Just thought I'd give thanks again to my husband for helping me out with the fight scenes for the previous chapter. He is of course more experienced with martial arts than I am so I had to rely on him for it. Also, we had to enact some of the scenes (with clothes on of course LOL) to make it more believable so yeah, we did end up with a few bruises for that last chapter LOL!

And now without further ado, here's Chapter 6.

"I must know, Ms. Morstan, how did you manage to sneak a gun past security?"

"You'd be surprised," Mary called from beside Irene on the couch. Sherlock was still in the open kitchen, still wearing the black fur shawl around his hips while pouring tea into white cups.

"Dear me, it seems I may have to file a report," Sherlock remarked in such a way that Irene wasn't so sure if he was serious or not.

She moved her gaze over the blow up photo on the wall again, imprinting the image of the tied up woman into her mind while running her fingers over her dark brown tresses, which had come undone during her earlier scuffle with Sherlock. Her own hair was not unlike the woman in the image, although she couldn't tell what shade the woman's was due to the photograph's lack of colour.

The likeness unnerved her somewhat, and she began to roll her hair up in a bun.

"Leave your hair down, Ms. Adler," came Sherlock's silken tone. Irene hadn't realized until then that he had already returned to the sitting area, and was now setting a tray on the coffee table. "You look much more enchanting with your hair cascading down your shoulders like that."

She paused, holding his gaze for a moment before tying her hair up anyway, albeit haphazardly.

Sherlock chuckled and sat on the arm chair closest to Irene, hands on the arm rests, legs crossed, a smirk on his lips. "So...did Mycroft send you to take me to the authorities? To look for further proof of my involvement in Lydia Smallwood's murder?"

Irene saw Mary look up with a start. "How did you know she was murdered?"

Sherlock shrugged. "Mycroft reached out to me a few days ago about it. And since my brother's right hand person happens to share the great Irene Adler's last name, I thought it was only a matter of time before he sent both of you after me." He paused for a moment, his unblinking stare still on Irene. "So which is it? Take me to the police? Or prove I killed her?"

Irene shook her head. "Neither. We've actually come here to prove your innocence."

For the first time that day, Irene saw Sherlock's bearing change from confidence to suspicion. At least, that's what she garnered from the way he narrowed his eyes and ran a finger across his lower lip. "And what makes you so sure that I'm innocent? Clearly, you saw the report. The way Ms. Smallwood was bound, the red silk tie around her neck...they're the signature style of Master Sigerson." He gestured to the photograph on the wall. "You've been staring at that picture long enough, Ms. Adler—a picture I photographed myself—for me to infer you have seen something similar, possibly in crime scene photos. And I make it no secret that Lydia Smallwood was a patron of mine."

"So you're saying you're guilty," Mary pursued.

Sherlock's cocky smile reappeared. "I didn't say I was."

Mary remained undaunted, much to Irene's surprise. "So you're innocent?"

"I didn't say I was either."

It was Irene's turn to narrow her eyes. If there was anything she loathed more than being belittled by her older sister, it was dealing with uncooperative clients. "Mr. Holmes, I'm not here to play games."

"But I am." Sherlock suddenly leaned forward, and despite the relative distance between them compared to earlier, Irene found herself backing away a little. "You were sent here to prove my innocence. So go on, Ms. Adler. Impress me. More than you already have."

Irene moved her eyes over him. Over his dark hair which was slowly drying into soft curls. To his blue green eyes with its pupils blown wide open. To the mischievous smile on his lips. The throbbing vein on his neck. The taut muscles straining against his lean form.

She read...

Nothing. Nothing at all to indicate who this man was beneath this aura he was projecting. And she hated herself for being unable to read him.

"The evidence is all circumstantial at this point." She masked her confusion behind a cold, professional tone. "But it is strong enough to merit an arrest. So I suggest you cooperate with us or else our next meeting will be with you staring out from behind the bars of a cell."

"Then you will have failed in solving this case." Sherlock leaned back to his arm chair, appearing so completely in control that Irene wanted to step on his foot with her stilettos again. "All those other cases of yours...your impeccable track record, tarnished by one man."

Something inside her broke a little.

No. Even if she weren't to solve this case, her record wouldn't be tarnished.

It already was. By the one case that truly mattered.

"I sense anger in you," Sherlock cut through her thoughts, his tone surprisingly tender. "Ms. Adler...did I happen to strike a nerve?"

Irene's fingers curled into fists. She wanted to remain calm, to keep him, or Mary from seeing through her sudden vulnerability but when she spoke, her voice came out threatening. "You're making it very difficult for me to do my job, Mr. Holmes."

If Sherlock sensed the venom in her words, he didn't show it. "Nothing worth doing is ever easy, Ms. Adler."

Silence. Thick, stifling silence. From the corner of her eye, Irene could see Mary staring at her then at Sherlock as they continued to lock gazes. She knew now her bubbling resentment was clear for all to see. Worse still was he seemed to be reading her like an open book while she was getting nothing from him. Absolutely nothing. He was just sitting there, staring back at her, invincible to her deductions.

Damn him!

Mary put her cup down with a slight clatter, and Irene couldn't have found the interruption more welcome. "Can you at least give us some insight if there's anyone who would...perhaps copy your style. Maybe to frame you?"

"So you're thinking this is a frame up now?" Sherlock sighed. He sounded almost bored and maybe a little condescending. "Where's your evidence? What's their motive? What's my motive, if I am the one who killed Ms. Smallwood?"

"Why are you doing this?" Irene burst out. She hadn't meant to. But this man...this impossible man was making her do and feel the unexpected.

"Because I like detective stories, Ms. Adler. And detectives...particularly you." His answer had caught her off guard; so much so that when he leaned closer again, she didn't even have the sense to back away. She could practically see her own reflection in his eyes. "I'd like to see how you work this one out. I'd like to see more of you and not just what I've read of you from Ms. Morstan's blog. Or the papers. Or your website. I'd like to watch you work that pretty brain of yours that I've heard so much about."

"You rea..." She managed to stop herself. She had been about to ask if he really read her website, especially since Mary constantly teased her about having zero visitors. And that was a completely irrelevant question. "You...you just want to spite your brother, don't you?"

"That's the first accurate deduction you have made of me." Sherlock laughed again. He seemed to dearly love to laugh. Then, almost in an instant, his eyes darkened. "Yes, I do not appreciate Mycroft nosing around in my business when he has made it perfectly clear for years how he'd rather pretend I never existed. If he gave you the impression that he was after my well-being, then you have sadly been misled."

"What do you mean?" Mary asked.

"The general elections are coming up," Sherlock pointed out, and even without the rest of his explanation, Irene understood the implications. "If...or rather, when word gets out about the murder, and I get arrested, well, it probably won't bode well for his career now, wouldn't it?

"Now, if you'll excuse me, ladies," he rose from his chair, his eyes once again on Irene, "I need to get ready for another appointment. Should you need to contact me again, you can simply ask my brother or your sister for my phone number, as I'm sure you will have to report to them about our discussion. I imagine Mycroft won't be very pleased but then again, he shouldn't be surprised."

Irene didn't want to go. Not yet. She had too many questions, too many deductions that needed to be made but just like his penthouse and his current state, Sherlock Holmes by all appearances was laid bare in front of her. She saw everything and yet she saw nothing; saw points of interest but nothing to point towards a resolution of the case.

She grabbed her clutch and slowly stood up from the couch, as did Mary. She rarely conceded defeat, but with this man, she would have to leave to fight another day.

Sherlock escorted them out. They had just gotten out of the door when she heard him call out. "Oh! Almost forgot, Ms. Adler."

She turned to face him and almost choked. Sherlock Holmes was naked once again and holding out her fur shawl to her, a cheeky smile on his face. "Your shawl, m'lady."

"Keep it," Irene blurted out.

Sherlock's smile deepened as he held the shawl to his chest. "Thank you. I shall treasure it."

Irene pivoted and walked towards Mary, who was standing by the elevator with a pensive look on her face.

Then, Sherlock's voice rang through the corridor again. "I hope to see you again soon, Ms. Adler."

"Catch you later," Irene threw back, earning her another round of laughter from Sherlock.

"A witty sense of humour. I love it. You are a truly remarkable woman."

Irene didn't turn to look; simply hurried to the elevator, hoping she moved quickly enough for Mary to miss how flushed her face had become. Only when the elevator doors closed did she finally let out the breath she didn't realize she was holding in.

Mary let out a deliberate cough. "Well...that was...he's quite a character, isn't he?" A pause. When Irene looked up, she saw her friend was once again looking at her in a thoughtful manner, only this time, her lips were curled up in a teasing smile. "I think he likes you."

Irene ignored the comment. "He's hiding something. Something big."

"He and his brother are obviously at odds," Mary observed, arms crossed across her breasts. "Do you think he committed the murder to destroy the prime minister?"

Irene rolled her eyes. Sometimes Mary came up with the silliest conclusions. "And endanger his own freedom in the process? He may detest his brother, but I don't think it would be enough for him to sacrifice himself. He seemed the type of man who loves himself too much for that."

"Well, if he isn't guilty, why isn't he cooperating?"

"Didn't you hear him? This is a game, Mary. And he wants to play."

Mary scoffed. "By the looks of it, so do you."

"You know me." For the first time since coming face to face with Sherlock Holmes, Irene beamed a confident smile. "I always do like a challenge."

Thanks again to you my lovely readers! The case is progressing, now that we finally got a few exchanges in between Sherlock and Irene. Next chapter will feature more investigations and hopefully you'll enjoy the case as much as the interactions between Sherlock and Irene.

Until the next chapter! Meantime, I will welcome your comments and reply at the soonest ;)