Mycroft resisted the urge to rub his eyes, doubting that they are letting him down; instead, he just stared at the woman, The Woman as his brother liked to call her, smiling at him in a victorious way.
"Mr. Holmes. Long time no see." She said.
Mycroft decided to express his shock by yelling at Sherlock. It seemed acceptable enough to lose his temper, given the situation:
"Explain this. How and why and? Oh I know why. How could you be so stupid, again?" he started yelling.
Sherlock's smirked, remaining completely cool in the situation, since he knew that would throw Mycroft out of tact even more:
"I decided to bring another soul back from the dead. What a Good Samaritan I am, would you agree?"
"Logically. She only had a chance with your help; I was foolish to believe you weren't bewitched by her that evening when you allegedly despised her. It was all a well directed show. In the end, you are common, falling for the same things everyone else would, the femme fatale. But tell me, Sherlock, what will you do when she grows bored of you? When you're not the shiniest trophy in her collection anymore?"
Sherlock frowned. He was secretly wondering about the very same things, but he surely didn't want to discuss them out loud, especially not with his brother. Before he could reply, Irene interfered:
"Why does that bother you anyway? As I understand, you did more damage to your brother then I will ever be able to. I may have fooled him in the past, but he never jumped from anything because of me."
"Not yet anyway." Mycroft added, his expression as dark as ever. He turned towards Sherlock, proving that deduction skills run in the family and hitting the weak spot: "How do you know you can trust her? Did sentiment cloud your judgment so much that you don't even think about that? You know you shouldn't trust in the magic of first love, but then again, most people learn that in high school, you'll just need a bit more time." He said, viciousness shining out of his eyes.
"I'm here to talk about Moriarty, not my life beyond the grave." Sherlock simply replied, pretending that Mycroft's words didn't bother him at all.
"It's quite fascinating that you have one, I must add. We can discuss business, but I prefer to do it in privacy." He said, looking in Irene's direction with unmistakable despise.
"Go ahead; I need to rest from the trip anyway. See you later...brother in law."
Mycroft's shoulders hitched almost unnoticeably as he followed his younger brother out of the room.
Irene looked at them with a smirk. One does not simply leave her to be beheaded and lives without consequences. He will have to break his diet to comfort himself after having her as a guest for a few days, she decided, smiling evilly.
Sherlock went up to the main guest room after an hour of talking to his brother. Before he even touched the doorknob, Irene opened the door, pulling him in for the collar of his jacket. She swiftly closed the door, pushing him onto them. He couldn't help but notice that she was wearing only a towel, and that her wet her smelled of chamomile. She looked at him intensely, seductively and without breaking eye contact. She slowly started unbuttoning his shirt with one of her hands, while she was leaning on the door next to Sherlock's head with the other:
"I believe Mycroft is sitting at his desk, thinking of all the horrible things I might be doing to you under his very roof. Let's not disappoint him."
Although Mycroft's words still troubled him in the back of his head, Irene's argument was unbeatable. He leaned in to kiss her, as he loosened the towel around her, which then fell on the floor, unneeded.
"I almost feel sorry that we have to leave this domestic atmosphere." Irene said a while later, playing with Sherlock's hair, while he rested his head on her abdomen.
"Do I detect fear in your voice?" asked the detective, always on alert.
"I would be lying if I said you don't. But fear is good; it keeps you on alert, always sharp. And you? Do you allow yourself the luxury of fear?"
"Fear is a sentiment; it can only cloud your judgment. The best thing one can do is assess the risks of a situation and act upon that analysis without the unnecessary panic."
"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you work on batteries and that you have wires instead of blood vessels."
"And what do you know better?" he said, teasing her.
"I know that you are deep; that you feel. And I also know that Mycroft's remarks disturbed you deeply, as well as the unpredictable outcome of our mission." She put a finger on his lips and added:" I also know that my presence here calms you down significantly, and that you are secretly grateful for it, although you'd never allow yourself to admit that, since it is illogical to rely on me again."
"Are you after my job?"
"Maybe. The coat suits me well; we've concluded that a long time ago."
"There's more to it than the coat."
"True." She said. "There's the hat as well."
"Do I make you feel uncomfortable?" said Irene, sneaking in on Mycroft which made him jump.
He quickly regained his serenity and tried to restrain the loathing he felt towards her.
"I would just prefer if you stayed dead. How did he succeed in saving you anyway? "
"You'll have to ask him, I was more focused on the final result. Did you forgive yourself for putting him through all this already, or does your redemption need more time?"
"Moriarty would find another way; he would never rest until Sherlock is out of the way." Mycroft unconsciously defended himself.
"So you simply decided to speed up the process, since it is inevitable?" said Irene, her tone more arguing.
"Are you disturbed by all of this? I sense hostility towards me; is it possible that you are influenced by feelings, so you are losing your temper out of protective reasons towards my brother, caused by romantic emotions? Or are you just playing the game, as always?" Mycroft asked, defying her with great pleasure.
"My motives are no concern of yours. I was simply pointing out the fact that in total, you did more harm to him than I could ever. The only thing I did so far was enlightening him in some aspects he should have been enlightened in a long time ago." She replied, smirking at how awkward Mycroft looked.
"I have no interest in those aspects of my brother's life, I can assure you."
"I am assured, since everything personal of his doesn't matter to you; he's just a bloodhound to you, prepared to do the leg work during the hunt."
They looked at each other hatefully, when she couldn't resist adding, with one eyebrow raised: "Good thing he has me now to take care of him, do you agree?"
Mycroft's ears were becoming dangerously red when Sherlock interrupted their verbal duel, potentially saving Irene from strangulation.
"Am I interrupting anything?" he said, pretending as if he wasn't eavesdropping at least a couple of minutes, not wanting to spoil the fun by entering.
"I was just explaining to Mycroft why you are a happy man to have me as your bride." Irene said, stroking Sherlock's arm in a possessive way.
"He doesn't seem so convinced." Sherlock simply added.
Mycroft looked at Sherlock, then back to Irene, disgusted by the obvious similarly annoying sense of humor they both shared. Taking a deep breath and suppressing his urge to end his diet by a calming piece of cake, he said, in the calmest of tones:
"I have to go now; there are urgent matters I must attend to. I strongly advise that neither of you leaves the premise, London is very risky for resurrected people."
"I'm sure this house offers many different possibilities, we'll manage just fine." Said Irene, causing a disturbing number of even more disturbing images run through Mycroft's mind. He turned on his heal, marching out of the room.
As soon as he heard Mycroft slamming the front door in rage, Sherlock lifted Irene by her waist, looking at her in a way that sent impulses of excitement all the way down her spine. As a reaction, she wrapped her legs around him, easing him to carry her upstairs. He dropped her on the bed, not wasting even a second before he lay over her, his arms resuming their wrapping position around her. She was completely unaware of anything, completely consumed by his initiative in pulling her dress up with one of his hands and the way he was kissing her neck in the special place which he discovered on their third night together in China. She let out a moan, throwing her head back in trance of what his hands were doing in combination with his tongue. Just as he reached her navel, kissing his way down her now tense body, he threw in an apparently spontaneous question:
"Would you perhaps be in the mood of helping me with my plan?"
Irene smiled, thinking that she should have known; he started using her tricks against her and for worse, he was pulling it off.
She lifted herself up on her elbows, looking at him with a mixture of pride and acknowledgement.
"Mr. Holmes, is it possible that you started using cheap tricks to make women bend your will?"
"How am I doing?" he asked with a smirk.
They both burst into laugh.
"It suits you well. But..." she said, tracing the edge of his lips, "don't forget who taught you the basics".
She rolled him, so she now sat on top of him, just to have the feeling of control of the situation, a bit afraid of how strongly he started influencing her. Damn that man and his intelligence, he was learning very fast; this made her a bit afraid and very aroused. Suppressing those thoughts, she asked:
"What did you have in mind?"
"I have a plan on how to finish Moriarty off, and I need someone on the inside to do that. But...it could be dangerous."
"Danger is my middle name."
"And I thought it was Helen."
"How do you? Never mind. Continue." She said, visibly irritated.
"It is simple. I need someone, I don't know, maybe you to go to Moriarty, infiltrate in his network without getting dead or worse exposed and give me all the useful details I could use when I get there. You think you're the woman for the job?"
"You thought about this for a long time." She said, observing him carefully. "You were weighing the potential gains and losses; you were wondering how it would make you feel if I died in the process of your revenge. No, don't answer that, it's pointless to negate, I'm sure the guilt would haunt you, even if you have successfully suppressed that now. But then again, it is the most logical thing to do, in order to finally get the whole thing done which is the most important thing to you, given your true nature of a workaholic and a selfish sociopath. Besides, it gives you a unique opportunity to test my loyalty to you. So, since I am unlike any other woman, I'll look upon this as you trying to work out the problems in our marriage, not that you are being a manipulative bastard who is putting my neck on the line for his master plan."
"I knew there was logic in marrying you."
The next day, Irene Adler also known as Yasim Anwar Ezard, and as of recently known as Sophie Jones got on a plane to Dublin, with a couple of secretly packed nicotine patches in her purse, just for good luck.
I was wondering, do you think Sherlock is still in character, given his new found sexuality? Thank you for reading and please review :)