An Affair with the Enemy (A Sherlock Fanfic)

Chapter 8

Tanya

It was a quiet night yesterday once we had all come back from the dinner that never happened. I was in Sherlock's bed and felt the sunlight penetrating through my eyelids. Forcing my eyes open, I sauntered through to the living room to find Sherlock covered in a bedsheet and talking to someone on the laptop. Behind him on an armchair was a large man sitting quietly who offered me a shy smile. I was used to seeing random people in this flat all the time that I stopped asking about it after a while.

"... no point in my leaving the flat for anything less than a seven. We agreed. Now, go back. Show me the grass." I peered over Sherlock's shoulder and saw John turn his webcam from the grass back to his face. He gave a friendly smile as he saw me on his screen.

"Good morning Tanya. Sleep well?"

"Yeah thanks. What are you doing over there anyway?"

"Shut up! No time for chit chat. Go closer to the grass." John rolled his eyes before zooming into the grass. "Closer." Holding back a smile, I went into the kitchen to make myself some coffee. As soon as I turned the switch on, the doorbell rang out. Ignoring it, I continued to get myself a mug. It rang out again. Sighing, I made my way towards the door before Mrs Hudson swung it open followed by two men in suits.

"Who the hell are you?" I demanded but got ignored. One of the men pushed past me into Sherlock's room.

~~~

Sherlock, John and I had arrived at the address that Mycroft had sent Sherlock.

"So, what's the plan?" John asked Sherlock.

"We know her address."

"What, just ring her doorbell?" I asked, evidently surprised.

"Exactly."

I smiled remembering today's turn of events. The two men took Sherlock and I to Buckingham Palace where Mycroft spoke to us about a woman named Irene Adler and how she had rather compromising images that could potentially deface a man of high status. Sherlock guaranteed that he would have the pictures by the end of the day but I was unsure. It couldn't be so easy to get images from a dominatrix. But after all, this was Sherlock. I was shocked that he had wanted me to come with him as he never took me to his cases but I didn't complain.

Stepping out of the cab, Sherlock turned to face John. "Punch me in the face."

"Punch you in the face?" John asked in utter disbelief.

"Yes, punch me in the face." John stared at him for a moment. "Didn't you hear me?" Sherlock rolled his eyes before swiftly grabbing me and putting a Swiss knife against my throat. My eyes widened in shock and I struggled for a moment but couldn't escape his iron grip. "Punch me in the face or I slice her throat." He was bluffing. Of course he was. As if John had read my mind, he repeated the same words. Sherlock, obviously aggravated at this point, began to make a small cut on my skin. I yelped and struggled again before I was released. I caught my breath and turned around to find John punching Sherlock violently. "Okay, I think we're done now, John."

~~~

Sherlock marched up to the door, bruises covering his face, his lip bleeding and rang the doorbell. A woman answered from the other side.

"Hello? Hi um...myself and my wife just got attacked by someone out here and do you think we could come in please?" Wife? At that point I realised the only possible person to be his wife here was me. I bit back my laughter and listened to their conversation. John, Sherlock and I finally got in and we all took in the beauty we were surrounded by. The high white ceilings and the rich carpets. Everything was just so...breathtaking. The lady led us to the living room and I took a seat on the sofa besides Sherlock and turned my head to face him.

"You didn't need to cut me you know." I lightly pressed a finger to my neck wincing slightly.

"I felt that the moment needed something a little more...dramatic. A damsel in distress is always perfect if you want to get..." He trailed off as his jaw dropped open. I followed his gaze and saw what he was looking at. A lady with blood red lipstick stood, leaning against the doorframe smiling. Only problem was that she was stark naked apart from a pair of black stilettos. I wasn't sure if I should have been amazed by this woman's confidence or jealous that she stood in front of my Sherlock like that. He wasn't exactly my Sherlock but he was still close to me.

"Oh, it's always hard to remember an alias when you've had a fright, isn't it?" She strutted up to Sherlock and straddled his legs and knelt before him. One of my eyes twitched awkwardly unaware of what to make of the situation. I zoned out as I watched this terrifyingly intimidating woman pull out Sherlock's collar and keep it between her teeth. Before things got any more awkward, John walked in, his eyes trained on the bowl of water he was holding. I let out a breath of relief. He looked up and looked from Irene to Sherlock and then to me.

"I've missed something haven't I?" I rolled my eyes as if this was the biggest understatement of the century.

After almost twenty minutes chat, Sherlock had worked out that the photographs were in the room and almost on cue, John left the room. Her bluey-green eyes pierced into mine.

"So you're Mr Holmes' new girlfriend are you?" She turned to talk to Sherlock as though I wasn't in the room. "I would've thought your taste to be a little more...mature. Sophisticated. Older. Prettier." She smirked and that's when I decided I had enough. I walked out of the room to find John in the hallway holding a rolled up newspaper on fire.