I Am Sher-locked

1. Sher-locked

You know where to find me
SH

Irene Adler received a text message and her lips curled up in a smile. After all this time he had finally texted her back. She looked at the text message but decided not to reply. Of course, she knew exactly where to find him but this time was different. Sherlock had to find her first. 

The apartment she lived in was nothing special but it was enough for her. So much money had passed through her hands but nothing was worth it compared to her own life. She was alive and owed it exclusively to Sherlock. The same night she escaped beheading, Sherlock handed her a ticket to France and some money. It would be enough to spend at least a month. 

Fortunately for her, life in Paris was not that difficult. Doing what she knew best, within a few months she had secured an apartment and a job that made her happy. A small cabaret had hired her as a burlesque dancer. That was enough for Irene.

Many men flirted with her but her own heart could not fit anyone other than Sherlock. Her bed was rarely empty as sex was the only way for her to forget him but that did not help either. All the protective walls that she had built  were destroyed with a single text message from him. You know where to find me. Oh, Sherlock. 

It was four in the morning and she was wandering around the apartment listening to music. She could not sleep that night. The cabaret was renovated and closed for at least a week, so Irene had plenty of energy to spend.

The black negligee she wore gently caressed her skin, her hair was loose on her shoulders. She picked up her cell phone and dialed Sherlock's number without a second thought. After three beeps he accepted the call but did not speak.

A smirk spread on her lips as she leaned against the window, looking outside. She could hear his breathing. 

"Sherlock...", she said in a raspy whisper. 

"You are listening to Charles Aznavour", he coughed gently to clear his throat. 

She let out a breathy chuckle. Her heart skipped a beat when she heard his voice. "Parce que tu crois. My favorite."

"France did you good", he said, trying to sound stif and cold but on the contrary. He sounded awkward and impatient. 

"Come visit me", she closed her eyes and let out a soft sigh. Her voice sounded husky and deep. 

A small pause. He was actually considering it and that was a good sign. "England needs me", he finally spoke. 

"Paris needs you more", she smiled, softly nibling her bottom lip. 

"Stop biting your lip", Sherlock breathed out and she imagined him closing his eyes. 

"Make me...", she whispered softly, her smirk grew wider. 

"Don't play this game with me."

"Oh, mr. Holmes, you would enjoy it", she murmured and opened her eyes. "Come...", she repeated. 

"You come", he said and Irene could detect a smile in his voice. He was definitely smiling. "You're not in danger anymore."

"Thanks to you", she breathed. "Some people say that Paris is wonderful during Christmas time."

"Dreamers", responded Sherlock. "You're not a dreamer."

"What am I, mr. Holmes?"

Long pause. She couldn't even hear him breathing. "You are you."

"Is this a good thing?", she faintly smiled.

"Stop fishing for compliments, you don't need them."

She chuckled softly. "You're right. I don't. Can I video call you?"