Chapter 8

THE WOMAN doesn't give up easily…

"So I'm RIGHT! There IS somebody!" Irene declared, her eyes positively twinkling with delight. "Who is it? Oh you HAVE to tell me who has managed to break through the virgin's armour!"

Sherlock remained tight-lipped and merely shook his head.

"Maybe I will have to try something a little more persuasive," she said with a devilish smirk as she moved to the shelf and replaced the riding crop with a wooden cane. Sherlock raised his eyebrows and looked away, feigning disinterest, although really he was worried. He had already made a slip of the tongue with his 'back then' comment, then compounded the mistake by stuttering several times. And on top of all of that she had then managed to coax a reaction from him and it was only a visual indication, not even a verbal response. His body had betrayed him again by giving her a look that qualified as an answer, and it had not just been a reaction to the pain. He was impressed at her deductions; that she had managed to wrangle out of him a hint of what was going on.

"I'm not going to tell you any more than I already have," he stated, giving her a steely glare.

"Oh but I think you WILL!" she sang gleefully as she brought the cane down hard on his legs. This time he was unable to restrain himself and he cried out in reaction to the burning pain. He knew he would have marks all over his legs once she was done with him. It was fortunate that his upper legs were always covered as he would have some explaining to do if anybody were to see.

"NO!" Sherlock shouted, his face contorted with anger. Irene's response was another swift strike with the cane, the other leg this time.

"You know I won't give up. I never give up. You will tell me what I want to know Sherlock. Don't make me resort to bloodying that gorgeous face…"

"Why do you want to know?" he asked, deciding to delay further assault by engaging in conversation.

"Because I do…"

"Now YOU are holding something back… Are you jealous?" he said, laughing jokily.

"Of course I am. Who wouldn't be jealous of a woman that has managed to capture the interest of the Great Sherlock Holmes?"

"You captured my interest when we first met."

"Yes, because I was something different to any woman you'd ever met before. But there was never anything more than mere curiosity on your part. I suspect that this mystery lady of yours has had a far greater effect on you than I ever had. I'd like to meet her."

Sherlock stared into Irene's eyes for a moment and yet again looked away.

"I am right in assuming that it is a female? You haven't corrected me…"

Sherlock ignored her question and did not turn back to face her.

"I'll take that as a yes. I did wonder about you and John at first… such good, close friends… But no, there was never anything like that was there. He likes women and you'd never give into emotions, feelings and of course sentiment – making you weak… until now of course… I'm intrigued to know what changed. What made you give in?"

"I died Irene…" he simply replied, breaking his silence.

"Oh… and that caused you to reassess things?"

Sherlock let out a long sigh. He knew now that it was hopeless to resist if he was ever going to be released from Irene's lair. He thought long and hard about what to say, how much should he reveal to her? He didn't have to tell her who was involved. She didn't know Molly, therefore she couldn't suspect her identity.

"Yes… I have recently developed feelings for someone, since I came back."

"Well that's a step in the right direction. It's not enough information though, do continue."

"WHAT do you WANT me to TELL you?" he snapped at her, growing more irritated at having to divulge his innermost thoughts to a woman he could not entirely trust.

"I want to know what changed, how and more importantly why?"

"She was there for me when I could trust no other. Her loyalty to me is unwavering, she never for one second believed I was a fake. And although I have treated her badly in the past, she still… cares for me. She has finally come to accept me for who I am, but she doesn't know…"

"You haven't told her how you feel?"

"How can I tell her? 'Oh I know you've been in love for me for years but I wasn't interested. Then you helped me fake my own death, I came back and now I've decided that have… feelings for you?' She wouldn't believe me anyhow, she'd think that I was trying to get something from her."

"Well you would be wouldn't you?"

"Not like that."

"But what do you want from her?"

"I don't know."

"Who is she? You said she helped you fake your death?"

"I'm not telling you."

"You know I will find out. I know people Sherlock."

"Please don't."

"Oh are you begging Sherlock Holmes?" she said with a wry smile, running the cane through her hand.

"NO!"

"It sounded like it to me."

"Well I was NOT. I was merely asking for you to leave it alone. I haven't yet decided whether I am going to do anything about it yet."

Irene looked confused. "What do you mean you haven't decided what to do?"

"As you know I believe feelings are a weakness, if I give into my emotions then who knows what will happen. I could lose all that I have worked so hard to develop."

"You think that allowing yourself to have a close romantic relationship with another human being will make you more like a normal man and that, for you, would be a tragedy."

"You deduce correctly. I haven't divorced myself from feelings all these years for nothing. It was always about the work and nothing could get in the way of it. I know what happens to people in love." He wrinkled his nose in disgust as he said the last two words, as if they had the most abhorrent meaning.

"You think that you'll lose the ability to think?" Irene questioned, raising her eyebrows.

"Well, that's what happens when one becomes romantically attached isn't it? They can't think straight, all they think about is the next phone call, the next date. I saw it happen to John. When he met Mary, he couldn't function normally, his mind was often elsewhere, thinking about her."

"You actually believe that you'll lose your mind!" Irene stated before she expelled an amused laugh.

"DON'T LAUGH AT ME!" Sherlock snarled, his face like thunder.

"Why not? It's funny! I'm rather enjoying this!"

Sherlock grimaced as he realised that she had uttered the same words he had used years ago in Buckingham Palace; when he first heard about her. He remained quiet, avoiding her eyes again.

"So," she continued, "she helped you fake your death. So you must have already known her to entrust her with such responsibility. You couldn't just ask anyone for help, and it couldn't be the three targets of Moriarty, they were already in too much danger and could have easily given the game away. Am I right?"

Sherlock answered with a stony glare.

"So, she must be someone that you would come across on a regular basis, perhaps through work? She's not that awful policewoman is she?"

"No she is NOT!" Sherlock spat, his face contorted into an expression of revulsion at the mere thought of Donovan.

"Well that rules her out then. How about somebody at Bart's? You're always there. Mycroft himself once said it was your second home…"

Sherlock did not know how she knew what his brother had once said to him, but at that moment he didn't really care. Irene was getting far too close to solving the mystery and he had to admit he was feeling rather anxious. He shifted uncomfortably in the chair, his thighs still smarting from the lashes she had given him. How long was she going to persist with this interrogation? How far was she prepared to go to extract the truth out of him?

"I guess I'll have to go there and do some investigating of my own," she said sneering at him, knowing all too well how uneasy he felt and she was relishing every single minute of it. "Maybe I'll don a convincing disguise and infiltrate the lab, who knows what I could learn there?"

"Don't you DARE!"

"Oh I'm getting rather too closer aren't I?" she said in a sing-song voice that made Sherlock shudder as it reminded him of Moriarty. She took the cane and teased his face with the tip of it.

"Stop it!"

"Why would I stop now? I love watching you squirm!"

She moved the tip of the cane down his slender neck, teased the buttons of his shirt and was about to move to a lower part of his anatomy when suddenly Sherlock gripped the end of the cane with one hand. As they had been talking he had been slowly stretching the leather of one of the cuffs with his wrist. He worked it just enough to free his right hand and that hand clutched the end of the cane tightly. Irene looked shocked, astonished that he had managed to free himself without her noticing, but she had been distracted.

"You no longer have me at a disadvantage," Sherlock said coldly. Irene merely stared at him open-mouthed, silenced by the shock of his sudden free movement.

He pulled the cane towards him and with it Irene who still grasped the handle. He pulled her forward just enough so that he could look her straight in the face.

"You will leave this alone," he stated with a look of contempt. "You forget that I know people too, people that you don't want to know that you're alive and back in London."

"Sherlock… you wouldn't!" Irene gasped.

"Wouldn't I?" he asked, raising his eyebrows. He then released his hold on the cane and proceeded to release himself from his bonds. Irene merely stood back and allowed him to get up from the chair.

"I'll let myself out," he said with a fake smile before disappearing up the stairs and out of the house.

Irene stood in the middle of the room contemplating what had just happened. Of course there was the threat that Sherlock would reveal her location to her enemies, but the curiosity of his mystery woman was too great. She would have to discover her identity, but at the same time exercise caution so as not to alert Sherlock. A disguise was indeed called for and it had to be a good one…