I'd just like to say thank you so much to everyone who has been reading this story and those who have taken time to review it, I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I love writing it! Also I've decided to set part of this story in Italy as I have been lucky enough to recently visit Tuscany myself and have been studying Italian for four years.

Midnight in her eyes

Montecatini Terme, Italy

Irene wasn't sure whether it was late night or early morning when they finally reached the hotel, all she knew was that she needed sleep. After the taxi ride to Heathrow the hours seemed to all merge into one rushed memory. Both of them had taken the hour they had before boarding to acquire clothing and other essentials, they could go shopping in Italy of course but the lack of both suitcases and hand luggage would seem suspicious; attracting unwanted attention (especially that possibly of Mycroft.).

She couldn't sleep on the flight, never had been able to on planes, so spent most of the flight daydreaming, living in her own perfect world whilst Sherlock remained silent and in his mind palace. She wondered if he ever had fantasies, maybe even about her, she smirked smugly at the possibility. He appeared to be such a unbreakable, emotionless man, but she knew that somewhere under all his braininess that he had a heart. And that it was feasibly her's for the taking.

Now they set to a quick stride on the pavement beside each other, the streets in this area were narrow and extremely desolate in the night, the only signs of inhabitance being the light from the lobby of the hotel and the dotted starlike glow of the few houses which adorned the mountainous backdrops which were almost indistinguishable in the darkness.

'Finally we're here.' Irene half groaned letting Sherlock follow her into the main entrance, she felt exhausted. Irene still wasn't entirely happy with the prospect of becoming now so close to Moran and the constant danger that followed him with every step he took.

The hotel was clean and modern, also fairly small given the location in the town, but it would defiantly satisfy all their needs, out of all the touristic hotels in the area it would take Mycroft quite a while to identify their residence even with his power and connections Sherlock was not unfamiliar to aliases and a tad of bribery (only when necessary.).

Once they had booked the room they were led across the hallway and into the elevator for the top floor. Sherlock wasn't tired at all, quite the opposite actually. He was ashamed to admit that he was rather excited about their little trip, not only in the hope of defeating Moran, but also in the assurance that he had a companion.

Irene was a much different companion to John, although the man was his best friend and they worked very well as a team; Irene had powers of manipulation which he could simply not compare with. They suited different tasks, and in this situation he was convinced that she was perfect for the job.

The only problem with working with Irene was her infatuation with himself and the complications that raised. Sometimes the sheer mystery of herself would distract him to no end. A position which he had repeatedly frequented during his hiatus.

They reached the room and opened the door quickly. The interior was plain but fashionable, mostly featuring a shade of chocolate brown. There was a large bed in the centre of the room facing a window which was surrounded by two matching chairs which looked out of the now closed blinds. A simple en suite was speedily occupied by Irene who took a shower, wanting to go to sleep as soon as possible.

Sherlock sat on the edge of the bed; unpacking what little possessions they had managed to take with them into the wardrobe. He didn't know how long they would be staying here and assumed that they would need another shopping trip sometime in the future.

After they had both showered and dressed Irene turned off the lights and slipped into bed possibly too close than what was acceptable for the platonic nature of their relationship, craving his warmth. 'This morning I came across a possession of mine.' She said catching his attention as he turned on his side to face her.

'And what's that Miss Adler.' He said sounding slightly worried. He only knew of one item of hers he had kept, and he deduced that she would assume was of purely sentimental value, which was defiantly not, that's what he thought anyway. 'My camera phone. I see you kept the password.' She paused before continuing, 'I am Sherlocked.' The words made his heart flutter and he felt as if there were butterflies in his stomach. 'Yes.'

Irene saw his discomfort and laughed softly, 'What I want to know Mr. Holmes is why on earth you would want to keep an empty phone. Sentiment perhaps?' She stated confidently, she was loving this. 'Don't flatter yourself... Goodnight Irene.'

She smirked as she moved her body over him to place the most gentle and fleet of kisses on his perfectly sculpted lips. Her lips were delightfully soft and he stored the sweet taste and beautiful texture of them in his mind palace to never be forgotten. He didn't move his lips the slightest, frozen from shock.

She lay back on her side of the bed before replying 'Goodnight, darling.' She had clearly kissed him purely for a reaction, and that was something Sherlock was not willing to give her, he couldn't let her get the better of him. He didn't need her in a romantic or sexual way (well that's what he convinced himself.) he was asexual and that was the way he liked it. Although he could not deny the peculiar urge he had to now kiss her back, he fought it with all the self control he had and slept instead.

Hours later settled in a calm, comfortable sleep Sherlock was rudely awoken. His eyes squinted at the morning light which seeped through the gap in the curtains but he only realised what; or rather who was his culprit.

Irene tossed and turned in the bed, whimpering loudly her face drenched in tears. Sherlock didn't know what to do, he wasn't used to physically comforting anyone. For moments he just stared at the woman, every second mounting his worry.

He held Irene by her shoulders, she strained under his grasp subconsciously attempting to break free. 'Irene. Irene.' Sherlock said repeatedly, his tone rising in volume with every word. He cursed his instant reaction to comfort her, convincing himself that he was only trying to silence her cries for his benefit.

She gasped as her eyes opened wide. Before he knew it arms were wrapped tightly around him; with a tension that she was unwilling to break. 'Sherlock...' she muffled into the crook of his neck helplessly.

He had never seen her so weak and vulnerable before, not even that night when he unlocked her phone, then she still had dignity in her actions, but now she seemed desperate for aid. He felt her tears dampen his bare chest as he moved her to lay down resting most if her weight on him, never letting his arms leave her body as he did so.

She relaxed leaning her head on his chest, trying to regain control of her breathing as he carefully run his hand up and down her arm. Irene was holding onto him for dear life whilst she adjusted back to reality from her nightmare, still shaking with fear.

'What's wrong?' Sherlock asked quietly when she was calmer. She looked up at him, her hair was tangled and spread messily over his collarbone. The irises of her eyes were hidden by dilated pupils that had the darkness of a midnight that never left.

'You, t-they killed you.' she cried softly once again. She felt so naked, she had never let anyone see her like this, not since she was a child. The dominance and authority she was used to disappeared. In this moment the only desire she had was to be under Sherlock's protection.

He brought her closer and kissed her forehead, not romantically; in a sibling like manner. Part of him told him to push her away, whereas the other kept his arms around her, refusing to let go until she recovered.

Sherlock wasn't familiar with the concept of cuddling or snuggling and neither was Irene. She fell asleep quite quickly, laying against her now protective Sherlock. Admiring his toned torso, running her still shaking fingers in random patterns over his muscles relaxing herself. He watched her, fighting a grin and almost shivering from her feather like touches.

They didn't need words in the time they held each other before they fell asleep one again. Irene felt a flood of relief come over her, he was safe, she was safe and they didn't need anyone else. She trusted him, she knew that they would return to London successful and most importantly, alive.