Back to our dear Harry and Clara. You didn't think I would forget about them, did you?
Harry looked at her phone with extreme interest. She really couldn't tell if this was a joke, but then again, Irene Adler didn't tend to joke about meeting people. Or mind-blowing sex.
She'd called Irene a few months after she left Clara, depressed, sexually frustrated, and generally in need of something besides alcohol. Harry had heard about The Woman from a friend, in whispered tones, like Irene was some sort of goddess. And did Harry ever need a goddess.
"Hello?" a silky voice answered.
"Are you The Woman?" She couldn't help but whisper the name, too.
"No, but I am her personal assistant. May I help you?"
Harry bit her lip. "I would like to make an appointment. My name is Harry Watson."
The assistant smiled, Harry could tell. "I'll be right back with my mistress." God, that lady had a sexy voice. Maybe The Woman kept her around just for that.
"Are you related to a Dr. John Watson, perhaps?" Now, this voice was not messing around. How did Harry get so lucky to be acquainted with such sexy-voiced women?
"Yeah, he's my brother."
"He's my brother, madam."
Harry shivered. Damn, she was getting hot and bothered already. "Madam."
"Hm. Interesting." She paused. "I'll see you at 12 pm at this address." The Woman gave the address.
"Yes, thank you."
"Thank you, madam. Will I have to punish you for not calling me by my proper title?"
Harriet Watson swallowed. "Yes, of course, madam."
And there went the smiling through the phone again. "Goodbye."
That wasn't the last time. Exactly seventeen times after that, Irene called her, and she came. The Woman told Harry once or twice that she was much more interesting than her brother. When Irene had met John, Harry didn't know, but if it got her amazing sex, she could afford to look the other way.
Now, after a month of absolutely nothing, Irene texted her. Said to come to an apartment, a specific one. Never the same place twice, but this was new. Harry didn't remember what was at that building, but was entirely beyond caring.
Clara glanced at her mobile for a moment, noticing a new text from one of her friends. It said that she wanted to meet at the flat Clara had recently vacated. She wasn't sure why, but it said 12 pm, like when they always met. Clara shrugged and put her phone back into her pocket.
Her shift, well, her extra shift, would be over in a few minutes, and then she could meet Irene and see what she wanted to talk about.
Clara never went to pubs. Ever. She just didn't. However, this time, a group of her friends had dragged her along. She sat awkwardly in the corner, nursing a small shot of vodka that she hadn't touched since she'd arrived. The people-watching was fun, though.
Her friends were getting more and more drunk, and Clara could see that two of them were almost intoxicated enough to get a room. She smiled. Seriously, how long could the sexual tension between Liz and Camille go? Will and Grant were dancing (very suggestively) for a group of girls over on the other side of the pub. Most people weren't alone, either talking to or at least cavorting with others. But Clara was by herself.
In a few more minutes, the pub door opened. A very beautiful young woman walked (actually, strutted) inside, and scanned the room. More than half the people turned their heads to see her. Clara noticed, but didn't make a move like the twenty others. She saw that the woman was sad, and wanted to be left alone. Of course, no one else saw that.
She turned away from the scene and drank her shot, wincing at the burn as it came down her throat. "You seem unfamiliar with alcohol," a gorgeous voice noticed. Clara looked at the speaker, realizing that it was the woman.
"Yes, mysterious woman, you may sit next to me," Clara sniped.
"I don't ask for permission." She crossed her legs, folding her hands over them. Clara hadn't seen it before, but the woman was wearing a very expensive, fifties-style dress, hair perched on top of her head. Yet, this woman looked nervous, like she hadn't grown into herself.
"I can see that," Clara answered instead. "Now, what brings you to my solitary corner of the pub. I'm not as impressive as some of them."
"But, you are." Clara gave her a strange look. "You saw me as more than a sexual magnet."
"However sexy and delicious I find you, I have to respect that you need some space. Something happen?" Clara was surprised at how fast that came out of her mouth. Normally, she was as censored as a rap song on the radio.
The woman nodded, a hardened gaze crossing her face. "A bad breakup. I'm finished with people commanding me, people trying to control me. I'm done with people standing over me. Do you know how that feels?" She unfolded her hands. "I couldn't even get off from it."
"Wait. So, your last partner dominated you? Were you consenting or did they...?" Clara asked, leaning forward. If this woman needed help, Clara was happy to provide it.
"No. Nothing that bad. But I was assaulted."
Clara couldn't help herself. She threw her arms around the young woman that had been used like that. "I'm sorry. That's awful and should never have happened. Domination should always be consenting and your partner was a sick bitch."
The woman sounded taken aback. "I don't...you don't even know me and you're treating me like a friend? Why?"
Clara pulled back more. "Everyone deserves to be treated right, whether I know them very well or not. My name's Clara Peters."
"Irene Adler."
She looked Irene over. "If you want someplace to sleep, or some comfort, my doors are wide open."
Irene grinned savagely, like a predator. "Will you take me home? Show me what domination is supposed to be like?"
Clara took her hand. "Yes." Plus, she'd get to sleep next to someone tonight.
Clara had been friends with Irene for years now, friends with benefits mostly, until she met Harry. The first thing Clara did after meeting the short brunette was call The Woman (she'd helped with the nickname) and gush about her new crush. Irene was almost more excited than Clara, since she'd been setting the blonde up for a while.
Harry hadn't realized it, but Irene had been a part of the relationship since the beginning.
When the marriage went south, Clara met with Irene soon after, crying and unable to sleep. The friends with benefits thing became more: a very good friendship with the occasional favor. They made time to go to coffee at least once a week, just talking about anything. Things were bearable for a while, and Irene was (finally) in a healthy relationship with her secret personal assistant, Kate, who also happened to be Clara's manager at Tesco. Weird.
Clara received the text to meet at 12 pm, thinking Irene wanted to have some serious words about Harry turning up again. But, it didn't end up like that.
Irene Adler waited in the sitting room for her two lovely girls to arrive. Harriet would likely be a minute late, since it got her more punishment, which she greatly enjoyed. Clara, on the other hand, would come directly on time. It gave Irene a chance to slightly explain what she was going to do.
See, Irene was sick of her best friend and ex-wife not getting along, especially since Harry shouted Clara's name during sex, and Clara was ignoring her need for sleep and someone that loved her to stupidly avoid getting her heart broken again. Irene really did understand where Clara was coming from, but Harriet was just as miserable, perhaps even more so. Harriet was going through withdrawal concerning the blonde, and it was killing her more than the alcohol in Irene's opinion. Clara couldn't sleep and worked herself to death, taking extra shifts every single day. Besides, they loved each other. And love was worth it.
So, Irene was going to refuse to let Clara and Harry out of the flat until they had either resolved their differences and moved on, or (and Irene really desired this outcome) had gorgeous makeup sex, including Irene in the party. She wasn't picky about the differences part, but she quite wanted both of her girls on the bed, naked and glistening and treating her and themselves.
Clara arrived at the flat with a couple of minutes to spare. She quickly looked at her reflection in the cab window and then went inside.
...
Harry got to the meeting place, which, for some reason, was Clara's old building. She was wearing some nicer clothes, her usual fare for meeting the dominatrix, and almost late. Harry glanced at the clock on her mobile: 12 pm.
...
"Alright, Irene. How are you? More importantly, what's this about? I told you, I'll confront Harry...sometime."
Irene rolled her eyes. "Yes, right. Well, you're in luck today."
Clara warily stared at her. "What did you do?"
"I texted her, same as you."
She groaned loudly. "Why did you do that? I was going to do this on my own terms."
Irene laughed. "I'm quite demanding, love. My terms are the only terms I care about. Especially when you're stalling."
A knock sounded at the door. "Aren't you going to open the door, dear Clara?" Irene asked, raising a perfectly plucked eyebrow.
Clara sighed deeply, walking to the door. Putting her hand on the handle, she turned it and opened the door.
...
Harry knocked once, stepping back a step. She thought she heard more than one voice in the room, but wasn't worried at all. In fact, a threesome sounded great. Actually, anything with Irene Adler sounded great.
When the door was opened, it wasn't by Irene, or even the potential threesome partner. It was Clara.
Clara folded her arms. "Come in. It appears we both have been tricked." Irene smirked at her, but Harry looked like someone just told her the rockets strapped to her feet were about to blast off. Harry looked pretty damn sexy, but Clara couldn't acknowledge that yet.
"Yes. I do enjoy it sometimes. I have an ultimatum for the two of you."
Clara glared at her friend. "Let's hear it."
"The hostility is unnecessary, dear. You and your lovely bride aren't leaving this flat until I say so. If you've successfully worked things out, in a way I see fit, you can go, but not until then." Irene gracefully pranced up the spiral staircase leading to Clara's bedroom. "I'll leave you two alone, but I'm going to check on you both periodically."
"Got it," Harry said numbly. Clara couldn't smell any beer or whiskey on her yet; maybe she tried to be sober when meeting Irene.
The Woman walked into Clara's old room and shut the door, while Clara sat down on the couch, patting the spot next to her. Harry plopped down, fidgeting with a cheap bracelet on her wrist. They stayed silent for a few minutes, not looking at each other.
"So," Harry said. "If we're stuck here, I need to say something."
"Go ahead."
Harry looked Clara straight in the eye. "I will never be able to make up for what I did to you and to me when I left you. No matter how many sorries I say, or how many times I kiss you, or how many times I tell you I love you, it won't change the fact that I made a horrible mistake and you should really let me go."
Clara shook her head. "You never change, do you? The whole self-hating, 'the world doesn't like me' crap because of alcoholism and a general lack of love concerning yourself. You gave me a speech like this a few nights ago." Of course, Harry said she probably wouldn't remember that phone call, but Clara had to bring it up anyway.
"What speech? When was...?" Harry suddenly got an epiphany face. "Oh."
"Yes, 'oh'. You told me all sorts of things, mainly that you were sorry and your brother and his boyfriend were doing exactly what we are doing, with the feelings avoidance and things like that. And you...you called me beautiful and amazing and smart about these kinds of feelings." Clara's face reddened, but it felt normal. When she was married to Harry, the brunette called her all sorts of wonderful things and it elicited the same reaction. The thing was that you never got used to being called beautiful.
People saw it in movies all the time: happy couples flinging pretty phrases at each other, but it was more than the shallow emotion they showed. When someone called you beautiful, you were done for. Every time it was said was like the first time. The fluttering in your stomach, the crazy fast heartbeat, the glow in your face, those things didn't just disappear.
"I meant it," Harry said. "You are all of those things and more."
Clara held a hand up. "You can keep up with the complements later, Harriet. Why did you leave me, and be honest."
Harry looked down. Clara thought she could see a small teardrop fall from her eyes. "When I started drinking, I didn't think it would ever get that bad. But it was a fucking downward spiral and I couldn't control it. Everything got worse and worse, and you were so unhappy, and I couldn't look myself in the mirror knowing I'd done that to you. Clara, I left because I loved you, and I didn't want to hurt you anymore." Her tone got more and more hysterical and sad and teary as she spoke.
Clara bit her lip to keep from crying too. "I will always be worse off without my Harriet."
"I didn't know that," Harry protested wetly. "I had this crazy idea that we'd get better, but I ended up a shit-faced drunk on the side of the road, and you...you obviously weren't okay. I checked on you with Kate every time I came to Tesco, before I wanted to take you back, and she said you'd picked up a bunch of shifts, and couldn't sleep, and was just functioning, not living. I was so convinced..." She broke off, covering her face to wipe off tears. Clara hadn't seen Harry wear mascara very often, so to see it running in black streaks down her cheeks really sucked.
"Come here," Clara whispered. Harry gratefully collapsed into her wife's arms, sobbing fully now. "I felt like absolute shit when you left, and John tried his best to help with a shoulder to cry on every once in a while, and Irene did her best as well, but nothing could replace you. And damn, I wanted it to. I wanted there to be some sort of something I could turn to in order to make things better, but nothing worked." She paused. "I still loved you. I still love you. So I can't let you go again. Even if you want to fix things by leaving again, it won't work. I will stay with you."
"Say you love me one more time," Harry breathed once she'd calmed down a little. "Just please."
"I love you." Clara planted a kiss on Harry's forehead.
Harry laughed. "You know, I've always been able to see when people are in love. Always. When John fell for Sherlock, when Sherlock fell for John, when Irene fell for Kate, when John fell for Grace the first time. But with you, I never knew for sure."
"That's why..."
"That's why I ask you all the time, because I'm scared I'll wake up sometime and you won't."
Clara cradled Harry in her arms for a moment. "We can't pretend this didn't happen, you know."
"Oh, hell no. But we can try to fix our marriage. We never signed divorce papers though, so technically, you're still Mrs. Watson."
Clara smiled. "How are we going to start, Mrs. Watson?"
Harry laughed. "I miss makeup sex quite a bit, but we don't have to do that for a while if you don't want to."
"Hm..." Clara slid over the top of Harry, running a finger over her wife's lips. "I would enjoy that very much."
Irene could hear them crying below, and it got her very interested in a probably inappropriate way considering the circumstances, but it was worth it.
She was just about to check on them when she heard a knock at the door. "Can we come in?" Clara huffed.
Later, when the happy couple was asleep, Irene quietly and carefully dressed as to not wake them. She really had made a good decision tricking the two lovebirds. And to make it even better, she heard Sherlock and Johnny had gotten together. The days were getting perfect again.
Irene smirked. She had a wonderful girlfriend to pleasure when she got home.
I hope I gave those two a proper getting-back-together scene. Please tell me what you thought of it. Read + review, lovelies!