John's jaw had dropped when he understood what had just happened at 221B Baker Street. A Woman he had expected to be dead was in fact alive, very alive, here at Baker Street. That meant Mycroft had been wrong. "It would take Sherlock Holmes to fool me." Well, apparently Sherlock had been at hand after all. Okay. Breathe!
"Hello, Mr. Holmes," the dominatrix said smoothly as soon as her feet hit the landing. "You look better than ever!" She walked towards John and kissed him lightly full on the mouth. John was too perplexed to respond, or move any limb at all, and instead just stared at her.
"What did-did you do to John?" he stammered, feeling the need to say at least something.
"Oh," she answered him, waving dismissively with her hand. "I did what you told me to, remember? It's just the drug I gave you too, nothing to worry about."
What! What had Sherlock told her to do with him?
But before he could ask her she had walked to the living room and crashed down on the sofa, sighing deeply and looking around the flat with a contented smile.
"Well, what are you doing here? You're supposed to be dead, remember." Sherlock hadn't said anything about her not being dead, so that must have been his plan. He wholeheartedly hoped.
John raised an eyebrow and looked at her inquisitively.
The Woman crossed her legs elegantly and flipped off her expensive high heels, dropping them carelessly on the floor with a soft thud. "I know I'm supposed to be dead, dearest, but we had this date today, remember? How long haven't you had any?" Her gaze was slightly mischievous, teasing.
"Any what?" John swallowed hard and avoided her gaze.
"Sleep, virgin of mine. How long haven't you had any sleep? You really seem to need it."
John didn't respond to that. Irene looked slightly worried. "Are you alright, dear?"
"Please, stop calling me dear!" John snapped, causing the Woman to frown even more.
"Is everything alright, Sherlock?" Irene sat up a little straighter as she tilted her head a little.
John covered his eyes with his hand and sat down in his chair, sighing deeply while the Woman's eyes were still focused on him.
When John remained silent, she sighed too and stood up. "Well, I didn't come all this way just to see you sit here. I thought we could have better things to do. Although… you look good sitting there like that. Shall I take a closer look? Those clothes seem to be very uncomfortable…" her voice trailed off, leaving a meaningful silence.
Bewildered, John looked up and asked: "please, remind me, dear."
Suddenly a smile broke through on the handsome woman's face. "Ah, you're trying to trick me, aren't you?"
"No…" WHAT!
"Well, last time you seemed to know very well what you wanted."
Oh dear lord… What had he done wrong to deserve this!
"I forgot." Oh dear me. John started to sweat. He knew how to stand up to her but talking, flirting, with her like this was something entirely different.
"You said it yourself. Well, screaming would be a better description." She again tilted her head, a playful smile around her mouth.
Oh god no. What a mess Sherlock made when he wasn't watching.
John cleared his throat nervously and stood up. "Would you care for some tea?"
"Oh, is this you seducing me again?" Irene teased, sinking down on the sofa again after she had taken off her coat. She was impeccably dressed in a deep-purple dress, simple but effective; it flattered her silhouette; something John didn't fail to notice. She had really made an effort!
John sneaked to the kitchen and began to make tea.
"Shall I take care of John?" Irene asked, her voice suddenly dangerously close to John's ear. "Erm, yes, if you'd be so kind. I'm sure he'll be very angry with me when he wakes up." Oh hell yes! He was going to kill Sherlock.
She stroked his upper arm softly, seductively, when she walked downstairs bare-footed. John sighed deeply and did a quick aspiration. Please let me live.
When Irene came upstairs again, she sat down on the sofa and accepted the cup of tea from John.
John had, in the mean time, made up his mind and decided it would have been very much unlike Sherlock to have any kind of relation with her, so he started: "now, tell me what the real reason is you came here."
"We had a date."
"Oh, I'm sure we had, but that's not why you were here. We weren't supposed to meet again, so tell me: why did you risk it?" Living with Sherlock The Sod Holmes had certainly been educational. Logical conclusion that seem to make sense…
Irene smiled and put down her cup. "I need money. I have bribed many people to get to Moriarty's men, and now I've run out of it."
"I thought you knew what they liked."
Irene chuckled and looked at the clever detective opposite her. "Your cheekbones still remain very inviting, you know that?"
Yeah, tell me about it. "Are they?"
Irene narrowed her eyes and smiled again. "Read me."
"I've never been able to do that, dearest." Well, playing Sherlock wasn't that bad. John felt like James Bond; flirting with the bad-girls, close to the edge…
Irene opened her mouth to answer, but some rumbling noises from downstairs caused her to frown. "That can't be John. I'll see you later tonight, Sherlock." She quickly walked towards the detective and pulled him on his feet by grabbing his lapels. She closed the distance between them, pressing her mouth unto John's.
He was being kissed by Irene Adler, the dominatrix. Irene Adler. Sherlock's Woman. John decided to take all that was offered to him and kissed back enthusiastically. It's not that often that he got to kiss so many girls. Well, that he was being kissed by girls. First Molly, now Irene… Sherlock The Lucky Bastard Holmes.
She pulled back and looked at him with wonder in her eyes. "Wow, you've gotten better, Sherlock." She ran towards Sherlock's bedroom and opened the window there. She teasingly called over her shoulder, just before she jumped: "keep practicing, dearest. Perhaps we can move on to phase three!"
John blinked and sat down, emptying his cuppa in two gulps. Irene Adler wasn't dead. She was alive. And obviously, she and Sherlock were… involved somehow. Well, knowing Irene, she was suggesting things that weren't there, so he had to ask Sherlock to make sure the information was true.
Pondering, John didn't notice that Sherlock stood in the living room barely seconds later. "What h-happened John?" he asked, his voice hoarse.
"We had a visitor."
Sherlock's gaze wandered over John's face. "There's lipstick on your face."
John's hand flew towards his face and he attempted to remove the greasy blood-red stains while Sherlock sat down and grabbed a book, probably unwilling to know who had come by to visit.
"Sherlock?"
"Hmm?" Sherlock didn't look up from his book.
"You were drugged, how can you have recovered so soon?"
"Small dose and I'm an ex-addict. You're a doctor; you should have known."
"What drug was it?" John's eyes were fixed on Sherlock's.
"Oh, no idea."
"Oh." John thought some more, and then again asked: "do you actually have a girlfriend?"
Now he had Sherlock's attention. "Sorry?"
"You heard me the first time. Answer me."
"Girlfriend? No, not really." Sherlock dived into his book again.
"Do you have a dead girlfriend then?"
"What do you mean, John?" Sherlock answered wearily, still not looking up from his apparently very interesting book.
"Irene Adler was here."
Sherlock's eyes shut up, met John's, widened for a bit, but he pulled himself together pretty fast. "Of course, that's obvious. What did she want?"
"Money, she said."
"What did she say? I need to know her exact words, John."
John thought deeply and then said: "I need money. I have bribed many people to get to Moriarty's men, and now I've run out of it."
"Did she say anything else?"
"Well-"
"John, I need to know!"
"Hang on," John stuttered. "She mentioned a date, you screaming what you wanted…"
"What did she do with her shoes?"
"What? How-"
Sherlock's gaze caused John's questions to drift off, so he answered Sherlock. "She threw them off as soon as she was here."
"Where did she go?"
"Was it something important?"
"John! Where did she go!" Sherlock was losing his patience, something that happened very rarely. He was pacing around the room agitatedly.
"She left through the window in your bedroom; she said she'd be returning later this afternoon."
Sherlock continued to pace around the room, and suddenly John shouted: "Sherlock, SIT DOWN and explain."
"Explain what?" Sherlock stopped in mid-movement and looked at a heated John.
"'Why isn't Irene Adler dead?' would be a good one to start with perhaps."
Sherlock exhaled deeply and sat down. "Fair enough."
So Sherlock explained he went to Karachi, saved her and how she promised to help him destroy Moriarty's network after he had jumped.
"What's that with all the codes?"
"Something is wrong, very wrong, but I don't know what."
"She kissed me, Sherlock. Twice."
Sherlock sighted, the ghost of a smile darting around his lips. "Don't worry. She does that."
"And she drugged you, according to her 'in the way to had told her to'."
"Yes. We do that." Sherlock tried to avoid answering that one, but when John's gaze didn't leave him for a single second, he continued: "you weren't supposed to know she was still alive, neither is Mycroft. Now I think you both do."
Phew. That was tough. Irene will be returning, obviously. I hope I portrayed her well, it's the first ficI've written with Irene in it. Please leave a review. I love reviews. :D