Yearnin'
Sherlock, John and Mary stood in the hallway of 221B Baker Street awaiting Irene's arrival, always one to be fashionably late John thought as he made small talk with his date, she was dressed in a strapless black dress which John thought she looked stunning in; her long blonde hair in large ringlets cascaded around her shoulders.
Just a moment later Irene descended the stairway. All three heads turned immediately, she was wearing a blood red dress which hugged her figure perfectly; matched with high heels and a clutch bag of the same colour, she did not apologise for her tardiness. 'Everyone ready?' She smiled as she watched Sherlock gape rather briefly at her appearance; looking her up and down. 'How do I look?' 'F-fine.' Sherlock stuttered before returning to his emotionless attitude.
Irene truly was the only person in the whole world who could ever make him stutter. But he couldn't help himself, he may even go as far as to say she looked beautiful, though with most other things that he thought of her he concluded that he would never speak of his true feelings and opinions of her, it was a sign of sentiment, and sentiment was weakness.
Her red painted, full lips placed a peck of a kiss to his cheek as she intertwined their fingers together. Oh she was enjoying this so much, playing Sherlock's partner for the night was just too fun, not only did she have a valid excuse to flirt with him but he wouldn't be able to stop her.
'...taxi's just outside.' John said fighting the awkwardness that Mary clearly did not recognise, but then again she did think this a perfectly normal encounter when in reality it was an extremely unlikely situation.
The four of them exited the front door, 'Don't take it too far.' Sherlock half whispered half hissed, 'Oh I'm not making any promises.' She purred seductively into his ear as he led her into the taxi.
John called out the name of the restaurant to the driver, an Italian one by the sounds of it. Irene and Mary engaged in a conversation, seemingly boring and uninteresting, Mary mentioned her job she worked as a nanny for a wealthy family, she was a nice enough woman, a bit chatty for Sherlock and Irene mind. All was calm and fine until she asked a question which none of them would want to answer, 'What do you work as Irene?'
'Erm...' She said, this was an unusual occasion where she had no idea how to answer a question, 'She's a...' John attempted to help. 'Singer.' Sherlock lied, it was a silly thing to say when he had no idea whether she could sing or not.
She turned to him giving him a look that seemed to say 'Thank you.' Irene in fact was quite a talented singer, dabbling in it during her teenage years along with dance and acting.
The conversations and small talk continued until they reached the restaurant. It was certainly quite pricy, the building had a modern white exterior which had a path of neatly trimmed evergreen bushes on either side of the doorway. They were led inside to find the restaurant rather busy, though it was a Saturday night, 'Oh, this is nice!' Mary said excitedly; smiling to John.
Sherlock huffed, 'Cheer up dear, it won't be that bad.' She said in a tone too low for the other couple to hear, she sounded genuinely comforting towards him, maybe she wasn't going to be too harsh tonight.
Sherlock was seated next to Irene and opposite John, he watched the couple in front of him shamelessly flirting and laughing at each-other's jokes, how tedious being in a relationship must be he thought. Irene tugged at his arm lightly and he sharply turned her head to face her. 'Let's have some fun shall we.' She smirked as his eyebrows knitted together in confusion, 'What do you make of that woman over there, blue dress; red hair.' He spotted her immediately and took only five seconds to think and deduce.
'Mid thirties married twice though she was always the one to divorce the other, she's on a date with her boss obvious from his clothing, hasn't even bothered changing from work still in the same suit, doesn't make much effort but she doesn't seem to mind, given the more expensive nature of this establishment she recommended it but is most defiantly not paying a single penny-.'
She cut him off, 'She's a gold digger, that's a pricy dress yet it has the remains of several stains that she has attempted to erase, but she still wears it because she can't afford a new one, none of her husbands ever trusted her, when she divorced she received no money, she gets bored of the same person and is prepared to move on to the next whenever as long as they are richer.' She sat back in her chair and held a gaze with Sherlock for longer than was socially acceptable.
When they turned back around they found a annoyed John and an astonished Mary staring straight at them. 'You're a detective aren't you?' Mary said recalling from what John had mentioned of Sherlock in the past. 'A consulting detective. The only one in the world.' Irene said looking into Sherlock's icy blue eyes admirably.
John cleared his throat ending the silence that hung around them, a waiter came to the table, 'Ready to order?' He asked.
The meal went on as monotonously as Sherlock had predicted, why were people so boring and ordinary; even Irene was joining in with their conversations, the only entertainment he got was from deducing the people in the restaurant, sometimes impressing Irene with his deductions.
Later on the four of them were eating their desserts, Sherlock's ice cream remained untouched as he stared at a group of people intently. 'Don't look now, but I think we have ourselves some suspects.'
'What do you mean?' After a few seconds she took a peek from the corner of the eye, at the table sat a group of 5 men all dressed in expensive suits, chatting, laughing and drinking. 'Italians.' She said noticing they were speaking the language. 'Well we are in an Italian restaurant, it's not anything out of the ordinary.' He said.
'Then why did you point them out to me?' She asked curiously. 'Because I heard a name. Moran.'
She looked up to him alarmed, Moran was planning something that was for sure. 'Whats wrong you two?' A tipsy John said. Sherlock scowled at him, he despised drunk people, what a stupid waste of time, he couldn't even begin to understand why anyone would want to make their nervous system even slower than usual.
'Excuse me.' Irene spoke sitting up from her chair, she was obviously going to investigate. She knew a fair amount of Italian and would be able to pick out any suspicious words or phrases. She walked pass the table going to the ladies bathrooms, luckily it was in the direction of the table, dropping her bag a table away she slowly bent down to pick it up, listening carefully to their conversation.
In the heavily accented voices she made out a word, one that she was dreading, "Sherlock." She swallowed hard and took a deep breath as she entered the toilets. She reapplied her blood red lipstick and perfected her already immaculate hair style. It was inevitable that Moran would be after Sherlock sooner or later but this had come as rather a shock.
But she knew he would be fine. After all he was the one who saved her, faked his own death and overcome numerous criminals in his time as a detective. Moran would just be another case to solve. She convinced herself this.
Returning to the table Sherlock turned to her, 'Anything?' He asked. 'They said your name.' Irene said looking down into your hands, he could tell that she was worried for him. He took her hand comforting her.
'We need to leave.' Sherlock whispered. Just in time their waiter placed the bill on the table, Sherlock and John hurried to pay it. 'Sherlock what's going on?' John said in a serious tone. 'Moran's men.' He said in means of explanation.
'They look like...the Mafia or something!' John exclaimed, as Sherlock had a sudden moment of realisation, of course they were the Mafia, the elderly criminal organisation that was growing with new, young members. How did they not see this before, it was Sebastian's doing, the man was fond of helping other organisations to extort future favour as was Moriarty. What was most worrying was the fact that that favour could be to destroy Sherlock Holmes.
'Irene, Mary I need to take a picture of them, don't mind covering for me do you?' He asked a bit too forcefully. Without asking questions they stood in the direction of the men and smiled as if posing for a normal photograph.
'Sherlock we need to leave, now.' Irene said, she was right if they were recognised they had no hope in defeating them. She looked up at him with worried eyes, he put a hand on her shoulder and led them outside.
Irene was shivering in her thin dress even though it was moderately warm; for a British summer night anyway, 'Here.' Sherlock said handing her his jacket. She smiled and took it obediently, he really could be a gentleman when he wanted to be.
They haled a taxi and rushed inside, Sherlock sitting close to Irene, the last thing he wanted her to be was worried for him. Personally he was a lot more concerned about protecting her.
'221B Baker Street.' John instructed the driver; and they drove off into the night.