In that moment, Sherlock felt like he needed to be wrapped in a shock blanket. He wasn't sure how but in the same time he felt completely empty from the shock and completely overwhelmed with different physical reactions to stress and the stampede of thoughts racing through his mind. His pulse went through the roof as she gently placed her hand on his shoulder.
"Aren't you going to look at me Mr. Holmes? Or are the ornaments of the fireplace more interesting?"
Sherlock snapped out of his trance. As always, this was a competition of wit. He turned around slowly to face The Woman once more. He studied her expression; she was happy to see him, that was evident, but she also seemed frighteningly self satisfied. She wore a little black dress that flattered her body in all the right ways; her hairstyle was different, still long and curly but it was all combed to one side which made visible the long, diamond earrings that she wore.
He was on her terrain now as she knew he was coming. Cursing himself for not realizing this before, Sherlock started with a very calm voice, not letting this register on an emotional level:
"Well, Miss Adler, you look better then the last time I saw you. Your second life has been treating you well I see?"
"As you see. I must return the compliment, you look well yourself. A bit pale and surprised at the moment, but generally fine."
Sherlock's eyes narrowed as a reaction to her remark and she reacted to that with a small, shy smile.
"I'm here because of a murder investigation back in London."
"I know."
"Clearly."
"This seems like a déjà vu. Do you want me to drug you and beat you now, or a bit later?" she couldn't hold her laugh back anymore.
This lured out an honest smile out form the detective.
"I'd rather leave the beating for later, if you don't have anything in mind."
"Not at all. But, I'll take your word for it."
"Let's discuss the case first. What is your knowledge of...?"
"And what will happen after this 'first'?" she wouldn't let him off the hook so easily.
"...these murders. Why did you write an e-mail to the latest victim and what are you doing here?" he ignored her again.
She gave in to his order of things, so she sat in an armchair next to the fireplace and indicated him to do the same. She felt pleasantly uncomfortable from the intensity of his look.
"I responded to an e-mail she sent to me about her fears from whoever killed the other women. I am the manager of this place and of that one in London as well. I figured that continuing my old line of work won't do any good for my new undercover life, but I couldn't completely leave the line of work if you know what I mean. So I decided that instead of doing the recreational scolding myself, I educate and organize others to do it for me. Thus my presence here."
"So M in the letter was for Madame? I shouldn't be surprised; even if you're presumably dead you still know what people like."
"Exactly. And if I even have to point it out, I have no idea who killed these girls and I was in no way involved in that."
"I know. But I have a different theory now. At first I taught someone was killing prostitutes from a special group because they were harder to get to so it was a challenge, or because they were exclusive so it was a sick ego boost. Except that, now I see that they have another thing in common. You. I'm not sure why, but it seems that someone is using them to get your attention; or to get at you. Either way, I think you are not safe here anymore. "
"Not safe? Maybe I should sneak into your bedroom like the last time I didn't feel safe. But since you're already here, I might spare myself the trip."
Sherlock got up and started pacing with his hands on his back the room nervously. He hadn't expected the case to go in this direction. It seemed more concerning by the minute and it wasn't helping him to focus that she sat there piercing him with her look.
"Oh, by the way, did you like her? Did I guess well?" asked Irene provocatively.
"Did I like who?"
"The girl of course, Rebecca. I was informed that you paid the mansion a visit so I instructed that they lead you to her. I think I taught her well, don't you? I had to give her some information, just to let her know what to expect from you. I think my exact words were: I know a man and I know what he likes. In fact, I think I am what he likes."
He stopped and took a deep breath. She was not getting away with that. It was a cheap trick, but he played on the card of her sentiment.
"Oh you taught her well indeed. In fact, if I knew her a bit longer, I suppose her pulse would give her feelings away at some critical point which would lead to her losing everything she worked for her whole life."
"But then you would come to her rescue as well? You have a tendency to save women who attract your attention." Irene was on her feet as well now.
"Perhaps I would have. If she was anything like you, she would end up on the losing side soon enough."
"I'd always choose the losing side when the alternative is crossing half the globe and risking your life for someone you don't give a damn about, and then just letting them leave. And now you're here and..." Unintentionally Irene had started screaming at him.
Sherlock sensed that he went too far.
"Oh, you meant me by that?" he innocently asked. That made her laugh. But a few seconds after that, it made her sad.
She looked down for what seemed an eternity to Sherlock and then she looked up right into his eyes.
"I'm sorry. I overreacted. It's just...never mind."
Sherlock knew what she meant as he knew it back in Karachi as well, but now he decided to say something. Anything. Baby steps.
"It's fine. I...I wanted to mess with you, you did nothing wrong."
"Sherlock Holmes admitting defeat? Sorry, I can't help myself, the words just fly right out of my mouth."
They both laughed. Admitting it or not, seeing each other again was at the very top of their happiness list. She broke the silence first.
"So, you think someone is out to get me? With us together, I mean with us working together, they'll have the time of their lives trying."
"Exactly."
"So, dinner? I'm not teasing, don't give me that look, I just taught you might be hungry?"
"As a matter of fact, I am."
"I am hungry toooo." Said a voice at the door, the last voice either of them wanted to hear for the rest of their lives.
They quickly turned around to face the consulting criminal who had a turtle face and tried to look childishly innocent.
"Did you miss me?"
Sherlock, as well as Irene had temporarily lost the ability to speak.
"Oh come on now. I missed you both sooo muuuuuch. In fact, I missed you so much that I simply had to cut the strings of a few puppets to inspire you to meet again. You look sooo adorable together. Can we name the baby Jim, can we, can we?"
Unconsciously, Sherlock took a step forward in order to shield Irene from Moriarty's presence that was, in his mind, mildly put radioactive.
"What is your game here? Causing trouble again?" said Sherlock with disgust in his voice.
"I felt like pulling some strings, dear. And you both make such adorable puppets. Because, you know, I've been watching you. While she was doing her best to think like you and in that way, to avoid you finding her, she forgot about other spiders out to catch a flie. So I couldn't bare the poor girl so sad and alone; I decided to be cupid and bring you back together. Isn't that adoooorable?" The more innocently he seemed, the glow of pure madness was more evident in his dark eyes.
Sherlock pointed his gun at Moriarty, repeating the deadly dance.
"What comes now, snipers, and then you dramatically exit and reenter the scene?
"Only if this time she jumps at me like your other darling human. The script must be followed, puppets."
Irene spoke now with the unmistakable authoritative tone which brought many of her clients down on their knees.
"Enough with the disgusting sweet talk; you're giving my ears diabetes. What do you want?"
Irene's words changed Moriarty from puppy to snake within the second.
"I love woman with an attitude. It's touching how defensive you get about him. Maybe I could make you into a left and him into a right shoe? That's how you would be a real pair."
"If you want us dead, please, we are at your disposal right here."
"Kill you? Don't be obvious. First we should play a game. A game of the naughty spider and two helpless little flies trying to untangle from his big, bad web. The rules to this delightful game are: I let you go and in twenty four hours one of you comes back here to die and the other one lives. Or I'll be generous, let it be forty eight hours so you can really grow fond of each other before the inevitable. I can't take all the credit though; I got the idea from the heroic sacrifice John was willing to give. But, then again, he is so ordinary and loyal. Can the same be expected from you two, the dominatrix in love and the fake sociopath? And if you decide to play Romeo and Julie, you both die which you of course already realized. Don't be laaate." He exited the room, but then returned only to peak his head through the door:
"Oh, and I forgot. I wouldn't stick around here for too long; this place will blow up in a few minutes. Just to help you adjust to the pressure of time. Until we meet again, lovebirds."
Irene and Sherlock looked at each other and quickly decided that now is not a good time to talk.
They ran for their lives down the stairs.
"Wait. The people in the salon!"
"I've got it." she said and hit the fire alarm.
With the sound of sirens they ran out to the street.
So, what did you think? Is it in character enough? :) The typos are intentional, I just tried to imitate the way Moriarty talks. :)