The Good, The Bad and The Woman

Epilogue

21. Epilogue - The Beginning of the End

Sherlock searched the woman's eyes for everything he needed, and everything he feared he would not receive. He knew that this time searching her soul would not be enough. She would not lower her defenses for him unless he gave her something in return. He could but offer her the one thing he had left to give her: Vulnerability. At length, he implored, "Help me."

Irene nodded slowly and he felt relief wash over him as he saw her walls visibly crumble at her feet. "I'm not playing anymore. I can't. Too much is at stake… for us both. I meant what I said, you're in more danger than I am at the moment."

"Does this mean we're on the same side again?"

"For once," the shorter woman shrugged. Mischief flashed through her vibrant eyes as her smirk widened and she stepped into the man's personal space.

Sherlock hesitated as he felt her body heat and soft, creamy skin press against his. His hands hung in limbo for another second before he wrapped his arms around her slender back. He held her close as she tucked her head beneath his chin. The show of sentiment was uncharacteristic for them both, yet this time it did not feel distant or strange. Instead his mind filled with gratitude to have her in his arms after everything they had been through. That she still cared for him despite the storm around them. The fact that she allowed that sentiment to take physical form meant something to him that he could not put into words. He exhaled and let his thoughts scatter as he reveled in the simple truth instead.

Sherlock didn't want to disrupt the moment that was already frail as glass, but knew that time was not on their side in this wicked game. He pulled back far enough to meet her gaze and cleared his mind. He needed to rein everything in except his brilliant machinery. "You know what he's planning next."

She tilted her head to the side. Her long locks spilled over his hands that still rested against her lower back. The windows to her souls were clear like a cloudless sky and piercing in its perceptiveness. "As do you."

The man nodded as he steered them onward, "The evidence is in the systematic approach. As you said: Norton favours brute strength over brainpower. It makes him relatively easy to read. He hides very little behind a veneer, and elects to hold the entirety of his reprisal on a superficial level."

Irene's voice dropped an octave as she tried to steer him towards the heart of her own concern. "You know he's tried to kill you twice already. Once by running you over, and once with an assassin at Baker Street."

Sherlock stepped back from her embrace and waved off the insinuation. He put some space between them as he sighed, "Yes, yes, I am Norton's next target... I won't underestimate his next move, if that's what you're implying."

A faint smile echoed across her angled features as she crossed her arms over her chest and sat back down on the bed. She seemed at once both relaxed and stiff as a board as she waited on the scale of justice. "You don't like being the pawn, do you?"

"Did you with Moriarty?" he countered with a snort.

"Not the slightest."

Sherlock turned his back to her as he exhaled slowly. He didn't want her to believe he was having doubts. There was but one option ahead, and he had neither regret nor remorse about it. In truth, there was no real decision to make. The man glanced over his shoulder at the woman and hoped his voice conveyed the sincerity of his pledge, "I'll the play the part, Irene. I'll do what necessity requires of me."