A Scandal in Belgravia [Reader Insert]

Chemical Defects

     Irene carefully entered in the four digits that served as the passcode for her entire life, looking up at Sherlock with a hint of a smile as she did so. After a few seconds, nothing seemed to have happened.

     "It's not working," Irene finally announced, perhaps a bit too calmly.

     "Yes, that's because it's a duplicate I had made," Sherlock revealed, taking the phone back from Irene, "into which you've just entered the numbers one zero five eight." He reached behind his chair and pulled out the real phone, to John's ill-conceived amazement. (Of course, Sherlock saw John's expression and was proud. He glanced at you, but you were looking at Irene, so he narrowed his eyes and turned back to the phone. "I assumed it'd be something more specific, but thanks anyway." He turned it on and you knew now that he was seeing the code screen that read I am _ _ _ _ locked. He entered the four numbers, and...

     The phone blared a warning buzz. Sherlock's expectant expression faltered to one of surprise. He looked to Irene, who stood beside him, for answers.

     Irene smirked and looked right back up at Sherlock with a smug expression. "I told you that camera phone was my life," she reminded him. "I know when it's in my hands."

     "Oh, you're rather good," Sherlock murmured.

     You and John stared at each other in shock. Had Sherlock just complimented Irene? Not even you had ever been praised by Sherlock Holmes- not that you wanted to be. Not that you were jealous.

     "You're not so bad," Irene whispered back, leaning up and closer to Sherlock. The two stared at each other intently and the sexual tension in the air was so thick that you felt as if if someone were to reach out, they could physically cut right through it.

     "Hamish!" John blurted. Everyone turned to stare at him in confusion.

     "John Hamish Watson. Just... if you were looing for baby names."

    That made you laugh. Sherlock shot a glare to you and John in turn- and meanwhile, Irene pulled away.

     "There was a man, an MOD official, and I knew what he liked," Irene began, pacing the room with her real phone in hand. She must have snatched it from Sherlock while they were undressing each other with their eyes. "One of the things he liked was showing off." She stopped and raised the pone with the screen facing you and Sherlock (John moved so he could quell his curiosity and see the screen as well).

    "He told me this email could save the world. He didn't know it, but I photographed it."

     Sherlock reached out to take the phone, but at the same moment, you jumped to your feet and snatched it first. Your interest had been piqued.

    "He was a bit tied up at the time," Irene recalled while you observed the phone. Sherlock turned away with a huff and sat down at the table like a child waiting for his turn with a toy. "Bit small. Can you read it?"
     "Yes," you answered shortly. You frowned at the phone, which read:

     007 Confirmed Allocation

4C12C45F13E13G60A60B61F34G34J60D12H3

    Not code, you thought. Seating arrangements. On a commercial plane, 474 leaving Heathrow for Baltimore. Easy enough to figure out, but something was putting you off. 007. What was so important about 007? You couldn't remember, but the nagging in the back of your head told you that it was important.

     You looked up at Irene. Could you trust her?

     No.

     "It's nothing," you lied, handing the phone back.