Loving a Holmes

The Woman

Sherlock and I had gone out for lunch after he took care of some business at Bart's Hospital, trying to see if he can get into Adler's phone. Once we step into the hall of the second floor of the flat Sherlock and I both smell something new and a little odd. I think I recognize the smell, but can't place it. Sherlock glances over at me, "did you change your perfume?"

"Darling, if I did you'd notice it well before now."

Sherlock nods as the two of us try to pinpoint the source of the smell. Noticing the window in the kitchen is open a bit, as we are both drawn to the back of the flat by the smell. I hear John come up the stairs as we slowly make our way to the back of the flat. Sherlock puts a hand up me as we approach the bedroom before he slowly enters the room. As he glances over to the bed I see his expression soften a bit, it is at this moment I realize how I know that smell. Irene Adler. I roll my eyes as Sherlock calls to John, "we have a case."

John makes his way down the hallway and past me, as I head to other direction, wanting to stay as far away from her as possible, "what, in your bedroom? Oh..."

It isn't long after the boys discover Ms. Adler in Sherlock's room before the three of them make their way back to the sitting area where I have found a spot on the couch and grabbed a book to try to keep my mind busy. I glance up to Sherlock, I'm sure even he can see the anger in my eyes, but he shakes his head, looking back at me with tender eyes as if to indicate that nothing had happened. But then I guess it would be impossible since I had spent the previous night with Sherlock and other than the few hours he was at Bart's we'd been together all day.

The three of them also settle into the main room, Irene in Sherlock's chair, John in front of his laptop at the table to her left, and Sherlock sat almost right in front of me. I can only imagine it is so that Irene can't see the daggers I occasionally throw her way, in glances or so that he can stop me if I go after her for making some tactless comment. Sherlock breaks the heavy silence in the room, "so who is after you?"

Irene sighs, "people who want to kill me."

I whisper to myself, "that's a very long list."

Sherlock glances over his shoulder to me, before looking back to Irene, "who are they?"

"Killers," Irene grins as she turns to Sherlock.

"It would help if you were a tiny bit more specific," John glances over to Irene.

Sherlock sighs, "so you faked your own death to get ahead of them?"

"It worked for a while," Irene shrugs.

"Except you let John know you're alive, therefore me."

"I knew you'd keep my secret."

"You couldn't"

"But you did, didn't you? Even from your little toy."

I scoff, "no, I knew. I just didn't care."

Irene smirks around Sherlock to me, before glancing around the room, "where's my camera-phone?"

"It's not here. We're not stupid," John sits his coffee cup down.

"Then what have you done with it If they've guessed you've got it, they'll be watching you."

"Then they'll know I took a safety deposit box at a bank on the Strand a few months ago," Sherlock shrugs.

"I need it."

John glances between the two of them, "well, we can't just go and get it, can we? Molly Hooper, she could collect it, take it to Barts. Then one of your homeless network could bring it here, leave it in the cafe, one of the boys downstairs could bring it up the back."