How do you reckon you spell Irene's text alert noise?

Chapter 12

"Someone's dying!? Where the hell did you get that from Sherlock!?" John stormed past him, throwing off his jacket and hitting his hand on the lamp; "Damn it!" he clutched his hand and glowered.

"What was there?" Sherlock said, amused.

John glared at him but said "Some nutcase forced a senior doctor to clear the entire clinic, then knocked her out. No reason at all! Nothing taken and the doctor won't tell anyone anything. She claims she slipped but the bruising…"

Sherlock smirked at Irene's little ploy. "Was there anything?"

"No noth-Oh wait there was this. The doctor said it wasn't hers. Probably was just left there accidentally by someone" John held up a white chess piece. The king. Sherlock recognised it instantly as a piece from the board he'd been given. He alone knew what it meant. His turn.

Sherlock spent weeks thinking about what he was supposed to do to get the other pieces. The whole thing was a game and he was meant to work out the rules. Did she want him to find her? Chase her? Yes that sounded like Irene.

Although he remained a little too hopeful for his own liking, Irene didn't contact him for four months. After the fifth, Sherlock gave up. She hadn't forgotten him he was sure but where was she?

Over those five months many of his cases had ended with more missing chess pieces. Sherlock was nearing a full set, still unsure about what to do. All he was missing was the red queen. Even after the countless suggestions from John to just use the pieces he'd rescued from the old set, Sherlock kept the board hidden away in his bedroom, refusing to touch it until he had all the pieces.

He decided to plot the points of Irene's crimes on a map of London. When he drew the lines connecting the points it spelled out a date; 21.6.12

When this day finally came Sherlock didn't notice. He had been, yet again, trying to no avail to change his website title back from "The Science of Seduction" which now held a detailed list of "The Top Ten Ways To Get A Detective In Bed" and "His Favourite Positions". Sherlock grumbled. There had already been an alarming array of comments and photos as replies to the new posts.

Let's have dinner-IA

Sherlock jumped. Why was she contacting him now? Five months. That was almost the longest she'd gone without texting him. He didn't see any point in asking what she'd been doing in between her petty crimes. Sherlock doubted he really wanted to know how a woman like Irene Adler spent her free time.

It's 1 o clock. That would be unwise-SH

Her reply raised a tiny smile on Sherlocks face.

Let's have lunch-IA

Sherlock didn't exactly have any cases. He knew what "lunch" or "dinner" meant and was uninterested by that prospect but nevertheless…He had to admit it to himself. He wanted to see her. No, not see. Check she was alive.

Where?-IA

Where else my dear? My house-IA

As Sherlock sat for a moment, gazing lovingly at his skull, he wished he was capable of feeling more than indifference for anything animate. He didn't feel indifference for Irene Adler. He wasn't sure what he felt for her.

Almost automatically, he stood up, grabbed his coat despite the warm weather and left the flat.

"Where are you going?" John blocked his way out, his hands full with bags of shopping.

Sherlock shrugged "Hunting" he nodded at his harpoon.

"Is it a case?" John's expression remained suspicious but he let Sherlock pass as he was pointing a harpoon at him.

Sherlock briefly wondered whether Irene's "assistant" Kate would still be there to greet him and confiscate his harpoon as he rang the doorbell but he was lucky.

A red nail-polished hand curled around the door and pulled it open, revealing her.

She hadn't changed much since their last encounter. Her hair was a little longer, her skin a little paler, one of her more "toned-down" white dresses stopping at her knee and most noticeably, a soft almost friendly gaze looking back at him. Maybe she was ill. Her usual smirk returned when she saw the harpoon in his hand. She leaned against the doorframe for a second looking him up and down too then;

"You're late"

Sherlock shrugged and followed her quietly up the stairs and into the room of their first meeting. It was almost exactly the same.

Sherlock picked a gun off the floor, sceptically; "Is this your way of preparing for my visit?"

Irene smiled "Well you brought a harpoon" she slid the gun out of his hand and returned it to the safe behind the mirror.

As she was typing in a slightly different passcode Sherlock smiled, "Have you gained weight? It looks like the password is higher than last time"

This brought painful results. She didn't slap him, drug him or beat him like during their first meeting but her kick caused him to sprawl onto the sofa, banging his head on the arm of it.

"Ouch." He muttered flatly but Irene just smirked. "You took down your "The Woman" website."

He wasn't particularly interested in why she had but he was curious what she was doing now.

"You checked? I'm flattered."

"Don't be"

"I suppose you could say I moved on to better things" she smiled, not giving anything away and Sherlock rolled his eyes. He was secretly glad. It wasn't jealousy he felt for her male and female clients. He hoped not anyway. The world's greatest detective does not get jealous. He moved uncomfortably in his seat when he realised he wasn't the world's greatest detective when she was around. Fantastic.

"I'm glad you came to visit although you needn't have brought the harpoon. I was just hungry and I didn't want to eat on my own. Kate wasn't here today."

Sherlock's brain shivered. Her words were one big euphemism and he knew where he fit into it.

"I'm not hungry" He didn't break her gaze but regretted his choice of words. She surprised him however;

"Well I'm starving darling" her smirk was back. Sherlock's mind was panicking as her face drew closer.