Hello again

Thank you for the reviews.

This is a small "in between" type chapter, without any action. It shows how Sherlock leaves baker Street for Irene and details some of his confusion and feelings. Hope you enjoy x

It's set about a month after the last chapter.

"I have to go somewhere" Sherlock announced. John looked up, surprised, from the table.

'Blogging again' Sherlock thought, rolling his eyes. He turned away, heading towards his room, his suitcase already packed.

"Sherlock!" John called through the living room. When he realised that Sherlock was ignoring him he groaned and got up. Sherlock was dear to him, and he was genuinely concerned about his wellbeing after what had happened with Irene, but he was still annoying.

He found Sherlock in his room, arranging his socks. "Sorry" he said, in a tone he often used when he couldn't believe Sherlock was doing something stupid or strange or dangerous. "But where and when exactly are you going?"

Sherlock seemed slightly restless. "Just away" he said simply, zipping his suitcase shut with a flourish.

"Away?"

"Yes".

John shook his head, wishing Sherlock would just tell him. "When are you going?" he asked, hoping Sherlock would at least answer this question.

"In about ten minutes" Sherlock replied nonchalantly, looking for his scarf.

John closed his eyes. "Right…and you thought that right now would be the best time to tell me, did you?"

"Problem?"

"Yes!" John finally replied, very annoyed. "I have absolutely no idea where you're going, how long you're staying there and why you're going! Seeing that I am your friend, I should at least have some basic information-and don't give me that look!" he added hastily. "I can't deduct your travel destination by your suitcase."

Sherlock smiled slightly, but it was the first smile John had seen appear on his face since the whole Irene Adler disaster.

"It's never too late to try John!" he said, and lugged his suitcase into the living room. John followed him, exasperated.

"Could you at least tell me where you're going? Or why?"

Sherlock turned around and shook his head. John wouldn't understand. It was time for role play.

"I just…need to get away. It's all so…dull here, and I just need a bit of a change. I don't know how long I'll be gone, but a few days, possibly a little over a week…maybe two weeks."

"Two weeks?"

"l will text you the details" Sherlock said and put his coat on.

"Whoa there!" John said quickly. He ran in front of the door and braced his back against it.

"You know there's another door in the kitchen?" Sherlock said raising an eyebrow.

John realised how foolish he probably looked, and smiled slightly. The smile was quickly wiped off his face however, by worry . "Don't think that you can try that 'text me' trick on me, it won't work."

Sherlock observed him for a moment. "I know. I just need a break John. I promise that I'll stay in touch. I might even call".

John smiled again, but only half-heartedly.

"Look" he began. "I know this is a somewhat…delicate issue but…It wouldn't have anything to do with Irene, would it?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Irene?"

"You know…the woman…dominatrix…traitor?"

"Oh that Irene. Irene Adler." Sherlock said, as if he had only just recalled the person. He had to praise his own acting skills; Irene had been on his mind constantly in the last few weeks.

"Yeah…" John cleared his throat awkwardly. "It's just…you've been kind of quiet in the last few weeks, and I was wondering whether or not it had anything to do with her."

"Whatever gave you that idea John?"

John shook his head. "Nothing, it's just…well, this is unexpected. Talk about spontaneous."

The two looked at each other for a while, neither knowing quite what to say. Sherlock didn't like lying to his friend, but in this case it was necessary. He knew (or had a good idea) where Irene currently was, and he knew that it was partly his fault that she was stuck there. He had to help her out of this, but John couldn't know. Nobody could know.

"Does Mrs Hudson know that you're going on a holiday?" John said suddenly, the thought just having occurred to him.

"Yes, I told her yesterday. Went to beg to have my skull back, and ended up telling her about my trip."

"So she knows where you're going?" John asked hopefully. But Sherlock shook his head.

He heard a car honking from the street.

"That will be the taxi" he said, grabbing his suitcase. He turned around to look at John. He could see John was worried, and fought hard to contain a smile. If only John knew what kind of trouble he was about to get himself into. A terrorist prison.

Lovely.

He and John said their goodbyes and Sherlock promised to keep in touch, if only by texting.

He sighed and sat back in his taxi seat, watching the chaos in London.

He was going to miss the city.

But he missed Irene and her text messages more.

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He was tired when he finally arrived in Pakistan. It was such a contrast to London, hot, dry and dusty. He immediately made his way to the prison in Karachi, now completely certain that he would find Irene there.

After leaving her with Mycroft he had realised how stupid he had been. He didn't want her to leave. It was strange, this need he had for her. Not necessarily a physical need, just a need to know that she was alive and breathing. That there was someone of his intelligence in the world.

But he also realised that he cared for her. A lot.

And that terrified him.

Knowing that she fascinated him was one thing, but realising that he, Sherlock Holmes, who had never really cared about women in his whole life, had developed romantic feelings for this woman, scared him to death.

Of course, that had done nothing to somehow erase his anger and disappointment after the whole Jumbo jet fiasco. Leaving her there like that, with tears slipping down her face, begging, actually begging him to help her, had been horrible. What sickened him was that he had actually felt a bit of satisfaction in those few moments – she had hurt him, pretended to play him, and made sure to say that he meant nothing to her. He had played the same game in the end.

Only later did he realise that he was the man who really couldn't stand losing. And that Irene challenged exactly that - and made him better.

And he was lonely. Her flirtatious text messages had become so normal, and the moaning sound his phone emitted had become natural - almost music to his ears (that would certainly please her) because it meant that she had written.

He had hoped that the way he thought about her would fade over the weeks, but the opposite had happened. He supposed that keeping regular tabs on her hadn't helped much.

But at least he knew that she was here. He hoped she was okay. The terrorist prison cell where she was being kept didn't exactly have a good reputation in their treatment of criminals.

Fleetingly, he wondered whether or not he was making a mistake. If either she or he got caught, the consequences would be disastrous. But he dismissed the thought as nonsense.

Irene Adler would not die again. He would ensure that.

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Yeah yeah, know it was short, but please review anyway.