Sorry for not uploading in a while. I have been very "busy" so chapters might be a bit infrequent. Please review! Even if you hated it I'll try to improve them if you spot any faults in it.
Chapter 11
John, either not noticing Sherlock's expression or pretending to ignore it assumed the cold night air was just making him cold.
"Yeah Gower Street… I can get you a jumper if you'd rather-" but Sherlock cut him off, or rather, he had already disappeared from sight, down the street.
All sensible deductions had flown out of Sherlock's head with the cold which was stabbing at his exposed skin like a knife. Irrational thoughts clouded his mind as he ran past a policeman giving him a suspicious look.
She couldn't get caught this easily could she?
He past one of the drunks in the street he'd seen before, ignoring his outraged shouts. Was this the reason she'd told him she was leaving? Surely she didn't think she was going to her death…
Sherlock pushed past an irritated Donovan and climbed the stairs quickly, three at a time.
The smirking face of what seemed to be the police's only forensics "expert" stared at his panting body.
"Hardly surprising that the psychopath doesn't celebrate Christmas"
"Not now Anderson!" Lestrade's voice rang through the door, Sherlock taking this as an invitation to shove Anderson aside and enter a gloomy room, covered in mildew, where Lestrade and a few other policemen stood. Sherlock held his breath and looked down at a slumped body, draped across a chair.
A terrified expression. Orange skin; lots of foundation. Freckles. Tangled hair. Nose too big. Cheekbones more obscure.
Sherlock sighed with relief as he looked down at the petrified face, even letting a smile cross his own.
"Is this really that good, Sherlock?" Lestrade had been watching him up to this point, clearly slightly alarmed by his smile.
"She's engaged. Or was. There's a phone number written on her hand in permanent marker. It's faded a lot so she wrote it on a while ago. I assume from another lover or something similar. She probably told the fiancé it was her brother's even though she doesn't have one. Her fiancé must have somehow seen through this "brilliant" lie. He had a big temper; you can tell from the bruise on her eye that she tried to cover up with makeup. He probably ran for it afterwards. I'd check-" Sherlock reached into her pocket where a tell-tale bulge of a phone was, and scrolled through her messages. Most recently from Rob and Steven. He rolled his eyes at the content of the messages between her and Steven.
"Find Robert Knighton. He's your killer. Case closed." Sherlock tossed the phone at Lestrade's gawping face and exited the room.
Pathetic. Even Donovan could have solved that one. Sherlock breathed another sigh of relief, stepping back out into the night.
She wasn't dead. Yet. Safe wasn't a word he'd use to describe Irene Adler but she knew how to take care of herself even if she was keen to mix herself up in danger.
That was a quick one-IA
The alert made a passing man chuckle but Sherlock had by this time grown used to the noise.
A simple affair. Not worth my time-SH
Affairs are never simple. That's what makes them fun-IA
Sherlock rolled his eyes again and pocketed his phone, opening the door to the welcoming warmth of 221B.
Irene smiled. She enjoyed playing with Sherlock and she wondered whether he enjoyed it too. Irene checked her watch again. Nearly time. She crossed the hotel room floor and pulled some clothes out of her suitcase. A stethoscope, an ID tag, a plain white coat and jeans. Normal people clothes. Irene smiled a little, raising a bag of red and white chess pieces to eye-height.
Finally she decided on one and picked a white figure from the bag, then changed into the clothes.
She tied her hair up in an uncomfortably simple pony tail and left the room. She walked out into the crisp night air and headed towards Harley Street.
It was only just past 11 when she was showing her ID to a curious receptionist. He had every reason to question "Dr Madeleine Clarke" but he let her pass. She side-stepped a grieving widow and walked to the far end of the corridor.
Once Irene had spotted the sign pointing her to Dr Jennifer Greenfield's office she darted round the corner and knocked on the office door.
There was no answer but Irene opened the door to find Jennifer Greenfield's ears plugged in to her iPod which was on its third repeat of "Timewarp". She still didn't notice when Irene cleared her throat loudly, sat in the chair opposite her and poked her shoulder.
"Doctor!"
Dr Greenfield finally yanked out her earphones and span round in her chair.
"I-what!? Who are you!?"
Irene smirked. She supposed she must have looked a lot different without makeup to the poor-sighted woman.
"Don't you recognise me Jennifer?"
"Why would I-?" her cheeks suddenly became very red and she moved her chair back slightly, her voice quivering.
"Miss Adler…?"
"Knew you'd get there eventually darling."
Jennifer Greenfield blushed even more as they both recalled her "appointment" two years ago.
"I take it that husband business worked out in the end then?" Irene smirked again, looking at the ring on her finger.
"I..er..yes. What are you doing here? And why are you pretending to be Madeleine Clarke? She's still on maternity leave."
Irene bit her bottom lip slightly making Dr Greenfield's face go, if it was possible, even redder. It was an uncomfortably familiar expression to her.
"Need to call in a favour. If I remember correctly you said I could "count on you any time". I presume that offer still stands?"
Jennifer moved around in her seat, fidgeting and trying to avoid the question. The last time she'd seen Irene Adler, she had been attached to a leash.
"I erm…I didn't mean…That was a while…What do you want?"
"I want you to empty the clinic. Doctors. Patients. Everyone."
Jennifer spluttered, outraged making Irene giggle; "Wh-I can't possibly-You can't make me-"
Irene raised here eyebrow; the same way she had two years ago. She leant over the desk so their faces were only a few inches apart.
"I do hope you remember our lovely appointment my dear." How could she forget? "I imagine it would be a shame if your husband were to see those photos of us together."
Irene's words had had the desired impact on Dr Jennifer Greenfield for she wiped the sweat from her forehead and looked at her shoes. She didn't know the photos had been wiped by Mycroft long ago.
"Please! You can't! You wouldn't" This made Irene laugh properly;
"And if I remember rightly, those were your exact words two years ago dear" she smiled at Jennifer, "Just empty this place and we can all be on our way. Simple."
Clearly the thought of her husband seeing pictures of Irene whipping her brought Dr Greenfield to sense and she brought the receiver of the phone on her desk to her mouth, her hands shaking. Once she had told the receptionist to clear out the clinic and overheard the intercom she slumped back in her chair.
Irene smiled deviously as they both heard the footsteps of people leaving. At 11:10pm there weren't many still there. When the noises had finally ceased, Irene walked round the desk to face Jennifer Greenfield properly.
"Thank you darling. Was that really so hard?"
"What do you want?" her voice was vulnerable but stubborn.
She barely had time to lift up her hands for defence as Irene seized her hair and collar and slammed her head on the desk. The doctor moaned quietly, still conscious and Irene tutted.
"Haven't you leant not to make a sound?"
After she finally lifted up her head, Irene mercilessly punched her square in the face, knocking her out cold.
She let the unconscious doctor fall to the ground and took out her phone.
Just as his seven layer card tower was having its final layer added for the fifth time, Sherlock's phone moaned, causing his hand to jump and his previous few minutes' efforts to be destroyed. He glared at his phone and read the text.
Something has happened in Harley Street. Very trivial. Not worth your time. Send John-IA
Sherlock grabbed his laptop and quickly searched for any recent incidents in Harley Street. Nothing.
"John!"
"What is it?!" his voice seemed a bit too breathless for someone who'd been sitting on the sofa for the last hour.
"Where was I you said you work?"
"I'm a bit preoccu-Oh never mind…Harley Street!"
"Something's happened. Go and look for me." Sherlock grudgingly got up and walked into the room John and a flustered woman were sitting, ignoring the "hilarious" comedy soap opera in front of them.
"I can't just leave-! Why can't you go? What's happened?"
"Yes you can. Because I don't want to. I don't know." Sherlock and grumbled "I'll "entertain" your date until you get back…She can help me with my experiment which requires my undivided attention" All lies.
"Can't we just-"
"Somebody is dying. They asked to see you before they pass away" Sherlock said flatly.
"God really?" he looked at the woman grimacing, "Mary….You don't mind if I-It'll only take a minute-Could you wait here with Sherlock?"
Mary looked at Sherlock doubtfully but nodded.
"It's fine John. I'll call you tomorrow."
John smiled apologetically, awkwardly kissed her cheek and left while she put her shoes back on.
"So…A consulting detective…? That must be very interesting. Have you had any exciting cases recently..?"
Sherlock shrugged; "Only one where a doctor left one night and came back to murder his wife. She was skinned alive but he avoided the main arteries to exacerbate and prolong the pain. We never did catch him…"
Mary's face was green by the time she bid him farewell and Sherlock went back to his cards.