Word Count: 2,485ish
Summary: Sherlock and Y/N try to save a life. Irene is clearly still helping the Professor, but for how much longer?
Notes: I personally love A Game of Shadows, so I'm so excited to get it started in this story!
~~~
Over the next nine months, the partnership that grew between Y/N and Sherlock was beautiful to watch. Though their love for each other grew, they never admitted it to one another or act on it besides short kisses and the gentlest of touches. They balanced each other and pushed each other. It was also very clear that they would do anything to protect the other one.
They took very few cases that didn't have to do with Moriarty. They needed to piece together his plan, for themselves. For each other. Both of them some how knew that they would never be able to actually be together with Moriarty out causing havoc in the world. And with Y/N's knowledge of the man, Sherlock began to piece together exactly how much havoc Moriarty had a hand in.
The year was now 1891. Storm clouds were brewing over Europe. France and Germany were at each other's throats... the result of a series of bombings. Some said it was Nationalists... others, the anarchists. But as usual, Y/N and Sherlock had a different theory entirely.
The pair were blending in with the surroundings as the watched Irene make her way through the crowd with a package under her arm. Sherlock was pretending to be a homeless man, while Y/N was dressed up as a woman with higher status. She eyed Sherlock as he stuffed a bag full of beans and rice, and grabbed a loaf of bread. He nodded to her and she knew it was time. Sherlock took one side and Y/N took the other. He whistled, causing Irene to turn around in a circle, looking for who did that. Sherlock snuck around Irene and slipped the bread through her arm as Y/N grabbed the package. Sherlock slipped his arm through Irene's as she notices him and the loaf of bread. Y/N walked with them on the other side of Irene.
"When did you start working for the postal service?" Sherlock asked.
"That was you back there," Irene commented. "Share your activities have landed you in the gutter." She glanced at the woman on her left. "Y/N."
"Irene," Y/N greeted.
"A curious parcel," Sherlock stated. "Who's the intended recipient?"
"Why don't we discuss that over dinner tonight?" Irene wondered.
"We're free for lunch."
"Hmm. I'm not. How about the Savory, 8:00?"
"Splendid."
"Hmm. And will you both be coming as yourselves?"
"Most likely."
"Depends on how the rest of the day goes," Y/N responded.
Sherlock pulled Irene behind a carriage. "Three men have been following you for the last half mile," he whispered. "Their motives... highly unsavory."
Irene looked over her shoulder, spotting one of the men. "No," she whispered.
Irene led the pair away from the bustling streets to an alley way. A man appeared in front of them, causing them to halt. Irene gasped, turning to face Sherlock.
"Oh, and, by the way, they're not pursuing me, they're escorting me," she said. Three men walked up behind them. "And instead of three, there seems to be, uh, four." Irene took the package from Y/N.
"Steady hands with that, Irene," Y/N scowled.
"Oh, I don't think it's my hands you have to worry about." Irene patted Sherlock's cheek. "Be careful with the face, boys. We do have a dinner date tonight." She passed him the loaf of bread. "Don't fill up on bread."
Then she walked away. The man in front of them stepped closer and began whistling Mozart's Eine Kleine Nachtmusik. The man stopped after a few measures and Sherlock picked it up. He turned around to face the other three and Y/N kept her eyes on the other man. The three man also joined in with Sherlock's whistling as they helped him take off his disguise.
"I told you we should have just knocked her out," Y/N muttered.
Sherlock rolled his eyes and he finished whistling. "I forgot the rest," he told them. He grabbed Y/N's hand. "Come on, dear."
He turned around and the man grabbed hold of his neck. Sherlock let go of Y/N's hand as he was throw up against the wall. Two of the other men grabbed onto Y/N's wrists.
"Oh, it's coming back now," Sherlock commented.
He kneed the man in the groin before throwing rice at another man. Y/N pulled one of her arms free and threw her elbow back into one of their faces. All four of the men were now going after both of them. Y/N's hand quickly found a clasp along her waist and freed her shirt, revealing pants. She used the shirt to blind one of the men as she attacked the other with her freed legs.
"Peelers!" One of the men shouted.
The six of them immediately tried to act as normal as possible as two police officers feared into the alley way. Y/N hid behind crates as Sherlock crotched down and pretended to mediate. He eyed each of the men, studying their weapons and moves. Once the police were gone, Sherlock moved swiftly. He attacked the first man, who got out a large pair of scissors. He forced that man to stab his friend before taking the third man out. The final man grabbed Y/N and held a gun to her head.
"Do you want me to..."
"No, Sherlock," Y/N responded. "I've got it."
She threw her head back, hitting the attackers head before swiftly grabbing the gun. She moved to stand in front of the man, next to Sherlock, gun pointed at the attacker. Y/N smirked as she opened the gun and released the bullets to the ground. The man was slightly scared as she handed him back the gun.
"Very well done, darling," Sherlock said, he took her hand and began to pull her away. "We must go though."
"You took three of them out, only letting me have my fun with one of them," she complained.
"Well, I will remember to let you have your fun first for the next time."
The two hurried to the auction, where Irene's target was. The target was opening up the box, Irene sitting next to him, when Sherlock and Y/N entered. Sherlock grabbed an auction number as they hurried towards them.
"Have you ever met him in person?" The man asked Irene as he pulled open the box cover. "Or like me, have you been—"
Sherlock slipped the auction number between the lever and the box before the bomb could go off. "Hold it, hold it," he advised. "Please, don't move it. Judging from its size and weight, it's no the payment you were expecting. I'd wager the contents are rather more incendiary."
"Who is this?"
Irene struggled to answer. "It's—"
"Hello darling," Sherlock smiled.
He wrapped an arm around her shoulders before kissing her cheek. Y/N's jaw clenched. Sherlock pulled the letter from Irene's hand and turned it over to Y/N. She quickly hid it in her shirt. The man who was holding the package removed a piece of paper that lined the box, triggering the gears inside of it.
"He told you not to move it," Y/N scolded. "Now a secondary charge has been activated."
Irene tried to stand up, but Sherlock gripped her shoulder, keeping her seated.
"Sweet thing," the nickname for Irene that rolled of Sherlock's tongue almost had Y/N sick. "I might need your help in the disposal of this parcel."
Sherlock gave Y/N a knowing look and slipped her his pipe. Y/N nodded and lit the pipe. She placed it to the side of her, on the edge of a hanging tapestry.
"One thousand six hundred," the auctioneer shouted. "One thousand seven hundred! One thousand eight hundred! One thousand—"
"Well, good luck," Irene said, trying to stand up again.
Sherlock stood up, keeping Irene in her chair. "One million pounds," he announced. All those in attendance turned around and gasped. The tapestry then caught on fire. "Oh, and by the way, fire."
"Fire!" A man shouted, causing everyone to rush up and leave. Irene pushed herself out of Sherlock's grasp to leave.
"Leave our side, you'll be dead within an hour," Sherlock told the man.
"And don't be late for dinner," Irene said. "I expect my schedule will be quite tight because of these activities here."
"I've never been late in my life, only early."
"Fashionably."
Irene pulled him in for a kiss. Y/N bit her lip, disliking both the closeness the two were sharing and the jealousy that she was feeling. Irene began to feel around for the letter. Y/N cleared her throat as she pulled it out and caught the woman's attention.
"Looking for something?" Y/N taunted. "I'll be holding onto it." She slipped it back into her shirt. "We'll read it together over an aperitif."
"Alright," Irene said, not very happy. "Dinner and a show."
As Sherlock busied himself with grabbing the package and impressing the man. Irene pulled Y/N aside.
"Why haven't you run yet?" She muttered.
"Why haven't you brought me in?" Y/N retorted.
"You of all people know how much he enjoys his games. I thought I'd return the favor."
"Me running would give into his games. Me staying put with Sherlock, catches him off guard."
"You really haven't played his games in too long, have you? You being with Sherlock is just want he wants."
"I need to end this. Sherlock is the only way."
"Have you told him your feelings for him yet? Or are you holding off until this is all over?" Y/N didn't respond. "This will be over when one of them dies."
"Tell me, Irene. What does he have on you know that would make you did do his dirty work?"
Irene straightened up. "I hope to see you at dinner tonight." She turned and left.
Y/N sighed before she looked back at where the man was supposed to be. He had clearly slipped out while Sherlock and herself had been distracted. Sherlock had placed the box into a sarcophagus and was pushing it into the vault.
"I'm a consulting detective of some repute," Sherlock stated, clearly having not noticed the man was gone. "Perhaps you've hard of me? My name is Sherlock Hol—" The bomb exploded in the sarcophagus. "Holmes." Sherlock came out and looked around. "Where did he go?"
"He slipped out while you were handling the bomb and I was handling Irene," Y/N replied as Sherlock hurried her way.
"You were handling her, hmm? Get any information?"
"Besides the fact that I think you're still the reason he can get her to do his dirty work? No."
"Oh, my darling, are you jealous?"
"I'm not answering that." She headed for the door. "We need to—"
Sherlock grabbed her arm and pulled her into him, kissing her passionately on the lips. It was the most passionate kiss the two had ever shared. Y/N wished for it to continue as Sherlock pulled back slightly.
"Did that help?" Sherlock teased, his breath fanning over her lips.
She pushed him away, not up for his games today. "Come on, we need to go after him."
With a hold of Y/N's hand, Sherlock led her out to the streets in search of the man they were trying to protect. They went through a crowd and Y/N could feel eyes on them. Sherlock apparently could as well because they both glanced over their shoulders at the same time. There stood a well suited man, staring back at them. Y/N inhaled sharply as she squeezed Sherlock's hand. Sherlock continued them forward, quickly stopping when he found the man they were searching for. He was slumped over needed to a corner of the building. The duo glanced back, but the man who was staring at them had disappeared.
Sherlock stepped over to study the seemingly dead man at the corner of the building. He fingers when under the man's chin to check for a pulse. Sherlock shook his head slightly at the confirmation that the man was dead. Y/N's eyes raked down the body, noticeably stopping at the dart in the man's leg. Her hand's trembled as she took the dart out.
"It was him," she whispered.
"Of course it was Moriarty," Sherlock responded. "But—"
"No, Sherlock, it was him. That man in the crowd. I could feel his eyes on me because they were familiar. He's Colonel Sebastian Moran. Moriarty's right hand man. Moran's the one who's been after me for him."
"Then we must get you out of here." Sherlock held firmly to Y/N's hand. "Come along."
~~~
Irene arrived at one of her favorite spots for tea. The tables were close together, but separated by small curtains. She was led to her usual table to see that tea and treats were already there.
"A fresh pot of tea," she requested. "Thank you, George."
"Yes, Miss Adler," George, the server, responded before leaving to fulfill the request.
"Fine choice, this place," a man from the next spot over commented. His face was hidden by the curtain. But his hands were out in the open, one of them having a pencil in it, writing on the paper on his table. "Do you have the letter?"
"It was taken," Irene answered.
"Taken? Now, that is unfortunate."
"During the chaos created by your package." George arrived with fresh tea. "Thank you." She picked her cup up to take a sip. "Perhaps, if you had shared your plans."
"You wish to know my plans now, do you? Did you imagine, Miss Adler, that something would happen to you? Is that why you chose to meet here, in a public place? Your favorite restaurant?"
The man put down his pencil, a signal to his right hand not too far away. The right hand man clicked his glass three times and everyone quickly left the room, causing Irene to be confused. The man, revealing to be Moriarty, moved the curtain over.
"I don't blame you," he stated. "I blame myself. It's my fault that my daughter is the way she is. It's also been apparent to me for some time that you had succumbed to your feeling for him. And this isn't the first occasion Mr. Holmes, and my daughter, has inconvenienced me in recent months. The question is... what to do about it? But, that's my problem to solve now. I no longer require your services."
Moriarty turned back to his table. Irene stood up and began to head out. Not feeling well, she started to use the tables for supports until she completely gave out onto the floor. Moriarty listened to her groan as he thought about his next steps to remove his daughter and Holmes from the equation.