~Sherlock's Roommate~ (Sherlock x Male!Oc) //On Hold\\

Chapter 26 ~ Irene

"I had some at the Palace." Sherlock says.

"I know." Irene says then sits down in a nearby armchair and crosses her legs, folding her arms gracefully to obscure the view of her chest. They stare silently at each other for several seconds, weighing each other up. John looks at them awkwardly. Easton's eyes glued to the floor. 

"I had a tea, too, at the Palace, if anyone's interested." John says. Sherlock's eyes are still fixed on Irene as he attempts to make as many deductions as he can about her. His final analysis is as follows... He couldn't read her at all... She's like Easton. Bewildered, he turns and looks at John and starts to analyze him. Looking at his neckline: Two Day Shirt, electric not blade on his face. Looking at the bottom of his jeans and his shoes: Date tonight. John frowns as Sherlock continues to gaze at him.

Sherlock looks at Easton, nothing... But he only read that Easton was being respectful by not looking at the naked woman sitting in the chair. Sherlock slowly turns his head and looks at Irene again. Narrowing his eyes slightly, he applies all his deductive reasoning as she smiles confidently back at him, and he quickly comes to the following conclusion: ??? He frowns. 

"Do you know the big problem with a disguise, Mr. Holmes?" She says. "However hard you try, it's always a self-portrait." 

"You think I'm a vicar with a bleeding face?" 

"No, I think you're damaged, delusional and believe in a higher power. In your case, it's yourself. Oh, and somebody loves you. Why, if I had to punch that face, I'd avoid your nose and teeth too." She glances across to John momentarily. John forces a laugh. 

"Could you put something on, please? Er, anything at all." 

"Why? Are you feeling exposed?" Irene looks at Easton, "You can look Mr. Parker." She says, smirking.

"I rather not.." Easton says. Irene chuckles.

"They were right, you are very respectful towards peoples 'privacy'. I like that in a man."

Sherlock stood up, "I don't think John knows where to look." He picks up his coat, shakes it out and holds it out to Irene. Ignoring him for the moment, she stands up and walks closer to John, who rolls his head on his neck uncomfortably and forces himself to maintain eye contact with her and not to let his eyes wander lower.

"No, I think he knows exactly where." Irene says, she turns to Sherlock who is still holding out the coat while steadfastly keeping his gaze averted. Irene takes the coat from him, "I'm not sure about you."

"If I wanted to look at naked women I'd borrow John's laptop." 

"You do borrow my laptop." 

"I confiscate it." Sherlock says, he walks over to the fireplace opposite the sofa. Irene puts the coat on and wrapping it around her.

"Well, never mind. We've got better things to talk about. Now tell me... I need to know." She walks over to the sofa and sits down. "How was it done?"

"What?" Sherlock asks. 

Irene takes off her heels, "The hiker with the bashed-in head. How was he killed?" The boys look confused. John noticed Easton was still looking at the ground, John nudges him.

"You can look, she's wearing Sherlock's coat." Easton slowly looks up, but was relief to her covered up. He then sits down on the chair next to him.

"That's not why I'm here." Sherlock says. 

"No, no, no, you're here for the photographs but that's never gonna happen, and since we're here just chatting anyway..." Irene says then John steps in.

"That story's not been on the news yet. How do you know about it?"

"I know one of the policemen. Well, I know what he likes." 

John sits down beside her, "And you like policemen?" Easton asks. 

"I like detective stories.. And detectives. Brainy's the new sexy, you too Italian boy." Irene looks at the red head, looking at his messy curls. 

"The position of the car.." Sherlock says, everyone looks at him, "... Relative to the hiker at the time of the backfire. That and the fact that the death blow was to the back of the head. That's all you need to know."

"Okay, tell me: how was he murdered?"

"He wasn't." 

"You don't think it was murder?" 

"I know it wasn't." 

"How?"

"The same way that I know the victim was an excellent sportsman recently returned from foreign travel and that the photographs I'm looking for are in this room." 

"Okay, but how?"

"So they are in this room. Thank you. John, Easton, man the door. Let no-one in." The three of them exchange a significant look, then John gets up, Easton as well and Easton puts the bowl and napkin on a table before leaving the room and closing the door behind them. In the hallway John looks around, then picks up a magazine from a nearby table and rolls it up. 

Easton sits on a chair fiddling with the pocket knife that was printed in the pants pocket. Irene was right, Easton was respectful towards people privacy.