The Woman Who Counted (A Sherlolly Tale)

Chapter 39

            “Please, do sit down.” One porcelain arm extended towards the seat next to her.

            Molly sat, one leg crossing over the other as she folded her hands in her lap. She sat as far from her as she could.

            “Don’t you want to get a little closer? I don’t bite … hard. Well, not enough to cause bleeding.”

            Molly ignored her and said; “You realize that this isn’t your flat, right?”

            Blood red lips curled up into a smile, exposing perfectly white teeth. “Nor is it yours.”

            Molly kept her eyes on the Woman. “It’s more mine than yours.”

            “Technically,” Irene Adler said, “it isn’t even Sherlock’s flat.”

            Molly furrowed her brows. “No?”

            “No,” Irene seemed to have a never-ending smile, never fading in the slightest. “It’s Mrs Hudson’s.”

            Molly said nothing; just picked up her mug and sipped from it.

            “If you want to get even more technical, Mycroft owns it even more than Sherlock does,” Irene said. “He pays a majority of the rent.”

            Molly sighed, “What are you doing here, Irene?”

            Irene fake pouted, the first time that her smile had faded since she arrived at Baker Street. “Am I not welcome for friendly conversation and a nice cuppa?” Her smile reappeared, smaller, but more amused. She let out one of those laughs that is over just as it starts.

            “If you won’t tell me, Sherlock will get it out of you. He should be home soon.”

            “Well, then,” Irene said, raising her mug to her lips again, “I’ll just have to wait until he gets home.” She took a sip, and then lowered the mug. “I do hate repeating myself. In the meantime, why not converse, you and I?”

            Molly put down the cup and saucer. “I don’t even know you.”

            “You did my autopsy.”

            “That wasn’t even you,” Molly said. “That was just a dummy.”

            “A dummy with my exact features and measurements.” A smirk. “You must know a few things about me from that.”

            “More than I’d like to know.”

            “Get to know me, then,” Irene smiled. “I’ve nothing to hide – well, not much, anyways.”

            “Why?” Molly asked.

            “Because we may be seeing more and more of each other. We might as well be friendly.”

            “How often?”

            “Often.” Irene crossed her legs and leaned back against the sofa, her posture only slightly faulting.

            “Sherlock doesn’t even like you,” Molly said. “He won’t even call you by your name, just ‘Woman’.”

            Irene did one of those short laughs again. “Funny, my clients call me Woman.”