Morstan and Adler

Two: Irene

IRENE

Irene wasn't expecting much from the detective. He did give her a lot more than her anticipations, and he was so brainy. And sexy. But that was the same thing in Irene's terms. But he was so easy to beat. She'd especially enjoyed drugging him. Watching him convulse on the floor, that pretty face whipped and ruined. Ah, fun.

It was a good plan. Irene found it funny to watch this man, who obviously wasn't used to having - well, emotions - fall in love with her. Perhaps not in love with her, but she loved breaking down his shields, his walls, getting closer to his heart, watching him try harder to keep his sociopathic barrier in place. She liked giving him some sentiment, perhaps even making him lustful. It was amusing. Jim approved of her plan, too.

But the fun and games were over now. It was nearing Christmas. She was going to die, and very soon. People were coming for her. She couldn't let them have her phone. Her phone..... She would send it to Sherlock. Even if he was on the side of the angels, she knew he'd keep it safe and to himself only. He wouldn't even give it to Mycroft. Not even the Ice Man. Much safer than giving it to Moriarty. The selfish man would probably use it for his advantage.

She put her phone in a blood red box, to match her lipstick, and tied it with green string.

Suddenly there was a knock at the door. Irene opened it to see Mary there. She'd become quite good friends with the assassin, despite their difficult start.

"Hi," said the assailant on the door, and stepped into the house. She walked into the living room, Irene following her. "Happy Christmas," Mary smiled, sitting on the sofa.

Irene remained standing. "Oh, god, Mary...."

"What's this?" Mary asked, picking up the red package with her phone inside. She seemed to realise what was going on. "Oh. Oh no."

"I might die soon," Irene sighed heavily.

"I won't let that happen, Irene. Don't worry. I can help you fake a corpse, whatever, even drop off the phone," promised Mary.

Irene smiled at her friend. "Really? You'd do that?"

"Sure, of course."

They did. First, they stopped off at Baker Street, where Irene left her phone, before faking the records (Irene knew what the record keeper liked) and a corpse. It was easy, really. Irene couldn't help but wonder how Sherlock would react. She stifled a laugh. Would he be sad to see her dead, when she'd love to have his head mounted on her wall?

"I know a place you can stay for a bit. I've often used it myself while hiding," Mary offered. They were now back at Irene's place. She was packing a suitcase, planning to move out.

"Yes, thank you," Irene smiled. "I've informed Kate. I know my attackers will be searching for me now. I'm sure the news that I'm dead will put them off. But if we run into them, I'm sure you can handle them?"

Mary nodded. "For a small fee, yes."

"Of course."

Irene was dead. Killed. Her phone left with Sherlock for a final goodbye. Dead. Mycroft found the body later that night. Mary watched on in the shadows as they took it away. The Ice Man looked grim. Probably wondering what his little brother would make of this.