Three years later ...
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Married life is not as easy as it seems. A normal couple has to deal with problems such as a broken tap or weekly groceries or a broken backyard fence or even problems such as finances or choosing children's clothes or choosing the right school for the children. As you can imagine, all of this never came as a problem for Sherlock and Irene. They obviously were never a normal couple. Their quarrels were epic, every time. Jars were breaking on the walls and their voices could be heard throughout the neighborhood. The reason for their disagreements was always ridiculous. Either Sherlock had forgotten to inform her that he would be away from home for days due to work, or Irene would have organized a party without even informing him, or they would have just been upset for irrelevant reasons.
But they had set some ground rules and that worked in their favor. They had agreed that no matter what happened between them, no matter how much they argued, they would sleep in the same bed at night. So every night the disagreements disappeared and Sherlock hugged Irene.
Life on Baker Street was hectic and fast-paced, especially when the apartment was filled with people calling for the help of Sherlock, Britain's most popular detective. A few months after their marriage, Irene decided to work too because she hated sitting around all day doing nothing productive. Irene was the best burlesque dancer England could have, so she opened her own burlesque dance studio and she thrived. She had many students and girls and boys from around London came to take burlesque classes from her. She even had celebrities as her students.
Their life was interesting and they never got bored during these three years of marriage. Their sex life had evolved and Irene no longer held back her dominant impulses. One would expect Sherlock to never accept this dominant side of Irene, but they would be wrong. In her way Irene managed to gain the trust of Sherlock and she took the reins in her hands. The pleasure they both gained from Irene's domination was explosive.
However, Irene never got pregnant by Sherlock even under these circumstances. Her gynecologist described this condition as bad luck and nothing more. They were both very healthy and still very young. The child would come at some point.
Rosie Watson, meanwhile, had become a beautiful little four-year-old girl who loved spending time with her godfather, Sherlock, and Irene, whom Rosie considered a godmother. Sometimes, when Sherlock and John worked together on a case, Rosie would spend her time in Irene's dance studio and everyone there loved her. The girl had her mother's eyes and her father's smile. She was a lovable girl.
But it would be better to return to more recent events ...
***************
John's house
Irene was on the couch and Rosie had straddled her, trying to apply lipstick on the woman's lips. Irene was trying hard not to laugh while carefully holding the girl from the waist as to not let her fall backwards. Sherlock was sitting beside them, reading a file about a case and conversing with John. It was Monday and Irene had only afternoon classes on Mondays. It was still noon.
She pursed her lips funnily and Rosie giggled loudly, smudging Irene with lipstick around her lips. "Noooooo, don't move!!!", the girl laughed.
"I bet I look like a clown", Irene laughed as well, throwing her head back to avoid Rosie's lipstick attack.
"You look pretty!!", the girl protested and painted a red line across Irene's cheek. Rosie snorted, laughing harder than before.
"Leave me in peace, you little monster!", Irene raised the kid from the waist and softly let her step on the floor, still laughing.
Rosie ran to her room, giggling.
"Gosh, this kid is so energetic", Irene sighed with a warm smile and turned to the men. "How do I look?", she made a silly face.
John chuckled. "Like Sherlock's doodles."
"I was thinking the exact same thing", Sherlock smiled then turned to John. "What about the sister? We need to question the sister as well."
And.... back to the case. Irene stood up, went to the bathroom and washed the lipstick off her face. When she returned to the living room her mobile was ringing. She glanced at them but they were so focused on their conversation. She grabbed her mobile and looked at the screen. Unknown number. She accepted the call and went out into the garden to speak without disturbing the detectives.
"Hello?"
"Oh, hello Mrs. Holmes", a pleasant-voiced female spoke. Her tone was rich. "I hope I'm not disturbing you."
"No, please, go ahead", Irene responded with interest.
"My name is Naomi Fox and I'm interested in the dance lessons you deliver", she explained nicely.
"How old are you, Naomi?"
"I am twenty-nine years old", she replied and Irene detected a smile in her melodic voice.
Irene frowned. "Forgive me for my bluntness but aren't you a bit old? I mean, have you attended dance classes in the past?"
"Oh, yes, of course!", the woman let out a velvety laughter. "I was a ballet dancer but I stopped dancing around the age of twenty-one. I had an accident..."
"May I ask what happened?"
"I would rather talk to you and show you up close what happened. Can I meet you tonight at the studio?"
"You most certainly can", Irene responded. "How about nine o'clock? My last lesson for today ends at that time."
"Excellent", Naomi said. "Thank you for your time, Mrs. Holmes."
"Thank you", Irene responded with a small smile. "See you tonight."
She ended the call and walked back in the house again.
"Who where you talking to?", Sherlock raised his gaze from the papers.
"A possible new student", Irene shut the glass door and joined him on the couch. John and Rosie were not there. "I'm starving. What time is it?"
"It's...ehm...", he checked at his watch. "....two o'clock."
"I have one hour before my first class", she sighed and snuggled up to Sherlock who immediately snaked one arm around her. "I swear if you don't put the papers away I'm gonna hit you."
"Feisty", Sherlock joked, placing the papers aside and pulling Irene against his chest.
She deeply inhaled his familiar scent and shut her eyes. "What's for lunch?"
"I don't know but I bet John had cooked something very delicious for you."
"He's such a good boy", Irene smiled. "I feel so tired...."
"You put so much effort last night, that's why you're tired...", Sherlock whispered near her ear.
She chuckled, opening her eyes and looking up at him. "You enjoyed it, didn't you?"
"I think it was pretty obvious that I did", he smirked and stole a quick kiss from her lips. "My dominatrix...", he murmured against her lips and kissed her again. Then he pulled back.
She raised her hand and traced his cheekbone with her fingers. "You're so handsome when you smile."
"And you're so sweet when you're tired", he laughed lightly.
"I am...", she closed her eyes again with a deep exhale. "Tired. Not sweet", she clarified.
"Lunch's ready!", John shouted from the kitchen.
"Your cue to run", Sherlock chuckled and she hit his arm playfully.
Irene pulled away from Sherlock and walked to the dining room. He followed her and they had a beautiful time all together. Rosie was refusing to eat her vegetables but Irene managed to persuade her and everything went well.
When they were done Irene gathered her stuff and grabbed the car keys. She had bought a beautiful, white Audi two years ago.
"I'll see you tonight", she said to Sherlock who walked her out.
"What time will you be back home?"
"I'm not sure", she unlocked the car and threw her stuff inside. She turned to him. "That new student I told you about will come and meet me tonight after my classes."
"Male or female?", Sherlock softly stroked her upper arm.
"Alien", she responded with a short chuckle.
"Interesting", Sherlock arched an eyebrow.
"It's a female", Irene smiled softly. "Go and solve a case for me, Mr. Holmes", she opened the car door and entered.
"Have a nice one, baby", Sherlock winked at her and walked back to the house. Irene drove away, smiling.
**************
Irene was exhausted after six hours of heavy dancing. The last of her students were changing clothes while she removed her high heels (a very important part of the burlesque outfit) and her stockings and sat on the wooden dance floor wearing only her sleeveless black leotard and her corset. She wiped her face with a clean towel and sipped some water from her bottle.
"Irene, today's lesson was amazing!!", Gina, the nineteen-year-old gem of her class, beamed excitedly as she walked up to the exit along with Fred and Alicia.
"The key is practice, Gina", Irene looked at her, stretching her legs. "Stop drooling over Johnny Depp's posters and dance more!"
Gina laughed out loud as she opened the exit door. "But he's so gorgeous!"
Irene laughed. "I know but he's not the key to your success!"
"I know", Gina pouted like a little puppy, then waved at her. "Good night! See you tomorrow!"
"Good night guys!", she smiled at them. Then she stood up and undid her corset. She turned around and looked herself in the large, wall mirrors. Her cheeks were red from the dancing.
"Hi..."
Irene heard a very familiar, pleasant voice and she instantly realized it was Naomi, the girl who called her earlier today. She turned around and spotted an attractive young female with cherry red hair standing by the door. Oh, wow. She was a piece or art. She smiled at her with those fleshy lips and Irene couldn't help but smile back.
"You must be Naomi Fox", said Irene a moment later.
"I am", Naomi nodded, still smiling. "It's very nice to finally meet you, Mrs. Holmes", she added, walking up at her like a feline.
Irene observed her discreetly. Tall, curvy but slim, an hourglass type of body, bright blue eyes, long and wavy cherry red hair and captivating smile.
"Call me Irene", she said, shaking her hand politely. "You wanted to speak to me in person."
"Yeah...", Naomi smiled awkwardly. "If it's possible, I would like to take some private burlesque lessons from you."
"Why private?", Irene frowned, not minding that she was practically half-naked before a stranger. She had never been awkward regarding her body. "Are you a celebrity of some sort?"
"No, I wish", Naomi chuckled. "May I undress? You'll understand..."
Irene arched both her eyebrows but nodded. "Whatever, okay...", she sighed.
Naomi removed her biker jacket and her boots, then she slipped out of her leggings and Irene noticed instantly the problem. Her left thigh was covered in terrible scars. Irene gasped and lowered her body to examine them.
"Boiling oil...", Naomi answered Irene's silent question. "I don't feel comfortable around people but I adore dancing..."
"You just showed me your scars", Irene straightened her body and looked at her quizzically. "You felt comfortable enough to do this in front of me, why not do this in front of others?"
"You are the teacher and you're just one person", Naomi shrugged and put her leggings back on. She got fully dressed and looked at Irene with those big, blue, pleading eyes. "Please, teach me..."
"How can I refuse when you look at me like that?", Irene smiled.
"Oh my God, thank you!!", Naomi squealed with delight.
"Let's fill the form then", Irene chuckled and walked to a door which led to her office. Naomi followed her. Once in the office Irene pulled a paper out of the drawer and settled behind her desk. "Full name?"
"Naomi Claire Fox."
"Age?"
"Twenty-nine."
"Occupation?"
"I work as an art editor for a fashion magazine."
"Interesting", Irene smiled, writing down the details. "Marital status?"
"Oh, I'm single, unmarried and apparently always will be", Naomi chuckled nervously.
"Don't say that", Irene said while writing. "You just haven't find the right man yet."
"Ew, no, I'm not looking for a guy", Naomi shivered involuntarily. "I'm gay."
Irene snapped her head up to meet Naomi's gaze. Oh, Lord, no, don't test me...
~~~~~~~~~~~
A/N
Please do not rush to conclusions! Not everything is as it seems. The image above is as I imagine Naomi's appearance. You can ignore it if you imagine her differently!