Author's Note: Hello my dear readers, my exams are over, my brain is clear and now I can write this story guilt free. The person who usually helps me proof read my chapters is unavailable at the moment so... I apologise in advance for the few *cough* lots *cough* grammatical errors you shall encounter. And now cue Irene:
Irene Adler adored awkward silences. She loved the shifting movements, the way that people's eyes became restless and uncertain of where to linger for too long. And the longer the silence stretched on the tighter the tension became until people would say and do anything to make it stop. Irene had always gotten a perverse sort of pleasure from watching people squirm and now, as she watched Sherlock and John sit awkwardly opposite each other, blushing like two adolescent school girls, she felt almost giddy with happiness.
Irene had been hiding her shit eating grin for the past half hour as she watched the two stumble awkwardly around each other. On their way from the hotel to the cafe they were now sitting in, Sherlock had lost his footing slightly and had instinctively reached out for John to help him balance. The second his hand had made contact with John's shoulder both of them had sprung apart, frantically apologising and bumbling like idiots,
"I'm sorry I didn't mean_"
"No of course, I should have_"
"It was my fault_"
"You've been shot, I should have been aware_"
"You don't need to be aware of me_"
"Of course, I mean, I know that you... I know that I_"
"Boys, unless one of you plans on speaking in full sentences I suggests that you both close your mouths and keep quiet."
And they had. They had quite literally pursed their lips, hung their heads and had trailed behind her in absolute silence. Irene had found it simultaneously adorable and ridiculous.
They were now in one of the seaside cafes. There were dozens of fake plastic fish stuck onto the lime green walls and the place stank of frying bacon. A woman with skin as shiny as grease and a face that looked like it had been made of melted wax, stood behind the counter, staring glumly at every customer who handed in their order.
The sun had risen just a few hours ago and, judging by the purple rings beneath their eyes, it was clear that neither Sherlock nor John had slept at all last night. Sherlock hadn't touched his tea, instead he kept holding his fingers over the cup and wriggling them about to disturb the stream of steam. John, on the other hand, kept sipping his and then immediately refilling it to give him something to do.
Currently Irene took a sip of her tea and cleared her throat. Both John and Sherlock's heads snapped up, their eyes eager and almost pleading with her to create a distraction.
"So what are we going to do about our little predicament?"
John and Sherlock's eyes briefly met and Irene perceived a flicker of unadulterated fear mar their features.
"I assume that you are referring to Moriarty?" Sherlock said at last.
"Of course dear, what else would I be referring to?" At the sight of her dazzling smile Sherlock scowled, his face turning puce with a mixture of embarrassment and anger.
"You could be referring to any one of a number of things considering you have a way of creating "little predicaments"."
Irene clasped her hands together on the table and smiled tightly, "I don't like your tone Sherlock."
"Well I don't like people who don't play fair."
"You can only play by the rules when the rules exist."
"They do exist, you simply have no regard for them.
"Let's stop being subtle Sherlock, don't allude to what you mean, say it out loud and be clear."
"I can't, not while there is a third party present." Sherlock said as his eyes flickered pointedly over to where John was sitting.
Irene turned her attention from Sherlock and said, "John darling, do you think that maybe you could go up and order us all some eggs on toast?"
John, who had been watching the interaction as avidly as a tennis fan would watch a game at Wimbledon, blinked a few times before he opened his mouth and said,
"Err... yes, alright." He got to his feet, began to walk away and then turned back, "Um... what sort of eggs do you want."
"It doesn't matter John, Irene only suggested it so that you could leave us alone to talk about you in private."
"Yes Sherlock I gathered that."
"Then why are you asking a ridiculous question?" Sherlock asked as he turned his head to look at John. For the first time that morning they looked each other right in the eye and didn't look away. It was almost a display of sheer defiance, with neither daring to look away before the other. Irene's eyes traced John's face and saw lust and anger battling away beneath his skin. To punch or to fuck? Sherlock must evoke that particular dilemma in John most of the time.
"John dear," Irene said, drawing John's attention back to her, "You can punish him later for being rude, but for now could you please leave us to have a nice quiet argument?"
John's face reddened slightly before he turned and quickly walked towards the counter. The second he was out of ear shot Sherlock turned in his seat and practically hissed,
"What sort of game do you think that you're playing?"
"Game? I'm not playing a game."
"You told John to... to do things to me... last night."
"Yes I did, and going by the tense way that you're sitting, I'm willing to guess that he followed my instructions to the T."
Sherlock's nostrils flared with rage, "Do you have any idea what you've done? You have effectively flung us into a state of perpetual purgatory."
"Oh don't be so dramatic."
"We can't even look at each other_"
"And whose fault is that? They're your eyes, you can choose in which direction you want to point them."
"That's not the point, you are the one who orchestrated all this madness_"
"Sherlock what are you so angry about? The fact that John sucked your cock or the fact that he didn't suck it long enough?"
Sherlock looked as if he had just been slapped in the face. His eyes grew wide and his face turned a shade of bright red. Irene watched as his fingers curled into tightly clenched fists on his knees. After a few seconds had passed Sherlock said slowly, "You had no right to do what you did."
Irene leaned back in her chair and took another sip of her tea, "I didn't do anything. I simply gave John a few ideas. I didn't force him suck your cock any more than he forced you to enjoy the feeling of his tongue on your skin_"
"Could you stop saying that?!" Sherlock said as he ran a hand through his hair in frustration.
"Why? Because you don't like hearing the truth?"
"Because I don't want to be reminded of it. For the past eight hours and thirty seven minutes I have been trying, and failing, to delete that particular memory from my mind palace to no avail. Those images have been seared into my brain and that is why I can't look at John because every time I do all I see is face between my legs."
"Now who's being crude?"
Sherlock closed his eyes and let out a long sigh of impatience. He pressed the pads of his fingers to either side of his temple and rotated them in soothing circles.
"Sherlock," Irene said as calmly as she could, "Do you want him? Do you want to be with John?"
He was silent for a long moment, the pressure of his fingers dusting his forehead pink, "It is the epitome of futility to want that which you cannot have."
"And it's counterproductive to live a life of denial."
Sherlock's eyes snapped open, "I'm not in denial."
"I never said that you were in denial Sherlock, but you are denying yourself happiness_"
Sherlock snorted, "You think that my entering into a romantic relationship with John would guarantee me happiness?"
"No darling, I'm simply assuming that it would."
"I don't want things to change."
"They already have_"
"Then change them back!" Sherlock snapped loudly, causing a few of the fellow diners to turn around and look at him. "Everything was fine before you came along and whispered into John's ear, filling him with stupid notions about love and relationships_"
"Oh honey please," Irene said with a roll of her eyes, "I might have encouraged him but I didn't put those thoughts in his head. Things have been changing between the two of you for a while now and pretending that they haven't isn't fair on you and it isn't fair on John. If you continue sticking your head in the sand then you will lose him and it will be your fault."
"He's not gay."
"For goodness sake, you say that like it means something. Who cares if he likes fucking men or women, the important thing is that he wants to fuck you. I've never understood why people put so much weight on labels."
"Well, in about six months time when he's standing by the door, loading his things into a moving lorry saying "I'm sorry but I'm not into men anymore" I think labels will become extremely important."
Irene stared at Sherlock for a long moment in disbelief, "Good Lord, you either have a very low opinion of John or an extremely bad track record of failed relationships."
Sherlock said nothing, he simply stared at Irene, silently communicating that he wasn't going to continue that particular branch of the conversation.
"Alright Sherlock, I won't pry, some secrets need to be kept. But answer me this: do you really want to see him with someone else? Because he won't be able to stay with you forever in a platonic relationship. He's not like us Sherlock, he needs physical and emotional companionship. If he can't be with you then he'll be with someone else."
Sherlock clenched his jaw and stared at his hands, "I don't care."
"You don't care?"
"That is what I said Irene."
"So you'd be perfectly happy for him if he found a woman, got married, brought a house and had a few kids who would call you "Uncle Sherlock" rather than "Daddy"?"
Sherlock brought his fist down on the table, causing the cups and the tea pot to rattle and clink together, "Stop it. Stop provoking me, stop pushing. This has nothing to do with you. This is not your life. When all of this crashes and burns you'll be viewing it from afar rather than burning to death in the fire. Stop interfering in our lives and stop playing your games."
Irene held his gaze for a long moment; saw the anger mixed with a trace of genuine pleading. She almost relented, feeling that perhaps she had over stepped the mark and that maybe Sherlock was right – God knows she'd hate it if someone tried to impose their opinions on her personal life. But then she saw something on the other side of cafe that caused all thoughts of resignation to desert her mind.
It was a woman: average height, petite build, bobbed blonde hair. She was pretty, age appropriate and wearing no engagement or wedding ring. But the woman herself wasn't what had caused Irene's thoughts to derail, it was the fact that this pretty, unattached, age appropriate woman was staring shyly at John from the corner of her eye. John hadn't noticed her because he was too busy knocking the display of chocolate bars onto the floor.
Irene watched as the woman's eyes traced the curve of John's back and legs as he bent over to pick up what he had knocked over. She watched as the woman smiled slightly as John apologised profusely to the sour faced woman behind the counter and laughed quietly when he accidently squashed several chocolate bars under his foot.
It was just too much for her to resist, almost as if the Devil himself had placed this woman before her, gift wrapped and waiting to be used.
"I promise not to give John anymore ideas. I promise not to encourage your budding sexual relationship and I promise that the next time John gets down on his knees and takes your cock into his mouth, I won't tell him to stop before you cum. Happy?" Irene asked as she watched the woman stand up and disappear into the customer bathroom. Her eyes came back to Sherlock's and she smiled. He seemed a little startled but before he could say anything she said, "Excuse me, nature calls."
Irene weaved in between the closely packed tables until she reached the door that led to the toilets. The space was cramped and the smell of fake lemons battled with the overpowering stench of urine. There were two closed off toilet cubicles and the woman was occupying one of them. Irene waited, hopping up on the counter by the mirrors. She quietly ran the tap, wet her forefinger and then wiped it across her eyes, gently smudging her mascara. Then the toilet flushed and Irene quickly buried her head in her hands.
Irene listened, staring into the darkness of her cupped hands. The woman opened the cubicle door and then stopped, obviously startled by Irene's presence. In the silence that followed Irene let out a little sob for good measure.
"Um... are you alright?" The woman asked hesitantly.
Irene feigned surprise, quickly snapping her head up, "Oh yes, I'm so sorry, I didn't think anyone was in here."
The woman shifted uneasily from foot to foot, obviously wondering if she should stay or leave as quickly as she could.
"Is there any tissue paper in there?" Irene asked and the woman quickly dug into her pocket and pulled out a pack of tissues,
"These will be softer on your eyes." She explained as she handed Irene one.
"Thank you. God I feel so embarrassed." Irene said as she dabbed at her eyes. When the woman said nothing Irene continued, "It's my brother, I think I saw you looking at him, he was at the counter being his usual clumsy self."
The woman blushed a little, "Oh yes, I... yes I saw him. What's wrong?"
"Someone recently broke his heart, rather tragically really. He's been so upset, that's why me and my husband – the man I was sitting next to, I don't know if you saw him – well we decided to bring him down to the seaside for a little break. Our parents used to take us to the beach every summer, he used to love it but... he's just so unhappy at the moment."
Irene sobbed once more before she continued, "I just don't know why she'd cheat on him with that awful degenerate gambler. My brother's such a wonderful person. He's so kind and funny... but I suppose ever since he got back from the war he has been spending more time at work – he's a doctor, takes solace in helping people." Irene said, resisting the urge to roll her eyes.
The woman stood there, shifting uncomfortably, still obviously torn over what to do. Irene dabbed her eyes again before she said, "If only there was some way to prove to him that their break up had nothing to do with him and everything to do with the fact that she was a cheating slut. But you know how demoralising it can be to be cheated on by someone you love?"
The woman stared at her for a moment before she shyly nodded.
"It just makes you feel as if you'll never be loved or wanted again. He won't listen to me every time I tell him that a good, deserving woman will fall in love with him..." Irene dabbed her eyes and then made a show of contemplating something, "I wonder... oh no it's silly."
"What?" The woman asked.
"Well... I know that this is asking a lot but do you think... well... do you think that maybe you could, oh I don't know, just flirt with him a little? You're just such a pretty woman and exactly his type, it might help to boost his confidence a little."
The woman blushed brighter and opened and closed her mouth a few times before she said, "I don't know... that sounds... I'm not that sort of woman_"
"No of course not, it was stupid of me to ask. I'm just desperate, I want to see him smile again. I hate it when he's unhappy."
The woman tucked a strand of her short blonde hair behind her ear and looked at the door and then at Irene again, "I... I don't think I'd be very good at it. And isn't this a little weird? It would be strange if I just went up to him and started flirting in front of his sister?"
"I could say that you are an old friend of mine from university?" Irene said eagerly as she hopped off the counter, "You don't have to be obvious, just make him smile, please, it would mean the world to me."
The woman sighed deeply, "I... I could try?"
"Oh would you? Oh that would be so... thank you so much. God, I don't even know your name, how rude of me."
"Mary," the woman said, "Mary Morstan."
"Well Mary, I know that John is just going to love you."