I'd just like to give a shout out for the extra work my Adlocker husband did in not just being my editor, but also working with me through the plot. I'd write him as a co-author, but he doesn't have an AO3 account. So please give a shout out and some love to my husband, alias JAMAEDA for all the support and for being a major help with the research of this fic, as well as some of the dialogue. Thanks Love!
"First you wear those ill-fitting clothes to spite Anthea, and now you demand the prime minister for designer wear?" Mary declared as she and Irene exited the boutique to hail a cab.
"I didn't demand. He did say that he'll provide me with anything I needed for the investigation." Irene walked around to the trunk to deposit her shopping bags before slipping in to the cab with Mary. "Baker Street, please."
"I don't see how an Alexander McQueen dress helps with the case," Mary muttered once the cab started driving away. "That was pretty expensive too. The dress alone could probably pay for a couple of month's rent, and I haven't even included the Louboutins to the equation. Are you even sure you can walk around in those things?"
"Believe it or not, Mary dear, I have attended a few social events in my time." Irene eased back on her seat and tried to appear comfortable. She wasn't going to dare admit to Mary that she couldn't wait to change from her shirt and jeans. They'd become a little too tight over the years. "There was even a time when I ran after my target while wearing heels."
Mary chuckled. "I'll believe that when I see it."
"Well, let's just hope this Sherlock Holmes is the cooperative type. I'd rather not go on another high heel chase." Suddenly recalling the events of the morning, Irene gave Mary a disapproving look. "When are you going to start blogging about our last case?"
"Oh for God's sake, Irene. Are you still on about that?"
Irene grinned, then tapped a delicate finger on her lips as she thought of a title. "The Chef's Salad?"
"Too simple," Mary replied.
"The Salad of Death?"
"Immature."
"Jawlocked on Hemlock?"
"What? Is jawlock even a word?"
"I'm just making this up as I go. Humour me. What about 'The Recipe of Death'?"
"Close. I think I might go with 'A Recipe for Murder'."
"Ugh. You never take on any of my title suggestions."
"Most of them happen to be quite silly. This is the closest you've come to helping me with one." Mary took out her phone, stared at it for a moment before slipping it back in to her coat pocket. "Besides, blogging is my job, not yours. How am I supposed to earn my keep if I let you do everything?"
Irene raised a brow, her blue eyes making note of the way Mary's shoulders turned rigid. "You were checking to see if John tried to contact you, weren't you?"
"No," Mary said, a bit too shrilly. "I was just checking the time. It's almost lunch hour. Would you care for some salad?"
"With a side of hemlock in it?" Irene grinned.
"I just might add some in if you don't stop pestering me about that bloody blog," Mary parried. "I'll continue writing once we get home."
Moments later, the cab came to a stop in front of their flat at 221 B Baker Street. Irene was the first to get out and after taking her shopping bags from the trunk, took in her surroundings with narrowed eyes.
The nearby Speedy's Cafe was busy as usual, the sidewalks full of people with their eyes and ears glued to their mobiles. Passing vehicles honked their horns, the drivers eager for a break in their shifts so they can satiate their collective hunger. Nothing seemed amiss except for some fresh scrapings on the door's keyhole.
"Someone's in the flat," Irene muttered.
"Oh?" Mary's brows rose in unison. Her tone was casual, but Irene sensed a hint of concern. They'd experienced a few home invasions in the past, mostly from shady characters they'd run into during investigations. "Perhaps Mr. Stamford is back from vacation."
"It's not Mr. Stamford." She turned to give her friend a knowing look. "It's someone else who has copies of the keys."
Irene watched as Mary paled, then almost as quickly flush with colour.
Without a word, Irene stepped back and let Mary open the door, shaking her head when her friend rushed up the stairs, almost tripping in the process. How strange it must be to be governed by sentiment instead of rational thought.
She trudged up the stairs. She already knew who the intruder was and sure enough, she saw Dr. John Watson in the sitting room, locked in a tight embrace with his fiancée, a bouquet of roses still in his hand.
"Hello, John," Irene greeted casually. "Didn't expect you to take a day off."
"Well, you know," John shrugged and smiled, still hugging Mary, even swaying her a little. "Your best friend is worth it."
Mary sobbed loudly, and Irene had to fight the urge to groan. Still, she had to admit she was relieved to see them settle their differences. John was good for Mary, and though Irene would rather die than tell a soul, she had since grown to find his presence in her life not wholly unwelcome.
"Irene," Mary called, her face still buried on John's shoulder, "could you give John and I a little privacy?"
"O-oh. Right, right. Carry on, you two." Suddenly feeling awkward, Irene retreated to her room, shopping bags in tow. Yes, she could afford to let those two some privacy. After all, she was going to need ages to prepare for this new battle she was about to face.
After an hour of meticulous preparations, Irene closed her laptop and moved towards her full length mirror. The white Alexander McQueen dress fit her slim form perfectly, the black Louboutin heels granting her small frame a few more inches in height. Not a strand was out of place from her elaborate, vintage-inspired hairstyle, and her makeup highlighted every attractive feature in her face.
She looked decidedly different. Not at all like consulting detective Irene Adler, who preferred function over fashion. She was going to have a terrible time running around in this pencil cut dress, not to mention the heels. Hopefully, it wouldn't have to come to that, even if she'd love to prove to Mary that she can run in these shoes.
She searched through the bags and found the black fur shawl among her purchases and slung it over an arm. Yes, this was a perfect addition to the socialite look she was after. It was faux fur, of course. She may work with corpses a lot but she detested having to wear a dead animal on her person, even if it was for a case.
Grabbing a silver clutch bag on the way out, she walked down the hallway and found Mary and John, seated at the dining table, sharing a few laughs over a plate of sandwiches.
Irene didn't have to ask what they had been up to while she was gone. Their wrinkled clothes, dishevelled hair, and the telling streaks of lipstick on John's lips and neck said it all.
"Please tell me you didn't do it on the table again," Irene groaned. "I do experiments on that table."
"N-No!" Mary turned to her with a jolt. "We were in my roo—whoa." Irene watched her best friend eye her from head to foot. "Since when did you learn to do your hair and makeup like that?"
"Elementary, my dear Mary." Irene jutted her chin forward, a sly smile on her red lips. "I simply paid attention to the fashion billboards we passed by earlier and made a deduction of how the makeup was applied and—"
"Fibbing, Irene." Mary cut in.
"Okay. When we were out in the boutique, I managed to observe some women having their makeup done. It was a matter of memorizing how it was—"
"Still fibbing, Irene. That only works on John, not me."
"Okay. I got it from Youtube," Irene grumbled. "Happy now?"
"To have you admit that there are actually some things you don't know?" Mary chuckled. "Oh very much."
"In any case, you look very pretty, Irene," John remarked sincerely. "Finally have a date do you?"
"Oh, I wouldn't call it a date." Irene looked at the mirror above the sitting room's mantelpiece. Yes, she didn't look half bad. She still wasn't used to seeing herself so made up though. "But I do have to look good."
"Who are you meeting?" John pursued.
"An alleged murderer," Irene answered as-a-matter-of-factly.
"Oh." John paused. "So it's the usual then."
Irene gave John a mischievous smile. Yes, his presence was not unwelcome at all. In fact, he seemed to fit right in with her and Mary, completely unperturbed by the potential hazards in the cases they investigated. She even thought that just like his fiancée, John might be getting some kind of kick out of all this.
"The only kind of men Irene seems to be interested in are the dangerous ones."Mary let out a hearty laugh. Someone's definitely happier now, Irene thought.
"Well, he does tie up women and beat them up for a living," Irene agreed. "So no, I wouldn't exactly peg him for a kitten."
From the corner of her eye, Irene saw John almost spit out his sandwich. "Tie up? Beat up? W-What does she mean, Mary?"
Irene walked towards the dining table. "Our target for today, John, is a bondage master. Mary and I will be disguising as his clients."
"Bondage master?" John parroted incredulously.
"Clients?" Mary repeated in the same disbelieving tone. "What, both of us?"
"You're already wearing that dress. You're pretty much playing the part already. Although you may need to retouch your makeup a bit. I have some in my clutch." Irene reached out and grabbed Mary's arm, dragging her to the doorway. "Now come on, we have a tight schedule. And don't worry John. I'll return your fiancée to you in one piece."
"Try not to get her tied and beaten, if you please?" John called out, and with a bit of humour in his voice, added, "I'd like to be the one to do that to her."
Mary gasped, then giggled. "Or maybe I'll be the one to do that to you, John Watson!"
Irene shook her head. Two people in love, and yet they threaten each other with violence in a tender sort of way. It was all too bizarre. All too confusing. But that was another mystery for another day, Irene thought. Right now, she needed to focus all her energies on her current case.
It was time for her to solve the mystery that was Sherlock Holmes.
So this is John's first appearance in the fic :) I'd like to think of him here definitely as the male counterpart of Mary from the original series/timeline so he's more of a side character than anything else, as Mary of course takes center stage as a version of him in this universe.
As for the next chapter, I am honestly excited for you to read it, but I want it to be perfect so I hope you guys will be patient with me while I write and edit it.
Thanks again for all the love you've been giving this fic, especially in AO3. I'll do my best not to disappoint.