Irene watched Sherlock come out of his room. She heard the door shut softly. He had a look in his eyes that said he was over thinking something. Irene smiled to herself; she stared at the television screen in response. She didn't want to give the impression that she was on to him.

Her phone buzzed, and she read the message. I see you haven't made your move yet.

I've told you before. I won't be.

I find that hard to believe, Ms. Adler. Not when your sister's life is on the line.

Irene lurched in her chair. Addie? How did he even know about her? Touch her and I'll kill you.

The only one who's going to die here will be Mr. Holmes.

He's already dead.

Is he?

Irene shook her head. She wasn't aware that Sherlock had been watching her over her shoulder, acting like he'd been making himself something to eat. His eyes widened at the messages. Sister? Irene has a sister? He stared with shock in his eyes, trying not to believe what he'd seen. He figured there were things he didn't know about her life; she was beyond difficult to read. He wanted to know more about her, sure, but not under pressure like this.

Secretly, Sherlock knew he loved Irene. He wanted her more than anything in the world; she was his world. However, things between them weren't there yet. Besides, their personalities were too sarcastic to even think about the possibility of a legit romantic relationship.

Irene glared at her screen, contemplating how to respond. Surely this was informing the "Sherlock-imposter" about her hesitancy. If she responded too quickly, her sister could die. However, the same outcome could be achieved if she did the opposite. She had a funny feeling this person was a good mix between Moriarty and Sherlock. She just didn't know how much. He could be. With Sherlock Holmes, the possibilities are endless. Taking careful notes?

Sherlock snorted, quickly covering his mouth. Irene whipped around, staring at him with a mix of hurt and anger. She couldn't believe he'd been spying on her like that. How much did he read? Was his snort because he thought her response was funny? Irene had so many questions bursting through her head, she felt a headache coming on. She noted the fear in Sherlock's eyes, though, and felt a sense of warmth when he rang his wrists. "I'm sorry, Ms. Adler. I shouldn't have been eavesdropping."

"That's right." Irene stood, shaking. She felt like they were back in his room all over again. He'd been right. They were nuclear. All they ever seemed to do was fight. Maybe they weren't supposed to be together. However, Irene knew she wanted to try. It would be a conscious effort, but it might work. "You should've just asked."

He shook his head. "How do I know you would've told me?"

"Why must you always answer me with a question?"

"Why must you think I always ask questions?" He said it like a statement, however, she knew it was an inquiry. Sherlock never answered questions, unless they were stupid.

"Just answer me. That's all I'm asking from you, Sherlock." Irene stepped near him. Sherlock shook his head slightly, looking down at their hands, which she'd intertwined with hers. "Please."

"I don't want to ask you. I want you to tell me on your own terms. When you're ready."

"Well, you obviously figured that I had a sister," she murmured, glancing at her phone. It had yet to buzz again, and she was thankful. Irene didn't want anything to disrupt her time with Sherlock. "But that's not all. Can't you just deduce everything about me?"

He shook his head. "No. That's the problem. I can't deduce anything about you. That's why I ask so many questions."

"Oh." Irene nodded, looking into his sharp eyes. "Let's see. My parents were both born into royalty of some form. My mother, French. My father, British, with some Russian backgrounds. They divorced shortly after I was born, leaving me to be shuffled around throughout my young years. I never understood why my parents split up until I became a teenager. Then, my mother introduced me to the family business."

"Dominatrices."

Irene nodded. "She taught me everything from kissing to how to properly use that riding crop I so cherish. I took over some of the clients who didn't pay as well; she said they would settle for anything. Gradually, I ventured to my own clients. High school acquaintances, teachers, employers, etc. My father soon found out, and threatened to expose my mother in order to have full custody of me. By that time, I had my own client base, even taking on some of my mother's wealthier clients. I had made a name for myself by the age of eighteen. Sadly, I enjoyed the money and power too much for me to stop even if my mother was turned in. My father knew that, so he let it be. I went off to college on my own, continuing my business."

"So why don't you have contact with your mother now?"

"I may've enjoyed the money and power, but I hated her for turning me into the kind of monster I'd become. Even more so when she told me I was a disgrace because I apparently 'took her clients away from her.' She hated me, and so I changed my name and went on with my business." Irene stepped away from Sherlock, walking back into his bedroom. "I haven't talked to her in years. The same with my father. I moved from the house in Ireland to London under the radar. I still keep tabs on my father from time to time."

Sherlock followed her and sat down next to her. "And does your sister know about all this?"

"A little. She's my half-sister, from my father's third marriage. My mother was his second. I was his only daughter until I changed alias's. Her name is Addison. She's a real sweet girl; she'd be great at the family business. However, I can't put her through that. I see what it did to me, and I don't wish that on anyone."

"So how in the world did you venture to Irene Adler?"

"Adler came from Addison. I figured I'd pay her some tribune. And Irene was my grandmother's name. She was a real sweetheart to me. She was the second dominatrix in our family, but she stopped early because she wanted a life and family. My mother only married and had me to keep the legacy going. My father wouldn't agree to have me unless my mother married him."

Sherlock smiled softly. Eventually those women had to know there'd come a day when one of them would rise against the practice. Sadly, this woman had to become a completely different person in order to survive. He looked at Irene and ran his fingers down her arm. Staring into her eyes, he knew that this moment had ceased to exist. One small lapse in their tough-as-nails relationship was enough for awhile. Soon it would come his time. But not right now.

There, you mushy romance people. One chapter dedicated to the romantic side of their relationship.

You're welcome.