"Anything?" John asks. "Excuse me?" Sherlock replies. John sighs, "You can tell someones whole life story by one look. You know what I am asking about." And Sherlock did. Irene had not texted back since last night. Sherlock had started to worry if it was something he said or if the text was too harsh. "Why are you so interested in Her and me?" Sherlock ignored. "Did she reply Sherlock?" John angered to Sherlock's ignorance, yelled. "Pipe down, we've just solved a case now." John still looked at him. Sherlock pulled out his phone and John, violently, grabbed it out of his hands. Sherlock tried to regain his possessions but in doing so, he smacked John across the face. By this time, they arrived at the police department. "Why are you such an annoying dick?" John yelled. "Because I'm a high functioning sociopath."
Walking in was strange. Everyone was quiet. They stopped typing on their keyboards. There was no chatter. Not even a phone rang. Greg sat in his office, waiting. Sherlock walked in while John stayed outside searching through Sherlock's phone. About 20 minutes later John gave Sherlock's phone back to him and they walked outside. Not a word from anyone in the office. Just total silence. John haled a cab, sat down, and before Sherlock got in, he slammed the door. "Is it possible you can get another cab?" John asked through the open window, and the cab drove off. Sherlock walked a couple of blocks before getting a cab, thinking about what Greg told him.
Thinking is the most horrific thing you can think of. Humans think without knowing. Having to know that your thinking is an unwanted gift. Having to know everyone else is thinking, is hell. Arriving at 221B Baker Street isn't always wonderful. Instead of heading straight for his flat, he went to Speedy's for dinner. And he kept on thinking.
If Irene was back, where would she go?
No one knows I saved her other than John, what would Mycroft do?
He knows he's going to have to come clean with his brother. His arch enemy. Mycroft probably already has the whole government looking for her. And then the ringtone goes off. The women's moan makes cafe goes silent for a moment, and then back to its normal state. He's quick to pull out his phone. "Dinner?" Before even ordering his macaroni salad, he dashes to his apartment door and quickly runs up the stairs. "John?" He hollered, running up the stairs. "Yeah?" the doctor replies. "Irene's here!" Sherlock exclaims. "Irene Adler is here! In London. I don't why, but she is!"
---
About two days later, they had still not found her. Although she and Sherlock played a little game of hot and cold whenever she felt like it. If Sherlock was in her view, she would text warm. The closer he got she would send hot but she would run before he caught up. Irene enjoyed this although Sherlock did not. It angered him knowing that she wanted to be found. He just wasn't fast enough. John had moved into the bedroom upstairs again after Mary died. Often, Sherlock would hear Rosie's soft crying and John's small whines. Until one night, Sherlock heard a noise from his bedroom. At first, he thought it was just the neighborhood cat, scratching at the window. But Sherlock noticed a flaw. Normally, a cat would scratch until it was bored. He had only heard the noise once. "John?" He called at his best friend's door. "Wait a moment."
About half an hour gone by and Sherlock was still waiting. He barged in to see a father, asleep, with his darling baby girl on his chest, Crying. Sherlock picked the baby up to give the father a break but the moment he did, John sprang from his bed. "Wha-What? Where is Rosie?" John practically screamed. The reaction of the child was just priceless, more crying.
Once the baby was asleep again, it was about 6 P.M. and Sherlock had forgotten about the noise. He work on his expirements in the kitchen while John just slept in his chair and watched telly. Snoring very, very, loudly. Sherlock decided to wake him up being the arrogent man he was. John still was angered by Sherlock, refused. So, Sherlock decided to take a walk. As he was putting on his scarf, his ringtone went off once more. The women's sensual moan reminded him to
take
off
his
Pajamas
He checked his phone. Nothing important. He bolted up the stairs and into his room. The four walled square was freezing with paper scattered on his shelves. All of the being of Irene's files and pictures. The windows were open in the middle of a snowshower. Little piles of snow on Sherlocks ledges made him mad. Why would Irene leave every clue out? This was her. Wasn't it? Not being able to read Irene was a big disadvantage to Sherlock. She was so concelled. Even when she lost to Moriarty's game. The one un-noticable thing on his bed, was a whip, and a note saying. "Outside." with a lipstick kiss imprinted on the corner. Sherlock quickly changed and left his flat of 221B Baker Street.
YOU ARE READING
Temptations
Fanfiction"Nothing but a temptation." Sherlock insists. But deep inside he knows, that it's more than just a temptation. It's love. This story is about love, loss, and a new beginning for Sherlock Holmes and Irene Adler. This is part one to my Sherlock fanfi...
