CHAPTER TWO: Amuse Bouche

Sherlock, having retrieved the tux from the nearby shop, headed back to the hotel. His mind was racing, his feelings in disarray. She was back. He never thought he'd see her again and the shock of actually doing so was almost too much to bare. He swallowed whatever ambiguous feelings were rising-not that he had any-donning his safe, indifferent persona before knocking at her room door.

Irene had been planning everything since Sherlocks departure. She hadn't yet had a response to her text but she knew that it wouldn't be long until she did. No one could resist her offer. Especially not him. She was applying her makeup-less than usual, she wanted her natural beauty to show- when a knock on the door broke her out of her reverie. She pulled out her phone and texted Sherlock. "If it's you then the door is open. -IA"

Sherlock checked his phone, gave an annoyed grimace and entered the room slowly. "Back." He muttered, under his breath.

Irene smiled when she heard him enter. "Change into your tux. Don't worry I promise not to peek." She called from the bathroom smirking to herself.

He ignored her remark and walked to a corner of the room. He stripped his clothes off in a technical fashion before slipping into the tux. He was surprised at how well it fit. He was a tall, lean man and this tux did his figure justice, not that he cared. He did his bow tie before grabbing some gel he had picked up at the drugstore. He ran coin-sized amount through his raven locks, parted it to the side and slicked it back. He checked his reflection in the bedroom mirror: satisfactory.

She finished her makeup with a flick of her mascara wand. She checked her reflection, turning to the side slightly. She did look great, even if she did say so herself, her glittering dress dipping low at the front and the back. She would definitely distract a lot of people, but would it be good enough for Sherlock Holmes? "Are you decent?" She called through the door.

"Quite." He responded, bored. He adjusted his cuff links, as he gazed out the window, admiring the London skyline.

She slipped her phone into her dress before opening the door swiftly. She paused in the doorway for a moment, seeing Sherlock. He looked... sexy.

He turned around to face her, still fiddling with his cuff links. Upon seeing her he started-she looked...ravishing, for lack of a better term. He eyed her up and down, his face stoic once more. "Ready?"

It took every ounce of self control Irene had for her not to jump Sherlock in that moment. She told herself that she was just a sucker for a man in a tux, to a certain extent it was true. She echoed his facial mask and nodded. "I am, are you?" She kept her voice formal.

"I believe so." He replied, checking himself in the mirror again. "Where are we to dine?"

Irene nodded, putting her shoes back on. "A small French bistro, very exclusive. Waiting list is usually a few months, however, I know the owner. Well, I know what he likes." She smirked, straightening up.

"I see." He said coldly. "And our alias?"

"Well, I have already booked a table under the name Adler." She said with a smirk. "I have no need to hide there. You, however, are Eugene Miller." She smirked.

He wrinkled his nose in disgust. "Hardly a fitting name." He muttered.

"It's no Sherlock Holmes, I'll give you that." She winked. "However, it is acceptable, Mr. Miller."

Sherlock gave her a glare before reluctantly offering her his arm. "Fine." He said, lowly. He lead them them out the room and down the hall to the lift. He was surprised by all the looks they were recieving as they walked through the lobby. He ignored them, however, and continued to lead her out the door. He hailed a cab, opening the door for her before following suit.

She observed the looks that they got with a smile, they really must look like a stunning couple. She gracefully climbed into the cab and sat down, crossing her legs. She was careful not to crinkle her dress.

He kept his gazed fixed out of the window, studying the scenery and people that they passed by. He stole a glance at her, before returing it to the window.

She kept her own gaze fixed out her window, planning. She still hadn't gotten a reply and this worried her a little. Would he be interested? Of course he would. She almost forgot her surroundings, almost forgot about Sherlock, her mind in a different place, cold and calculating.

They arrived at their destination. He got out first, opening the door for her to follow. He offered her his elbow again, leading them inside.

The sudden stopping of the cab knocked her out of her reverie and she snapped back to the task at hand, with a smile she took Sherlock's elbow and let herself be led inside. As they entered the restaurant her smile widened, it was a very glamorous place. She spotted the owner immediately and waved.

A middle-aged man, of average height and build crossed towards them. "Ah! Miss Adler!" He said, leaning in to kiss her cheek. "It's been ages! How have you been?" He asked, a wink in his eye.

"It's been too long Mr. Gauthier. You should make another appointment." She winked back at him. "I've been...well. Life's been interesting. I see you are prospering well." She gestured to the restaurant.

"Yes, business has been quite good." He gave her a knowing smile before turning to the man at her side. "And this is?"

Irene glanced at Sherlock with a mischevious smile. "This is Eugene Miller, new client." She leaned forward slightly. "He's a bit nervous, never done anything like this before, so I'm taking him to dinner first. Help him ease up a bit. Bless him" She winked at Sherlock. "Still, I'm sure you must remember how nerve-wracking the first time is."

The man nodded and smiled. "Indeed, I do."

Sherlock meanwhile did his best to control the anger that was rising. 'A client?!' He thought to himself, 'How ridiculous!' She certainly was having her fun. He repressed his irritation, and smiled at her weakly. "Shall we?" He asked, stifly.

She couldn't help but smirk at his expression. The anger in his eyes. "Of course, Mr. Miller." She turned back towards the owner. "Could we be shown to our table please?" She smiled sweetly.

"Of course." The owner answered, leading them to a private table in the back. "Here you are."

Sherlock gestured for Irene to sit first, pushing in her chair, before being seated himself. He glanced around the room, eyes dartling from customer to customer, deducing their life stories as he went.

Irene grabbed a menu and had a quick look at it before putting it down. She drummed her fingers on the table, absent-mindedly, her chin resting in one hand.

Sherlock glanced at her briefly before grabbing his own menu. He scanned the options quickly, food never being an thing that appealed to him.

He cleared his throat. "So, I'm a new client?" He asked, disgust married to his tone.

Her eyes turned to him, a smirk spreading over her lips. "Easiest explanation. 'He's a consulting detective whom I've got history with-that's pretty messed up-and neither of us ever really know where we stand. Besides, it has been a while since we last spoke, which, happened to be when he was saving me from being beheaded...' Seems a little too long as an introduction, don't you think?"

He twitched his nose in irritation. "Fine." He said, under his breath, taking refuge in the menu.

She coughed, disguising a laugh, before leaning forward and pulling his menu down. She rubbed her leg against his. "Does it make you uncomfortable having him think that I dominate you?" She purred.

He jerked his leg away from hers. "No." He spat back. "For if you remember what you said to him, Miss Adler, you'll recall that you have yet to perform your...services."

"Fine, let me amend my statement." She leaned in even further, brushing her leg against his again, whispering, "Does it make you uncomfortable having him think that you want me to dominate you?" A glint shone in her eyes.

Sherlock's jaw tensed. He did his best to ignore her leg against his, and leaned back as far as he could in his seat. "Why would that make me uncomfortable?" He retorted.

"Because it's to do with sex." She smirked, not leaning away nor removing her leg.

His nostrils flared. He looked down, studying the menu once more. That was enough. "What are you having?"

She leant back with a grin. "The salmon. Yourself?" Her leg was still plastered to his, forcing her to wonder if he would say anything.

Sherlock shifted in his seat, doing his best to seperate his leg from hers-without much succsess to his chagrin. "I'll have the same."

She nodded, rubbing her leg against his slightly with a smile. "Good." She took the menu from his hands and put it to the side.

He eyed her suspiciously. "Yes?" He asked, roughly.

"Yes?" She said simply, motioning for a waiter. "What do you want to drink?"

"I don't drink." He answered, removing his eyes from hers.

"Pick a non-alcoholic one then." She rolled her eyes.

"I'm fine with water." He replied, lowly.

She turned towards the waiter with a ready smile. Watching his eyes rake over her exposed skin, a blush spreading across his cheeks. "One water, one scotch and two orders of the salmon. Thank you." She winked.

Sherlock resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Always a display with her. He eyed her before asking, "So, why are you really here, Miss Adler?"

"In this restaurant or in London?" She turned back to face him.

"London." He spat.

She rolled her eyes at his expression. "I told you, I had business to attend to."

"With whom?" He asked, his eyes studying her behaviour.

Irene waved her arm vaguely. "People."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes, "Care to be specific?"

"No." She murmured before leaning in close again. "Why all the questions?" She asked, tilting her head to the side slightly.

"Because, Miss Adler," he hissed, "I find it hard to trust you after your last interactions with me. Hence, the questions."

She leaned in even closer, breathing into his ear. "Where's the fun in trusting someone?"

He glared at her, his eyes searching hers. "It's not supposed to be 'fun.'

She kept her gaze steady, revealing nothing, before reaching out a hand to lightly trace his cheekbone with her fingertips. "Are you not having fun, Mr. Holmes?"

He swallowed at her touch. His cheek on fire from the contact. He glanced down at her hand from his peripheral vision, before returning to her stare. "I'm having a blast." He replied, sarcasm dripping off of his words.

"Hmm..." She murmured before leaning forward even further so that their noses were almost touching. "I'll have to try harder then."

He reached his hand across the table to grab her wrist, turning it over to give his fingertips full access. He counted her pulse. Highly elevated. He studied her eyes. Pupils definitely dilated. And her breath, from what he could tell, certainly seemed hitched.

"I rather think you're enjoying yourself just fine, Miss Adler." He answered huskily.

She appeared to be unfazed by his words as her eyes darted from his eyes, to his lips and then back up to his eyes. "Yes, but are you?" She purred. He thought that these simple reactions somehow betrayed her feelings. He's wrong. She thought to herself. Yes, he was an attractive man. That's all it was. Attraction.

"Unlike some, I don't wear my heart on my wrist." He replied icily, looking between her lips and her eyes.

"Wait, you have a heart?" She murmured with a small smirk, she could feel his breath on her lips.

"Slip of the tongue." He answered lowly, "I think we both know the answer to that question."

Irene smirked slightly. "Sorry, you lost my attention after 'slip of the tongue.'"

He narrowed his eyes. "Careful, Miss Adler, you'e being awfully predicatable."

"Hmm... I'll have to do something about that." She leaned in and briefly pressed her lips to his before leaning back slightly, trying to read his expression. She knew he would read more into the brief kiss than she had meant.

Sherlock's frame tensed as he felt her lips connect with his. They were soft and moist. His shock arresting him for a moment. Sherlock stared at her blankly. He stuttered for a moment.

She looked into his eyes, enjoying the expression on his face. Her eyes flicked down to his lips again.

He returned her gaze, his eyes biting and dark. His eyes darted to her lips again, and back to her eyes. He breathed heavily.

Suddenly, Irene's phone beeped. She leaned back, startled, snapping out of what felt like a trance. She picked up her phone to find the reply she had been hoping for. She read through it. "How the hell have you managed that? Never mind, it's irrelevant. You want protection, right?-SM"

"Excuse me." She murmured, avoiding eye contact with him as she got up and walked into the Ladies Restroom.

Sherlocked nodded quickly, glancing around. He leaned back in a state of what he hoped was only mild shock. He furrowed his brow. The feeling of her lips on his still lingered on his nerves. He licked his lips, wanting to remove all evidence of her residency on them. He was at a loss for words-for once. What had just taken place was extremely infuriating and inappropriate. He was beyond annoyed-yet-he flexed his jaw at the word. No. There was no 'yet,' or 'but' in this equation, he told himself, swallowing the word along with the feelings that had arisen with it.

Irene stumbled into the bathroom, still slightly dazed. Luckily there was no one in the restroom. She took a moment to bite back any feelings-forms of arousal-she corrected herself. Sex she could deal with, emotions-definitely not. After a moment of thought she pulled out her phone and sent a message. "Of course. I would like to come out of hiding. Business is too slow. What can you offer me? And, please, reply quickly. -IA"

Sherlock scanned the room again, willing his mind to return to its normal, logical state. He eyed the waiter: lipstick smudge on collar, matching the redhead's serving table 3-obviously sleeping with each other; stealing silverware-clearly suffering from serious finacial issues-probably from student loans given his age; jittery hands and consistently sniffing his nose-cocaine addict itching for a bump, three hours since his last hit. "Amateur." Sherlock thought with a wry chuckle.

She looked at her phone, hearing it buzz. "We can offer you your usual form of protection plus a personal hit if anyone bothers you? No need to reply, we know you'll say yes. Stay with Sherlock Holmes. Make him want you. We'll discuss an exchange shortly, Miss Adler. SM" Irene grinned to herself before putting her phone away. She stalked out of the restroom, her mind focussed. She sat back down. "Sorry about that, Mr. Miller. I was booking an appointment."

Sherlock shifted in his seat, avoiding her eyes. "It's fine." He muttered.

Before Irene could say anything, their waiter came with their food and their drinks. She barely paid him any attention this time other than murmuring a quiet "Thanks." She took a sip of her scotch.

He took a drink of his water, glaring at her from above the glass. "So, you have a new client?" He asked with disinterest.

She kept her eyes on her food and started eating. "Mhm, no one of interest though." She hoped that her vague and distant attitude would annoy him. She was more likely to get a response out of him if he was annoyed. He let his guard down when annoyed.

He pecked at his food, unsatisfied with her ambiguous answer. She was up to something. "Someone in Parliment?" He pushed.

"No. I told you, no one of interest." She sighed, popping some salmon in her mouth and chewing it slowly. She drummed the fingers of her left hand on the table, bored.

He glared at her hand, the noise growing increasingly aggrivating. "If they are no one of interest" he began matter-of-factly, "Why not just tell me?!"

"Because I keep good client confidentiality, Mr. Miller." She glanced up at him, an obvious expression on her face.

He clenched his jaw as his frustration with her vaugueness began to climax before slamming his fork and knife down. "Tell me who it is!" He hissed.

She looked up at him, a little startled. A slow smile spread over her lips. "Why do you care so much, Mr. Miller?" She murmured softly.

"I don't care, I'm curious!" He spat back lowly, emphasizing the latter word.

"Ah, but if you didn't care, you wouldn't be curious" She pointed out with a smirk.

He inhaled slowly, willing himself to calm down so he wouldn't make a scene. She was growing more insufferable by the second. Especially with comments such as that.

"Don't flatter yourself, Miss Adler. It's highly unbecoming." He growled.

She raised an eyebrow at his words. And put her fork down. "Mr. Miller, if I was flattering myself I would have said that you cared about me-not my clients." She fixed him with a steely gaze. Challenging him.

"I rathe-" He was about to retort her statement with a biting remark when the waiter intervened, "Are you finished?" He questioned, glancing between the two.

"Yes, I rather think we are." She turned to the waiter, giving him a warm smile. "We'll take the bill as well."

"Right away." The waiter replied before walking away.

"Give me your card." He snapped.

She frowned at him. "I'm perfectly capable of using it myself." She said, dryly.

"I'd rather not be humiliated any more by having you pay for our meals at a restaurant of this calibre, Give me your card. Please." He responded, heatedly.

She reached a hand into her bra and pulled out a different card than she had given him before, hesitating for a moment. She bit her lip in moral dilemna. "But you don't know the pin. And the bank told me never to tell anyone."

He sighed, "Just tell me it. You can void it in the morning."

She sighed and passed him the card, it was still warm. "Fine. 8754." She murmured lowly.

"How dull." He said, raising his eyebrows, throwing his signature 'mocking' face at her.

"Someone once told me that if I had picked a random number, I would have walked out of here with everything I had worked for." She looked at him pointedly. "Just stop complaining and pay already." She knew her usual tricks would not work on Sherlock Holmes, so she was forced to make it up as she went along.

He hailed the waiter for the check, waited for him to return and handed him the card. He looked around the room, ignoring the woman across from him. The waiter returned and Sherlock punched in the pin. He looked at Irene when all was set.

"Shall we?" He asked rigidly.

She nodded to him and got up out of her seat. She straightened her dress and waited for Sherlock to start to leave.

He reluctantly offered her his elbow and lead them out and onto the street. He looked around before turning back to her. "Where to now?" He asked awkwardly.

"Well, you are staying in my hotel room." She smirked. "Don't worry though. I won't jump you or anything."

She shivered slightly in the night air, regretting not bringing a coat.

He noticed her expose skin and and sighed to himself before quickly taking of his tuxedo blazer and drapping it over her shoulders. "Here." He muttered, avoiding eye contact.

Irene looked up at him in amazement. The simple gesture struck her to her core, cutting through her cold, indifferent, calculating mind. She pulled the jacket closer around her, it smelt like him.

"Thank... Thank you." She murmured before looking away again, shaking her head slightly.

Sherlock glanced down at her before raising his hand to call a cab. He opened the door for her allowing her to climb inside before following after.

"The Ritz-Carlton, please."