Here you go! The Doctor and Tabitha finally (kind of!) meet! I hope you like this chapter. It's a bit of a filler. Thanks for the lovely reviews and follows and favorites!

CHAPTER 7 - That Was An Offer, Dear

The woman turned her face away from her phone in surprise at Tabitha's words.

"The rumors about you are true," she hummed, back to texting.

"What rumors?" Tabitha asked, curious. She had tried her best to keep attention away from herself, but she supposed that being around Sherlock had drawn attention to her anyway. She looked out the window at the passing streets and buildings.

"You know all about the little secrets we are trying to keep."

"Do you know my story?"

"I have been told what you think happened to you."

"I really don't care of you believe me."

"I know."

00000000000000000000000000000000000

Their drive lasted half an hour. They finally pulled up next to an abandoned factory, and the chauffer opened up the door for the women. Tabitha followed the woman inside, lazily glancing around the big building. It was cleaned up and bare. It almost looked like the place that John had found out Irene wasn't dead the first time, but it wasn't exactly like. Very similar, though. The woman nodded toward a door down the corridor.

"In there."

"Thank you," Tabitha answered, a bit excited to meet the famous Irene Adler. She pushed open the door and stepped in, letting it close silently behind her. She looked around the big warehouse area, and took a few slow steps forward. Her hands were clasped in front of her. "Ms. Adler, you wanted to see me?" Tabitha called out, her voice echoing. She heard clicking of heels and turned her head to the left to see Irene walk regally into the open space.

"You story is unbelievable," Irene murmured, holding onto a black clutch in her hands. She was wearing a dark purple dress that matched the white dress that Tabitha had first seen her wear on the show. Her black high heels were stylish and sexy. The woman moved to stand in front of Tabitha, looking her up and down. "Yet, there is no other explanation."

"I don't lie," Tabitha answered with wide smile, her hands staying in their clasped position in front of her. "Unless I have no choice," she added with a chuckle. Irene smiled at her, an honest and admiring smile. Tabitha turned and walked toward a metal box-like appendage that was attached to the wall. She pulled herself up to sit on it, and put her hands beside her. "When you were alone with Sherlock, did you do a scene with him?"

Irene raised an eyebrow and moved to lean against the same attachment. She looked forward, but used her peripheral sight to smirk at Tabitha while studying her. Tabitha had many more questions, but didn't want to push the moment of honesty here. Irene chuckled and kept silent about the question. Tabitha sighed, a bit irritated that the question wasn't answered.

"Someone just had a lovely afternoon," Irene answered with a knowing grin on her face. She moved to turn her body to face the girl. Tabitha took a moment to think about if she should answer it – why not, it was obvious to Irene, anyway.

"Who knew Sherlock was that talented at sex?" Tabitha answered with a shrug. Irene's eyes widened, and her mouth opened with a big grin. Tabitha smirked back at the woman, and changed the subject. "Why are you keeping tabs on Sherlock? Trying to keep his virtue safe?"

"If I were, I failed, don't you say?"

"Completely," Tabitha nodded. She hopped down onto the floor, and put her hands on her hips as she faced the extravagant woman in beside her. "Enough chitchat. Do you want something from me?"

"Other than to beat you? Nothing important. I just wanted to see if you were what they all said you were." Irene pulled away with a bored look, obviously done with Tabitha. She started to walk away, but turned around to find Tabitha still in her place, with a wide grin on her face. "That was an offer, dear."

"Very tempting," Tabitha flirted, relaxing her posture. "If Sherlock doesn't keep me satisfied, I'll be sure to find you."

Irene turned around with a chuckle as she slinked across the room and out another door, her heels clicking and the echoes following her past the door. Tabitha waited until she couldn't hear Irene anymore and turned back towards the door. She walked through it and nodded to the woman who was patiently waiting for her. They left the building and made their way back to Baker Street.

During the ride, the woman was busy doing who-knows-what on her phone, and Tabitha watched the London landscape while she thought. Irene was watching Sherlock – that was obvious. It was obvious why she was doing it – she cared about him. In the end, after everything that happened, Irene still cared for Sherlock. She also knew that he would never look at her again, in any way, shape, or form.

We've left on a case – JW

Tabitha realized something as she turned away from her phone that Irene had said during their conversations – I just wanted to see if you were what they all said you were. Who was they, and what did they say about her? She gritted her teeth in annoyance and glanced at the woman beside her. Nothing out of the ordinary. She turned back toward the window, noticing they were almost to the flat. She wondered if these people had something to do with her appearance into this television show.

00000000000000000000000000000000

When Tabitha got back, the apartment was empty, just as she had expected. The boys wouldn't be back for a while, so might as well finish the book she had been reading earlier. She picked it up off the coffee table and laid on the couch, her feet stretched out in front of her. A few moments after she had finally started to get back into her reading headspace, a knock on the door sounded. She raised an eyebrow as she placed the book down on the table and walked over. She opened it to find a teenage boy with an envelope in her hand.

"Some guy paid me 50 pounds to give this to you," he said with a shrug. He was chewing gum, and he popped it as he shoved the envelope into her hands. He rushed downstairs and Tabitha slowly shut the door. She studied the envelope as she sat down. It was a small envelope, slightly yellowed with age. Holding the flap down was a wax seal. It looked rather old, like someone had been waiting for this time. Who was it from? All that was on the front was her name – Tabitha Hunter.

She slouched on the couch and carefully opened the envelope. She took out the later and unfolded it. The script was in cursive, but in a messy, manly type of writing.

Ms. Tabitha Hunter,

I am so very sorry about all this. The TARDIS has a mind of its own. At the moment, I am not able to bring you back to your universe. My blue box has seemed to take longer to repair itself than usual – I must have fried some important parts. In all honesty, it was entirely the TARDIS's fault. She decided to play around with dimensions and send you into the Sherlock television show. I suppose you already know that. I promise I will get there as soon as I can!

The Doctor

After reading it a few more times, Tabitha looked away, confused. She sighed and leaned back, staring into space. This doctor and his blue box was to blame for this happening? Before all this, she would have thought whoever sent this letter was out of their mind. Now, she just wanted this doctor to get here and explain things to her. Thinking about leaving, though, made her slightly depressed.

Tabitha hummed to herself as she stood up and started to make caramel pecan bars from scratch. The process took about three hours, and by the time John and Sherlock stumbled in, she was just bringing them out of the oven.

"Were you the chase-ee or the chas-er?" she called out as she took the oven mitts off her hands. She turned and smiled at the men who were pulling their coats off, John taking in deep breaths and both glistening with a little bit of sweat. Sherlock ignored her comment and made a beeline for his office cove, mumbling to himself with his studious face.

"We almost got him," John finally said, plopping into a kitchen chair and eyeing the baked goods. He ran a hand through his messy hair and looked up at the ceiling. "I don't think I'll be able to see Mary tonight…"

"Why not?" Tabitha asked, moving towards the counter to pick up a take-away menu. She looked over it, deciding what she wanted for dinner tonight.

"I just ran ten blocks."

"No bad," Tabitha chuckled, finally figuring out what she wanted. After making a quick dinner call as John picked up her own phone, she sat next to him, speaking up only when he had put down the phone. "So?"

"We're meeting an half an hour," John said with a grin.

"Mary and you were meant to be, you know," Tabitha said, raising her eyebrows at him. He rolled his eyes, but Tabitha could see the blush on his cheeks as he grinned.

"That's completely stupid," Sherlock interrupted, barging into the room with flair. He wondered around the living room, searching for something in the stacks of books and papers that littered the room. He growled to himself as he pushed a whole stack of loose papers to the floor and moving across the room to a stack of books. "It's here, I know it is!"

"If you tell us what you're looking for, maybe we can help," Tabitha answered politely. John got up and went to get ready for his date as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening. She realized that this was something he was used to happening. Tabitha hadn't seen Sherlock that much in the last week or so she had been living here, so it was still new to her.

Sherlock made an irritated noise and scurried through the kitchen, peaking at every spot on the counters and tables. Tabitha watched him with her eyebrows raised, and he turned quickly to her. She blinked at him, holding his stare for a few moments, feeling her heart race speed up. She licked her bottom lip, and he seemed to glare at her.

"Ah ha!" he cried, pulling his gaze away from hers and pulling a file out from under her arm on the table. Tabitha got her breathing under control as he plopped down at his desk and began to look through the papers. His dark hair wasn't under control at all, and his hand swept through it repeatedly as he mumbled to himself and shuffled through papers. He had changed into a t-shirt, pajama bottoms, and his blue dressing gown. Tabitha smirked – it looked great on him. If only she could see him casual outside of the flat.

There was a knock at the door and Tabitha grabbed the ordered food just as John came out of his bedroom. Tabitha hummed in approval as she caught the scent of a very nice cologne that he had thrown on. He looked handsome in his jeans and jumper, and the smug look on his face made Tabitha want to wish him luck on getting laid. Tabitha snorted at the thought, and John looked at her confused as he pulled on his coat and headed toward the door.

"Don't get into any trouble," he ordered, pointing a finger at her. He glanced at Sherlock, and then raised his eyebrows at Tabitha. "Well, don't try to get into trouble, hm?"

"Never!" Tabitha laughed as he left. She set up her dinner on the coffee table and took a seat on the floor in front of the couch. Tabitha turned on the television and watched some odd British show that she really didn't think was all that funny. She didn't even want to know the name of it! "What's this case about?" she asked Sherlock. When he didn't answer, Tabitha turned, picked up a couch pillow, and threw it at him. It hit him on the side of his head, and he looked over at her with annoyance. She grinned at him, and his face softened. Tabitha could have sworn he almost smiled.

"I do listen to you," he reassured her with a smirk and a mumble, turning back to his papers. He shuffled through a few, and begun to type on his computer keyboard. "I've seen you read the papers, you should know. Three women have been murdered, all with the same 16 stab wounds. They don't seem to be connected, but I know there is something that I've stored away."

"Have you checked your palace?" Tabitha asked, taking a bite and looking at Sherlock with interest. He stopped what he was doing and turned his body toward her in his chair. He leaned back a bit, his elbow resting on the table with his finger near his mouth. His other hand was laying on his knee.

"I've never mentioned my mind palace," he stated, studying her body language.

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