Chapter 17
Like a Moth to a Flame
Irene Adler
"Tell me," Irene whispered into the man's ear licking the outer lobe as she caressed the man's body causing him to shudder with arousal. After a month of searching, she had finally found her mark. This man would lead them to the camp where John Watson had been taken prisoner. Sherlock and Irene had so far been able to only get bits and pieces of intel despite Sherlock's deductions and Irene using her sexual prowess to extort information. They were able to confirm that John Watson was indeed alive and being held prisoner, what they had yet to discover is where. But hopefully, after tonight, they would have their answer.
Irene thought back to the day that Sherlock had arrived in Afghanistan. She hadn't recognized him at first. He was a wraith. He looked haggard, emaciated, and sick. "Sherlock…what's happened to you?" She had asked. Sherlock had closed his eyes and taken a deep breath before meeting her stare with eyes that looked haunted.
"It started with Moriarty. He forced my hand. He threatened everything that I held dear, including John. I had to fall, and then I became a ghost and began to take apart his web piece by piece, until there was just one thread left, but I was too late." Sherlock murmured.
Irene squinted and gazed at Sherlock critically. There was emotion burning just below the surface. "You've changed. It's not a game anymore, is it?" There was no malice in the softly spoken words, only sympathy. Sherlock nodded stiffly looking ashamed having his words thrown back at him, albeit kindly.
"This is losing." He whispered in a hoarse voice. "I have to find him." Irene nodded, unwilling to press any further. Irene then moved towards him and whispered in his ear.
"I have a good idea where to start, but I'll need your help." She confided. Then it had begun; they had followed a trail of fruitless leads. Even powerful men had little information on the insurgents and where their secrets lie buried. While she had used lust, Sherlock had used deduction, but it seemed as though they were always one step behind and their time was running out. The longer John remained MIA, they more likely it was that they would find him dead, or not at all. Though Irene would never say it to his face, Sherlock was off his game and it was slowing them down. It seemed as though he was right. Love was a serious disadvantage. But they were close now, oh so close. Irene's was pulled from her thoughts by the man's shout as his body stiffened preparing to climax.
Now was the time to press him. He wasn't thinking of anything besides getting to completion and he would speak without thinking. Irene gripped his erection tightly, effectively halting his orgasm momentarily. "The POW camps, where are they?" She demanded.
"There are many." He ground out between harsh breaths. Not good enough. They hadn't come this far for more evasive answers.
"British Soldiers. I need to know where the British Soldier's were taken." She insisted as the man writhed beneath her.
"I don't know. They are spread out." The man replied. Bloody hell. She had not come this far only to hit another dead end. She pressed on.
"SAS." She prompted as her other hand moved towards his throat. The man's eyes widened as he began to realize that Irene was not what she first appeared to be and that perhaps he was in over his head. "Where are the SAS troops?" She insisted. He shook his head and insisted.
"Don't know." Irene hissed in frustration. It was had all been another waste of time.
"Pity," she murmured as she pulled the 1cc syringe from between her cleavage and jammed it into the man's jugular. He stiffened and them slumped and quickly lost consciousness allowing her to make an escape. Just as Irene was finished dressing her phone chimed with a text. I have a lead. Meet me in Samara-SH
Irene hummed thoughtfully. Hopefully, this lead would prove to be more substantial than the one that she had been chasing. She quickly departed to meet Sherlock.