A torturous year later
Time is crucial. It defines the future in a way that does not change. You can not go back in time. You can not undo an act, it is by nature impossible. Irene understood what it meant to be alone in a crowd. Away from Sherlock she was a living dead. That day, about a year ago, Sherlock left the hospital room where she was being treated after the attack, and never contacted her again. Irene was discharged from the hospital about two weeks later and then returned to Paris. She did not return to Sherlock's house to get her things. She would not allow herself to endanger him. Dominic was capable of anything.
Her heart was now completely broken. Inside she wished she was dead because a life without Sherlock was a real torture. Just as she was stepping out of the hospital, she received a text message on her cell phone. Dominic made his appearance again. He wrote that her decision to push Sherlock away from her was not enough. She had to leave him completely, so she took the next plane and departed to Paris.
Dominic, of course, followed her to Paris, making her life more difficult. She had to live under Dominic's orders. You must be wondering why Irene bowed her head and accepted Dominic's orders without protest. The bastard had thoroughly organized his revenge. The term was simple. If she did not obey everything he told her, he would kill Sherlock, John, Rosie and Mrs. Hudson. He proved to her with photos and live videos that the entire building on Baker Street was surrounded by explosives. Snipers were constantly monitoring the targets on Dominic's orders.
The horror and anxiety under which she lived daily was a torture. With each denial came a threat to Sherlock's life. So she set aside her own life and was left in that nightmare. Sherlock's life had more value.
She had lost her job at the cabaret, now she only worked for Dominic. Depending on his mood, Irene changed roles. Sometimes she was his secretary, other times she was his personal slut. Most of the time, however, she was his emotional punching bag. He forced her to stand in front of him while he insulted her, hit her and disgraced her. With each of her reactions, he threatened that Sherlock's death was a phone call away. And indeed it was.
Once, Dominic ordered her to go naked in front of his friends and she refused. That same night, a group of Dominic's people shot at the building on Baker Street. Fortunately, no one was injured. The very next moment Irene took off her clothes and appeared naked in front of Dominic's friends.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Monday, 03:21 a.m.
Her body was frozen as the water from the shower fell on her. She was sitting on the shower tiles, blood was running from a wound on her arm, her face was pale. A few hours ago Dominic had asked her to dance sensually for him. She refused. He hit her hard. She was relieved. He had not vented his anger on Sherlock. It was better for her to be in pain and not Sherlock.
Her apartment was in the same building as Dominic's apartment. Fortunately for her, Dominic had agreed for her to live in her own space. No, he didn't do it out of kindness. He just didn't want Irene constantly around him. This worked in her favor.
Monday, 07:01 a.m.
Irene checked her appearance in the large mirror before she left the apartment. Today was Monday and on Mondays Irene was ordered to dress in a black, tight suit, white shirt and red heels. She always met Dominic before he had his breakfast. The reason was never obvious to her.
The wound on her arm was still hurting but she ignored it as she left the apartment and locked the door. She took the elevator and went upstairs. The sound of her heels echoed in the hall. Before she knocked on the door, someone opened it. Irene took a step back but immediately relaxed when Liam appeared on the doorstep. He was Dominic's nephew who, as Irene suspected, was secretly fancied her.
The 30-year-old man grinned when he noticed Irene. "You're so lucky. He's not here."
"Where is he?", Irene was relieved but showed nothing as such.
"He said he had a very important meeting", Liam responded. "He will not return until late tomorrow night."
Irene fought the urge to roll her eyes. "Alright", she sighed. "I better leave then."
"I'm alone", he said. "Why don't you come inside? I have coffee", he smiled expectantly.
Irene stared at him for a brief moment, then she softly shook her head. "I don't think this is a good idea, Liam."
"Let's go outside then", Liam suggested but when Irene didn't respond he shrugged casually. "It's just coffee, Irene."
"Whatever, alright", she agreed unwillingly.
Monday, 08:19 a.m.
The cafe they went to was crowded and not at all quiet. They were sitting at a small table outside the cafe, right in front of the sidewalk. They did not say a word. Irene was absorbed in observing passers-by. The sun made their faces brighter, their smiles were warm, her own world frozen to its core. No sun could illuminate her own vast darkness.
"Irene...", Liam spoke, pulling her gently out of her thoughts.
She shifted her empty gaze to him. "Yes?"
Liam breathed out through his nose, looking at her inquisitively. "I don't understand."
A small, weak smile spread on her lips. Of course he didn't understand. Liam knew nothing about the type of the relationship she and Dominic shared. "What is it that you don't understand, Liam?", she decided to take a sip for her coffee.
"You seem unhappy, constantly", he said, passing his fingers through his mid-length, blonde hair. His clear, blue eyes never leaving hers. "Why don't you quit the job? I know that my uncle is an asshole."
"It's not that simple, Liam", she let out a short sigh. "But I don't want to talk about Dominic. Let's talk about something else instead."
"Anything you want", he agreed. "Do you like the coffee here?"
She let out a throaty chuckle. "Small talk is not my thing."
"Are you a lesbian?", Liam blurted out the question.
"Straight to the one-million-dollar question", Irene smiled while looking at him. "Why are you interested?"
"Just curious", he shrugged uncomfortably. His blue eyes were innocent.
"Curiosity is the lust of mind, darling", she tilted her head, observing him. "I was. I am. It doesn't matter."
"What do you mean, you were? Are you now?", he seemed genuinely lost.
"I am a lesbian who fell in love with a man", she forced an icy smile.
"I like you."
Suddenly Liam seemed so confident and relaxed, like he was a different person. Irene stared at him for a little while, her smile was long gone.
"I am the most toxic woman you'll ever meet in your life", she said.
"What if I don't care?", he tilted his head, tufts of his blonde hair waved due to the light breeze.
"You should", she breathed deeply. "Look at you...", a small smile crept across her face. "You are pleasant. Gorgeous. Funny. Don't fall in love with me. Don't do this to your life. You deserve so much better."
"Too late...", he almost murmured as he looked at her.
"No. Don't", she abruptly stood up. "I'm sorry, I need to leave..."
He was ready to stand up but Irene was already walking away at a brisk pace.
Monday, 10:54 p.m.
"A Gilroy, please", Irene ordered her coctail to the bartender when she settled on the bar stool. She was alone and she enjoyed it. Away from Dominic she felt she could finally breathe freely. It was very important to her. Dominic's oppression was intense and Irene's resilience waned as time went on.
"Enjoy", the bartender said with a smile as he placed the coctail in front of her.
"Thank you", Irene took a large sip from the drink and let out a deep sigh.
She looked around, the bar was not very crowded. It was still too early. The music was soft, maybe even romantic one might say. A red-haired woman was sitting two seats away from Irene, alone. Two couples, a group of students, two men in suits and an intellectual man with glasses and a cigarette in his hand. With the second sip of her drink she drank two thirds of the cocktail, so with a gesture of her hand the bartender already started preparing her second drink.
"Boy problems?", the redhead spoke, somewhat loudly, the same time that Irene finished her first drink and moved to the second.
"No", Irene shook her head. "Heavy drinker."
"Wait, I can't hear you", the redhead grabbed her drink and moved to the seat on Irene's left. "Hi!", she grinned and extended her hand towards Irene. "My name's Vicky. Yours?"
Irene took her hand and shook it politely. "Cate", she threw the first name that landed in her mind.
"So, you're not French", the woman grinned.
"Look, I don't mean to sound rude but I need to be on my own", Irene looked at her coldly. "So, if you don't mind...", she trailed off.
"Sure", the redhead wasn't smiling anymore. "I'm sorry", she stood up, took her drink and returned to her previous seat.
Irene downed her second drink and was about to gesture to the bartender but the woman with the name Vicky occupied him. They exchanged a few words and then the bartender started preparing a drink. Irene noticed that the drink was for her because when he finished he walked to her and placed the glass before her.
"This is from Vicky", he offered a polite smile. "And that too", he said and left a piece of paper next to the glass.
Her number? Irene fought the urge to roll her eyes and took the paper in her hand.
Dominic sends his regards, Irene Adler
Irene slowly looked up from the paper and stared at Vicky who ostentatiously ignored her. Honestly, she was not shocked. She should have seen this coming. Dominic was everywhere even when his presence was not visible. Irene was sick of that now. She could no longer live the life she wanted. Immediately she felt she was drowning. She needed to breathe fresh air, soon.
With quick movements she got up, paid for her drinks and left the bar without even glancing at the redhead. The sweet, breeze of Paris embraced her as she began to walk. No, she would not take a taxi back. She preferred to walk the whole distance. It would do her good.
Suddenly her phone buzzed. It was a text message, probably from Dominic. She let out a deep sigh as she stopped walking. God, she had enough already. One year. One fucking year had passed. How much longer would she have the tolerance to continue living as a prisoner?
"Remember...", she mumbled to herself. "You're doing this for Sherlock..."
She took her cell phone and read the text message.
You haven't changed a bit
SH
Her heart started beating way too fast for her own good. There was a picture attached to the message. Quickly she downloaded the picture. It was... Oh, God...
Sherlock was here. He was here.