woman. And as you're so interested in the rules, they are simply this…" Lifting her arms the sleeves of the cloak fell away, the small panels on the fore-arms slid up with a whirl exposing the mini-missiles underneath. "No witnesses." Spying the arsenal the eyes of the men widened in fear, they turned to run, falling over each other in their haste. She advanced, locking onto the multiple moving targets easily.

A second later the night air filled with piercing screams and thuds of fallen bodies.

Yeah! Iron-Woman is here! But what is Directive 13?

The next (or the one after next) will be dark. You have been warned!