Chapter 5
Sherlock smiled. What did you have in mind?-SH
Well John's mentioned that Cluedo is strictly out of bounds-IA
Sherlock remembered the 4 minutes and 32 seconds of Cluedo he'd played with John until he apparently "ruined it".
I never had you down as the gaming sort-SH
You don't know me as well as you think Mr Holmes. It's just another challenge that I will beat you at-IA
Perhaps chess-SH He'd meant to sound more reluctant but Sherlock had never lost a chess match in his life and it was the only ame that he vaguely enjoyed. I wasn't down to chance. You had to think and Sherlock knew Irene would be a rare challenge.
Just take it like a big boy when I win-IA
Almost simultaneously, as he heard the moaning text alert sound, the front door to 221B opened. He wasn't surprised that she'd picked the lock.
He heard quiet footsteps coming up the stairs and dragged a chair over to a table so they would be opposite each other. Then, as the door creaked open he knelt beside a cupboard and took out a battered old chess set he'd owned for 17 years (he would have had it for longer but it proved more difficult to steal it off Mycroft).
He turned round to find Irene already sitting in his chair. He frowned then, reluctantly, sat opposite her, setting down the chess set and began scanning her for any clues as to what she'd been up to, fully aware that she was doing the same to him.
By the time the chess set was ready, Irene had taken off a long blue winter coat revealing the same grey jumper from her last visit. Sherlock liked the jumper more that the other, more flirtatious and "business"-like clothing she frequented. He could smell her hair too. A variety of Christmassy aromas; spice, rich foods and chocolate again.
Her skin was so pale, that without the fire lit, she looked a little ghostly. She was thinner too, her skin stretching a little tighter over her cheekbones.
Sherlock didn't realise how long he'd been looking at her and hoped she'd assume he'd just been making deductions. She didn't.
He was mildly annoyed that all he could read was her clothing when he noticed she was shivering, despite the thick jumper.
Sherlock bent down to light the fire and curse inwardly when he saw there were no matches. John must have confiscated them when he was taking away the cigarettes.
She was doing this on purpose. Irene knew Sherlock regarded "sentiment" as a disadvantage. She'd also taken the matches from the fireplace before he'd sat down, waiting for the inevitable, and sure enough Sherlock returned from his room moments later with his dressing gown and wrapped it around her shoulders, catching a lock of her hair in his fingers as he did so. It was soft and shiny.
He'd been there too long and quickly resumed his seat.
The chess set was ready and the game began.