Sorry for the wait, please enjoy this up-date.

Chapter 9

The attack made the front page of the Police Gazette the following day. Tony glanced at it before frowning and throwing it to one side. It was the last thing he needed right now. He looked at the roughly drawn schematics in front of him and his frown deepened: how was it that he was able to build the MK 1 in a cave and yet he was completely stumped trying to fix a few measly repairs in this time period?

A nicely timed distraction came in the form of John and Sherlock a couple of seconds later. The detective barged into the room in a rage, slamming the door into poor John's face. The doctor merely shrugged it off and followed the other man all the way across the room to the bed-room, where Sherlock had tempted to slam that door only for John to grab him by the back of the shirt, haul him away and into his arm-chair. Sherlock sloughed into the plump cushions, arms folded tightly over his chest and a pout on his face. Tony carefully put down his pen to observe.

Holmes glared at Watson as he took his chair opposite. "No. Absolutely not."

Watson sighed deeply, rubbing the space between his brows, "Holmes…you promised once you were back you would go."

"I did no such thing. I promised to go to the show with you, and you alone. I will not spend my evening with…with…"

"Mary." A growl left Holmes' throat at the name. "Holmes…" John pressed his palms together, "please, please, come with us. It will give you and Mary a chance to get to know each-other…" he smirked a little, seeing Tony's interest piqued out the corner of his eye. "outside of prison." Tony's eyes widened slightly.

"I refuse!"

John was about to snap back when Tony said, "I'll do it." As one Holmes and Watson turned to face him. He looked back just as stone-faced and then smirked. "You want Holmes to go but he doesn't want to, correct?" He jabbed the pen in John's direction, John nodded, "I'm getting nowhere and very frustrated but I want to see the sights." Holmes and Watson looked at him carefully. Tony placed the pen on some papers, sat back in his chair loosely crossing his legs at the ankles and drew up his hands in Holmes's 'thinking pose' as it was known. "Gentlemen," he drawled softly, earning a flush from Sherlock…and John, "this is what I suggest we do…"

Later that night John and 'Sherlock' left 221B dressed up to the nines: Watson was dressed in a suit of dark navy, a smart hat and his brown long coat. Sherlock (who was actually in Tony in disguise.) wore a miss-match of articles: a black jacket, dark navy trousers and deep red waist coat completely the look with a black fedora, but just below the brim, if someone were to look closely, Holmes was sporting a bandaged ear. Tony quickly made sure that John's handy-work was in place: hiding the sliver ear-piece allowing JARVIS to alert them in case there was trouble, before hailing a cab. The pair got in and headed off into town to the theatre where they met with Watson's lady-friend, Miss Mary Morstan, who was waiting in the foyer looking breath-takingly beautiful in dark green with her chestnut hair up and eyes shining. Tony greeted her using the old Stark charm, earning him a dig in the ribs and warning glare from John but a sweet smile and bell-like giggle from Mary.

"I see you've managed to acquire some manners tonight, Mr Holmes." She murmured under her breath as John brought the programmes, "Who did you have to persuade to let you have some?"

Tony blinked, "I beg your pardon?"

"Oh, please. It doesn't take a genius to figure out you're…"

"That I'm what?" Mary smirked evilly, turning slightly so that the other people couldn't see and mimed smoking a pipe, then tapped the side of her head while crossing her eyes and sticking out her tongue. Tony's eyes darkened, "You think I'm high?" She shrugged, "Why you little bit…"

"Better find our seats quickly. The show's about to start." John appeared with three pamphlets in hand. Handing one to Tony, he offered his arm to Mary who smiled sweetly and followed him into the main hall. Tony stood there, his frown deepening, hands clutching the pamphlet so tightly that the edges were tearing. "Holmes?" Appearing at his side Watson laid a gentle hand on his arm and leaned in close. "Is there something wrong, Tony?" he whispered, breath ghosting over Tony's face. "Is your injury playing up, old boy? How do you feel?" He said a bit louder as other guests strolled past.

"How do I feel?" Tony carefully placed his hand over his ear and pressed the tip of the device. His face softened hearing JARVIS's hushed tones: "Baker Street is secure. Master Sherlock has retired. Preparing to shut down for re-charging. Shall I proceed, Sir?" Tony sighed in relief. "OK…Fine." JARVIS beeped in acceptance and went silent. Tony smiled at John, taking hold of his arm and leading them towards the hall, ignoring the shocked gasps and odd looks. John's cheeks took on a cute dusting of pink as they found their seats and waited for the show to start. Mary eyed the pair carefully as the band warmed up: Tony turned to her, gave her a full-on Stark smirk (that was aimed at John seated next to her) and winked. "Everything's fine."

Back at Baker Street Holmes slumped against the pillows, a half bottle of wine hanging loosely from his hand and a pipe between his lips. Suddenly there came an odd noise from behind closed doors. Brows furrowing the detective pushed him-self up and off the bed, placing bottle and pipe on the dresser, he gently pulled the door to the main chamber ajar and looked out…

He blinked in surprise, "What the deuce?"

The Iron-Man armour was standing in front of the dying fire. At his startled out-burst it turned and fixed its gaze upon him. Holmes tried to calm his rapidly beating heart: just like the first time he saw the armour in motion-It gave him warm tingles. The armour looked at him intensely for a couple of seconds and then, to Holmes' utter surprise, bleeped and stepped forward.

"No RT detected. Identification confirmed. You are Sherlock Holmes." The armour continued to advance until it was inches away. Holmes blinked against the glare of the eyes as the face leaned closer. "Where is Antony Stark?"

"I-I don't know. Wait…" Brown eyes narrowed in the red shine given off by the eyes. What? Red? In the dim light of the fire Holmes quickly looked the armour up and down, even in the shadows it looked darker…almost black. Wait… It was black armour…the only time he had seen any black armour was in the future when he had battled… "I know you…" He whispered softly, the armour backed off a little, just enough that Holmes could make out the table behind it. His suspicions were confirmed spying the dismantled red and gold Iron-Man suit. "You're not Iron-Man. Who are you?" He demanded.

The suit backed off completely, giving him room to breathe. Its arms hung still by its sides, its feet stood shoulder-width apart, "We are not Iron-Man. We are Iron-Woman, created by Chloe Moriarty."

"Moriarty? How did you even get here? I demand to know, right now!"

Iron-Woman walk forward, taking hold of his collar before he had the chance to get away, and raised a palm, "You are in no place to demand anything. We must complete our mission. It is the only thing…" The glowing circle in her palm grew brighter and Sherlock knew what that meant: he was in big trouble! He screwed his eyes shut awaiting his fate, but when it didn't come he opened them to find her looking at her hand and shaking it. "Something is wrong. We wish to strike but cannot." Inside the HUD a single line appeared at the bottom corner and she suddenly stood completely still. After a second or two she bleeped. "Directive 13 engaged."

"Directive 13? What's that?"

"We are not sure. Searching data-base..." The suit was quiet, the grip it had on Holmes' shirt did not loosen. "Entry found in old coding. Directive 13: Ensure the safety and well-being of Antony Stark."

Holmes had to smirk. During his trip to the future he and Tony had been working on improvements to the Iron-Man armour and existing coding. Tony had mentioned a fail-safe in case he was seriously injured while wearing the suit. It seemed, despite Moriarty's re-programing, Stark-Tech was just too hard for her to crack. "Well then, you're in a pickle aren't you? You wish to harm me but your programming is clearly flawed."

"Explain."

"Isn't it obvious? You know I'm not Stark. I know I'm not Stark but your programming is saying other-wise. It believes I'm your creator and so it's taking measures." He grinned, "In lay-man's terms, my dear: you can't kill me…ever."

Holmes' grin faded hearing her growl low in her voice box before lunging forward. She caught him by the shirt front again, lifting him up so his toes dragged along the carpet. Iron-Woman stepped forward, taking Holmes with her, until Holmes felt the hard wall connect with his back. The dark armour cocked its head before running its eyes over his struggling form. After a while it bleeped again, "Heart beating rapidly. Increased amounts of perspiration. Stress levels are high, far too high for the average person. You need to relax."

A strained laugh left Holmes' lips, "Relax? You're trying to kill me and you want me to—wait! What are you doing? Stop!" He looked down the small gap between him and the armour and saw the suit's hand stroking his groin. He gave a startled squeak and a whimper at an extra hard stroke. What the hell? His head snapped up, eyes wide and glistering, shocked at his reaction. "I…"

"Relax…" She purred softly. An armoured palm rested on his stomach. "Directive 13: Ensure the well-being of Antony Stark. By any means necessary." Her hands left him and Sherlock watched as they started removing every scrap of clothing he had on. "Much better."

"For what? Ooohhh…" Metal hands return to previous places, "What…no! No, no, no! You have to stop. I command you to stop! This might be one of Tony's weird kinks but it's not mine. Please stop!" The armour had spread his legs and stepped between them so they were plastered together. Slowly, very slowly it took his wrists and wrapped his arms around its neck, then his legs firmly around its waist. Sherlock whimpered as it moved away from the wall tightening his limbs and burying his face against its neck, whimpering again as he unintentionally shifted against the groin plates. "Oh, God…"

"Sshh." She cooed softly, supporting his weight effortlessly. Moving away from the wall Iron-Woman gently lowering them onto the tiger-rug, Sherlock looked up into the red gaze suddenly feeling nervous and un-sure. But all that change when the chamber was filled with a soft whirring sound. Sherlock lowered his eyes to the space between their bodies, cheeks flushing seeing the groin compartment of the suit slide open. "Relax." She whispered again. Sherlock closed his eyes and swallowed, "Good boy." Arranging them so she was between his spread knees, she grabbed his hardened length with one hand, slowly lowering its opened groin.

Feeling the tight pinch of the internal mechanics of the suit made Sherlock gasped in pleasure and pain. "No! Stop, please…stop!" He felt something cool drip onto his hard member and opened his eyes in horror. His breath caught in his throat when he realized the armour was lubricating him. A whimper escaped his lips feeling the first abortive thrust. "Wait, wait…" Holmes reached up curling his fingers around the back of Iron-Woman's head. He pulled it down so her face plate nestled against his neck. She tried to jerk away but he held firm, "That's better…R-Roll your hips a little now." Doing as she was instructed Sherlock screwed his eyes shut feeling the suits inner workings and wiring contracting around him, keeping him encased within her with each hip-roll. He gasped out loud unable to hold it in any longer. "Oh God!" He hissed through clenched teeth, fingers tightening on the back of her head, "You're a natural."

In response Iron-Woman purred into the delicate skin of his neck. Her hand snaked up to join his and pulled it away. Holmes opened his eyes and watched as the robotic female sat up and back in the cradle of his hips. He noticed that the gleam of her eyes, mouth and chest piece was dimmer now. Holmes pushed himself up onto his elbows but she stopped him going any further with a cold hand to his chest. "No. Do not move. This might be a good time to try out one of the extras we have been out- fitted with." Holmes looked at her confused. "This suit, a part from turning invisible," Sherlock's eyes widened and mouth dropped open in shock. "Can change its outer shell, using micro- holographic projectors, to blend in with its surroundings. We can be who-ever you want us to be."

"Are you serious?" She nodded. "Who-ever I want?" Another nod. Holmes smirked, (one of the things he was known for was his sense of depravity but, for what he had in mind, was taking it to a whole new level.) "Fine." The suit cocked its head awaiting his decision. "I want you to become… Chloe Moriarty."

I do love me a cliff-hanger.

If you don't like the idea of human/robot then don't read the next one. Simple.

Laters! M.x