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21. The Untold Story

Irene gazed out at the waters below, listening to the sound of the waves crashing against the docks around her. The soothing noise helped to calm her mind from the wild storm that raged within. She closed her eyes and let the memories of the past few days wash over her.

---

"…Why did you do it?"

Irene smiled sadly. "I didn't."

With those simple words, she turned on her heel and, too, exited the cellar as she withdrew her phone from her pocket and dialed a familiar number. She held the phone close to her ear and waited for the person on the other end to reply.

"It's me," she said at last when the person did. "We need to talk."

---

Irene walked into the cold, grey area on swift feet.

She had left the basement just a short while ago, and the falsified images still haunted her memory vividly. After the events, she had hurried to Baker Street and tried to explain her deductions to the genius, but Sherlock had simply shut the door on her and her explanations. He had with that simple move knocked the world, as she had known it, irrevocably off-course.

She had expected Moriarty's next move to include her, but had not expected to be used as a pawn to destroy the detective. It had been the first time she had misjudged the reaches of Moriarty's cruelty, for she hadn't expected he would use her as both the arrow and the target.

The cold, dark shadow she had seen on Sherlock's face as he had watched the video had sent sharp pains through her heart. He had obviously jumped to the conclusion that the video was real and there was little now that would sway his mind.

That was part of the reason she had made that call. She had lost him now, in fact she had lost everything because of the whimsical games of a mad man. Now, there was only one way for her to get out of it alive, and she needed the help of one she had rather hoped to avoid. Now that her world was slipping through her fingers, this was nonetheless necessary. Everything was falling apart, and she had to save the one thing she could. Even if it meant taking drastic measures.

As she stepped further into the enclosed space, she saw his figure under the pale lights up ahead. The tall man was clad in a suit as usual and he was leaning casually against his umbrella. There was an arrogant smile on his thin lips, as if he was already filled with an air of victory, even before the fight. Irene was inclined to agree this arrogance was well-placed.

"I must admit, after our last discussion, I thought you'd never call…" Mycroft said as Irene stopped a few steps before him. "Yet here you are. Begs the question – Why? Why are you here, Ms Adler?"

Irene sighed and steeled herself for what she new would be another uphill battle. "I'm here… to help your brother."

The elder Holmes boy shifted his weight from one foot to the other as he glared across the empty space at the woman."You must be truly desperate, Ms Adler, if you come to me."

"I'm probably dead already," she agreed and met the man's gaze without fear or remorse. If she refused to play the game, perhaps Mycroft would take her seriously. This time, she needed the man to listen.

Something flashed in Mycroft's pale eyes that told her he understood her silent plea. The smirk was wiped from his face and replaced by a small, unsure frown. "Why come here and risk everything for my brother?"

Irene shrugged as innocently as only she could, "I don't intend to go without raising a little hell first… I'm here to make a deal."

Time passed painfully slow as Mycroft's disbelieving eyes searched hers for the answers she weren't giving. "He threw you out…"

"...Yes."

"I'm not helping you get him back, Ms Adler."

"I'm not asking you to," Irene commented through gritted teeth.

"Ms Alder, I-"

Irene interrupted him sternly, "Will you just listen to me? It's my turn to talk."

Mycroft inhaled slowly and nodded once. Irene closed her eyes briefly and continued, "Things are set in motion, Mr Holmes. It will happen so fast… You asked me to come to you when Moriarty returned for his final game… well, he's back. And he is deadly. I need your help to protect Sherlock."

The smug, victorious smirk returned to Mycroft's thin lips. "Ah!… Role reversal. How, may I ask, do you plan for us to protect my baby brother? He doesn't much believe he needs protection…"

Irene's voice was cold and dark as she spoke, "Sherlock has to kill Moriarty. You'll help him do that."

Mycroft paused a beat and Irene saw the intrigue shine stronger and stronger in his pale eyes. He didn't fully understand what she was getting at, but was still interested enough to hear her out. "A risky project, don't you agree? We all know how slippery Moriarty can be."

"He won't be this time."

Once more, Mycroft gazed at her through hesitant disbelief. "You sound sure. sure."

"Trust me, Mr Holmes," Irene smiled joylessly. "Moriarty won't leave anything to chance this time. He wouldn't have come back if he hadn't planned a final act against Sherlock. This is truly the endgame. Moriarty will finish this whether he wins or not."

"You've spoken with him then?"

Irene shook her head. "Not yet. Soon. He knows I'll be in touch… He did-… It doesn't matter what he did, but he has it all figured out from here. The only thing I figure he hasn't counted on, is this…"

Mycroft nodded slowly. "Maybe you're right. Sherlock's definitely never come to me in the past. It's not something Moriarty would expect."

"Moriarty knows I hate you more than I hate him. Sherlock knows it, too. Neither of them will expect me to come to you for help… and they never will. You must understand this is the only way… if Sherlock is to remain alive. "

"And if I help… what will I get in return?"

Irene looked down and paused. She knew she held Mycroft's interest in the palm of her hand, and might persuade him to help her. But, of course, everything came with a prize. To Irene, she could only give him the last remains of the life she had not already been robbed of. "I'll leave your brother and England. For good."

The man's eyes widened in surprise and he beheld her for a couple of long seconds. It seemed he was trying to figure out the sincerity of her offer. "…My brother would follow."

"Not if you kill me."

The shock on Mycroft's face tenfolded upon hearing her cryptic suggestion. "…And how do you propose I do that?"

"First, you need to fool Sherlock Holmes," Irene explained.

Mycroft huffed. "Don't be ridicculous. No one can fool my brother."

"I can," Irene said confidently and tried to convey the truth with her gaze.

Mycroft's eyes were wide and filled with shock. It seemed to this, he had no clever comeback or comment. He was dumbstruck by her words.

"You know I can. That was, after all, part of the reason you came asking for my help last time," Irene pushed on. "You were right. I can sneak into Sherlock's mind palace and out again without being detected. I am your only chance, and though you hate it, you have no choice but to listen to my deal."

Mycroft sighed and there was defeat in his posture. "Very well. Go on."

"I believe I can read them both. I've learned much from watching Sherlock and Moriarty. I've learned how they work. I know Moriarty plans to kidnap me somewhere. To get to Sherlock. Now, if Sherlock doesn't follow, you'll have lost nothing… But if he does follow-"

"-you'll lose everything." Mycroft finished for her. "Tell me… Sherlock's thrown you out. What makes you think he'll follow you? What makes you think he still cares?"

Irene pushed the last memory with Sherlock from her head and tried to hide the pain she felt. Perhaps Mycroft's insinuation was correct. Perhaps she had lost the detective's heart already. It certainly had felt like it when he had forced the suitcase into her hand and looked down at her with dead eyes.

"Call it instinct," Irene shrugged her eyebrows and smirked up at the elder Holmes boy. "Moriarty has the upper hand right now. He will lock Sherlock in the darkest recesses of his mind. Sherlock needs to be pulled out from that place so that he can focus and beat Moriarty."

"And how do you plan on doing that?"

"Leave that to me," Irene said mysteriously. "I need you to aid Sherlock with everything you've got. He'll most likely need back up. Use your connections, give him help, tap into his phone. I can tell you that Moriarty is nostalgic this time around. He'll bring the final game to one of two familiar venues. A swimming hall or a basement. I'll text the adresses for both to you. Keep ready. Make sure Lestrade can provide Sherlock with guns, ammunition and whatever protection he might ask for. But let Sherlock believe that's his idea."

"Then what?"

"When you learn which position Moriarty will choose, block his escape routes. I'm sure I don't have to ask you to do it stealthily. If Sherlock learns you've contributed, all will be threatened… If all goes according to plan, Sherlock will beat Moriarty mostly on his own... But we just can't take that risk."

Mycroft paused to contemplate something and turned his watchful gaze back to the woman."…I'm curious about one aspect of your plan. How do you intend to fake your death?"

"That's where I truly need your help," Irene whispered. "I think I can figure out what Moriarty means to do to me and use my abilities to survive… If I make it, Sherlock will be tricked into phoning an ambulance, believing I'm dead."

"… And you want my people to take the call?"

"Yes," Irene nodded. "And I want you to send an ambulance, with your people dressed as medics. Wheel me out and… I'll be gone from his life. Forever."

Mycroft exhaled deeply and asked, "…Why are you doing this?"

"It doesn't matter," Irene grinned coldly, hoping it would throw Mycroft off. "I told you, I'm already dead."

"I'm going to need more than that, Ms Adler…"

Irene sighed as she recognised the stiff grin on Mycroft's face. Last time, she had pushed him for more answers, and he was merely returning the unkind gesture now. She had expected to meet tough resistance, yet had hoped she wouldn't have to wear her heart on her sleeve infront of him. "He doesn't believe he's capable of love. I don't think he can describe what he feels now, so he hides behind what he knows. Behind his intelligence. But one way or the other… he cares. That's why I think he'll follow, and try to save me."

"…But?"

"But… you were right," Irene admitted with a grimace. For some reason, it hurt to admit. It didn't only hurt her pride to say it to Mycroft, but it made her heart feel bruised and beaten as well. "Sherlock might be capable of love, but his mind isn't. He can't have such an attachment to anyone. He can't put the key to the greatness of his mind in someone else's hands. Least of all me. He can't lean on me… Sherlock can't lean on anybody. That's why it can't work. That's why I should disappear once more. This time, without him knowing the truth."

"And you're hoping he'll care enough to mourn you, and not see the signs that you're alive?"

"It's not hope, I know he won't," Irene shook her head. "I know I can fool him. But I'll need help to do it…Moriarty has to die. I know you see it the same way I do… If Sherlock doesn't kill him, Moriarty will haunt Sherlock forever. That's why we have to make Sherlock see it like we do. If I die… it might be enough to push him over the edge."

"I see…" Mycroft nodded. "This deal of yours... it's really about your heart, isn't it? Everything you've told me here tonight… Your sacrifice… You're willing to do all this because you love him."

Irene neither confirmed nor denied his deduction but cleared her throat in discomfort. She had let her mask slip enough for this meeting and now glared up at him from behind her protective walls. "If it runs as I believe it will; Sherlock will kill Moriarty, and I'll be gone, too. Is that a deal you're willing to make, or not?"

Irene stepped closer and stretched out her hand towards the man. If Mycroft agreed, half the race would be won.

There was barely a beat, before Mycroft reached forward as well and shook her hand, sealing their deal.

---

It had now been almost an hour since the events in the basement, when Irene found her steps returning there. She had made a second call after having left Mycroft in the parking house. Though she had found the meeting with the elder Holmes brother difficult, she had a feeling this would be harder still for her heart.

As she opened the door once more, she heard the scraping sound of a pair of shoes against the ground and gazed over as John stood up to meet her. The anger and betrayal in his eyes was subdued, but it was evident the trust was gone. His wide, pale eyes watched her now as she moved further in the room.

"Why did you want to meet, Irene?" John asked hurriedly. It was obviously a question he had asked himself over and over in his head. It seemed he was searching for the reason he had chosen to wait for her at all. In his hand rested the disc with the repulsive recording on it.

"I need your help, John," Irene explained silently and there was a hint of desperation in her dark voice. "More than you know."

John huffed sarcastically, "Why would I help you? After everything you've done…"

Irene nodded down at the disc in the blond man's hand. "You know that's fake."

"Do I?... Do I?"

Irene felt his disbelief in the air and the feeling of hurt intensified in her heart. "I would never do that to Sherlock… I would never…"

John shook his head and turned away from the woman ahead. It seemed he couldn't face her after everything that had happened. "You betrayed him, Irene… I always knew that you could never give up your life of misbehavior… but betrayal? I thought you cared for him."

"John, I told you – I didn't do it!" Irene practically begged.

"I'm not sure about anything right now! This…," John waved the disc in his hand and looked down at it with a sigh. "… I just don't know. It's possible…"

"What?" Irene asked and couldn't hide the hopefulness in her voice.

John sighed and turned back to face her. "Two years ago, Moriarty had an ace up his sleeve. He fabricated evidence to make it seem as if he was the innocent one, and that Sherlock had hired him to play a part. All to make the world believe Sherlock was a mad killer… This video… It just feels the same way it did then, it's almost too insane to be true… But I don't know."

"Ask me again."

John's gaze held the woman's, his own mind seemed to already have registered her request. Her command was simple, but John knew the truth wouldn't be. He understood what she wished from him now, and conceded with her request. "… Do you love him?"

Irene's truthful eyes gazed at John for a long second to make sure she had his undivided attention, before she replied, "… Yes."

John inhaled deeply and tried to process everything that had happened and was sure to come. It was all too much for his simple mind. He knew he had an important decision to make. Either to trust the woman that stood before him now, or turn his back on her and believe she was only the deceiving woman he had first met.

"Sod it…" John muttered to himself. He had to give her another chance. If she was simply the deceitful dominatrix, she would never have admitted her love for Sherlock. "Alright! Alright… Say I believe you… why do you need my help?"

"Convince Sherlock it's a lie," Irene nodded in encouragement. "You're the only one who can make him see past his hurt."

"I'll try…" John promised with a tight grin. "But I can't guarantee anything. I could take this to Lestrade and his people, see if they can prove it false. I was going to anyway. But…"

"I know, John," Irene smiled back. "I know you'll do your best… But there's one more thing... Moriarty will expect me to go see him after what he did… He won't let me leave, but I have to go. He'll make me do something… unforgettable, I'm afraid. And then he'll try to kill me. I need you to help me live, but also to make Sherlock believe I'm dead."

John blinked over at her," W-…What? What are you on about?"

"I have to disappear, John… But I don't want Sherlock to hate me. I don't think I coul-…" Irene paused and eventually let out a sigh. "It's just better he thinks I'm dead."

"What?" John opened and closed his mouth in disbelief. "You don't have to… If this disc is fake, and Sherlock believes that… You don't have to disappear."

"Moriarty's game is coming, John," Irene smiled sadly. "It's not something we can run from. He'll try and kill us. You know that. It's important Sherlock doesn't die…"

"You're just afraid…" John shook his head. "It's just fear talking, Irene. Sherlock will kill Moriarty, and we can go back to normal."

Irene shook her head in reply but felt the hesitation tickle her mind. Though John's blind faith in his friend was one of a kind, Irene couldn't be swept away by it. "No… Nothing can go back to normal, John. I wish you could see it from my perspective… This has gone on for too long. If I do survive, it's better I disappear. For his sake."

"I… really don't understand what you're telling me."

"Look," Irene wet her lips and moved on to her plan instead of getting stuck on the mysteries John wanted to learn of her heart. "Moriarty will take me somewhere and lure Sherlock there to save me. Moriarty once hinted that only ice could kill me. I think I know what he has in store for me, and I could survive it. But afterwards, I need to play dead… And if worse comes to worse, I need you to revive me and help me play dead. I need your help to fool Sherlock."

"I… I can't do that to him. I-...No," John shook his head fervently.

"John… what is Sherlock's thoughts on love? Hmm? He believes love is the most dangerous of disadvantages… It's better to end this now, before someone is truly hurt."

"But someone will be hurt!" John argued back with a frown. "You've already passed that point of no return, Irene!"

"Sherlock Holmes can't let himself love," Irene argued back. "He's not the type of man who falls in love or who is fit for a relationship. The same goes for me. Us… it was just a dream, a fantasy… A lie. If I do this, if I succeed with my plan, he can have a fresh start. So could I."

"...I think you're wrong."

"Am I though? Sherlock is a brilliant man, but you saw his reaction to Moriarty's latest ploy…"

"He was angry-"

"Precisely! That was his heart, we saw, and not his head. If I stay, I fear he'll lose some of that brilliance that makes him shine so bright. Sherlock doesn't only care for his head, but he is his mind palace… If I were to take that away from him, he wouldn't be Sherlock Holmes anymore. He'd never forgive me for that."

"I don't...-"

"You are a great friend, John. To Sherlock. …To me. Please, help me do this. Help me cut loose from him, and we can all start anew when this is over," Irene's voice broke several times as she spoke and the sentiment to her voice was genuine. It broke John's heart as well. "Things can go back to the way they're supposed to be."

"If we win…" John sighed and inhaled deeply in an attempt to clear his mind. "Let's… pretend I agree to help. What exactly can I do?"

"Keep Sherlock away from me during Moriarty's final game. Make sure he doesn't feel my pulse… until after you give me this."

Irene held out her hand towards John and he gazed down at the small syringe in her hand.

"It's a far stronger drug than the one I've used to sedate Sherlock. Inject this into my arm when Sherlock's not watching. It will slow my pulse down to almost unrecognizable… It's urgent that he feels my pulse right after you give me this, when the effects are strongest. Then you make him call for an ambulance before the drug wears off. It will be over quickly, so you have to plan it carefully. I have to be wheeled out of there before my pulse returns. Mycroft has agreed to help with that."

"Mycroft?" John frowned as a whole new version of the truth revealed itself before him. "You made a deal with Mycroft? That's the actual reason why you're leaving, isn't it?"

"I already told you why I'm leaving. It has to end here… Please. I'm not doing this to hurt him. It's just… It would never work for us. This way… "

John sighed and slumped his shoulders in defeat as he reached out on hand for the syringe. "Alright... Fine. I can't believe I'm agreeing to this…"

That day of reckoning had come and gone, and John had done what had been asked of him. Still, the sight of the broken Sherlock, had him question his own decision and promise to the woman.

---

It had been two days since the endgame, two days since he had sneakily given Irene the injection as Sherlock had circled Moriarty in the basement. He hated to lie to his best friend, but Irene had become a close friend, too. The sacrifice she had made, had undoubtedly been harder on her than the secret was for John to keep. Irene had survived, and now would have to live with her decision. It wasn't John's burden to bear, though he wished she would rethink it all and give Sherlock's heart more credit. He knew she had been right when she had said Sherlock would rather live through his head than his heart… but it didn't mean his heart couldn't break like all others.

John now stood in the middle of the living room, gazing over at the man by the window. Sherlock was dressed in his robe and pj's, like always these days, and he was quietly gazing down at the streets below. The only thing different from last time was that he didn't write sad music now. It seemed the energy for composing had vanished from Sherlock's limber muscles.

After Sherlock had let himself cry and feel the worst of the heartbreak, the detective hadn't showed emotions once. He had upheld an impassive wall and closed himself off from all of John and Mrs Hudson's friendly attempts of reaching out to him.

"Sherlock…?" John asked with a gentle voice. As usual, he got no response. "Molly and Greg are here. If you're up for it? I have to... I have to go see Mary. I'll be back later."

John hesitated and gazed over at the man a final time, knowing that he was about to go behind his back one final time. Sherlock didn't even react to his words. At length, John turned around and looked over at Molly and Greg who waited by the stairs.

Tears were streaming down Molly's face already as Greg rubbed her back in comfort. The news had struck the young woman harder than John had expected. The friendship between the two women had obviously been stronger than he had known.

Even Greg seemed affected by the recent events. As he noticed John's gaze on him, the policeman shrugged. "It's really a shame, you know. Irene was a good, sweet woman… and quite the good detective, too."

John nodded and glanced back at Sherlock in the window. "Mm, I hear she caught on to clues much quicker than I."

With a final nod at their guests, John walked past them and out of Baker Street. Molly wasted little time as she timidly crossed the living room and stopped right behind the silent detective.

"I just…" Molly smiled through her tears. "…just wanted to see how you were holding up… H-how are you holding up?"

"Fine," Sherlock replied in a dull voice, but acknowledged their presence in no other way. "Been better."

"I can't believe I'm actually saying this but… I'm going to miss her," Molly sniffled. "She was a good friend… So strong. But I think she carried some insecurities, too. Did you know she once told me she wanted your friends to be her friends, too, so that we wouldn't turn against her?... I think she grew to care about us, too."

"Hmm…" was the only reply Sherlock offered her and Molly sniffled in silent despair.

---

An hour later as the sun was just about to set on the horizon and the chill of autumn was creeping closer, John gazed at the woman opposite him on the docks. She looked just as defeated as the man John had left behind at Baker Street earlier, though infinitely less aware of it. Irene's old walls were crumbling and new ones were already forming in her eyes.

She looked almost as pale as he had seen her on the floor in the basement, but at least her pulse was beating strong. Though, as far as Sherlock knew, of course, that wasn't the case.

"How is he?" Irene asked casually.

"Worse than last time," John admitted and decided he wouldn't hold back. "I wish you'd change you're mind, Irene. It hurts to see Sherlock like this… he's just sinking deeper and deeper into himself. I told you this would happen."

Irene's smile was aloof but didn't reach her eyes. "He'll be himself in no time."

"It's like you don't even care for him... I know you do, though. You don't have to hide behind your walls anymore… Just… don't be too afraid either," John squinted his eyes as he tried to read her. The defeat in her eyes was still visible despite her attempts to hide it behind her walls.

Irene sighed and glanced at the boat by the docks. It was just a normal, strong fishing boat, there was nothing special about it. Nothing to draw any kind of attention to it. But it was Irene's ticket out of London. Mycroft had made all the arrangements and kept it all in the dark. The boat would take Irene as far as France. She refused to tell John what awaited her afterwards, and she also withheld the new identity Mycroft had given her. John knew secrecy was rather the point of all this, but still felt sad it had to come to this. Everything had changed now, and nothing could ever be the same. Not for Irene who was forced to find a new life and not for John and Sherlock who were forced to remain behind.

"Why are you really doing this?" John asked as he saw Irene's dull eyes gaze up at the ship as well

Irene smiled sadly and turned back to her friend. "I just have to give up on him."

"No, you don't," John argued once more. It was his firm belief she was making the wrong choice, but only she could change it back. For some reason, John had the idea that the reason for her decision had more to do with a deal made with Mycroft than her own heart.

"Yes… I do."

"Why? You make him happy. He makes you happy. If it's fear… Share it with him. He'll understand. You can work on it. Together. I thought you understood. I thought you would stay... You are the person he needs, who cares for him. I don't want to see him become nothing if you leave. Is there no way I can make you change your mind?"

Irene shook her head. John had always been the romantic. A feat neither she nor Sherlock had ever shared with him. There were no words that would make him see things as she did. "I can't explain it, John. Sometimes… things just are. It has to be this way. You tried, John. But it was over even before it began. I knew that… For awhile, I was simply fooled into believing otherwise."

"Stop this, Irene..." John half-begged and took a step closer to her. "For Sherlock. Come back with me."

"I mean it when I say I can't," the woman whispered. Even though Mycroft weren't there on the docks beside her, she knew he was watching them from somewhere near by. "I wish I could… I'm sorry, John. It's better this way. Sherlock can never know."

"He'll figure this out, you know," said John. "Like he always does. He won't rest… Not when it concerns you, Irene."

"Maybe. But I'm good at covering my tracks. Hopefully, the trail dies here. I trust you, John. I trust you'll never tell Sherlock any of this."

John shook his head. "… I won't. Not that I like lying to him. Again."

Irene smiled and reached out for the man's hand. She squeezed it in her own and tried to convey the gratitude she felt towards his kindness. Though she knew she would miss Sherlock the most, there was a part of her that had grown rather fond of the doctor, too. "Take care of him, John. And of yourself."

"Maybe we'll see each other one day?" he asked hopefully.

Irene smiled and shook her head. "We won't. But I appreciate the sentiment. Goodbye, Mr Watson."

"Bye, Irene. Take care. Don't misbehave too much."

Irene smirked and even managed a wink in his direction. "I make no such promises."

The woman shrugged her dark coat closer to her slim shape and quickly stepped aboard the ship. She gazed down at John, who waved solemnly up at her, as the crewmen around her prepared to set off.

In her purse rested all the papers she needed to make a new life for herself. Still… Irene couldn't help it as her eyes searched the harbour for the tall, familiar frame of Sherlock Holmes. Though she saw many men out at this hour of the evening in the harbour, none were the man she was looking for. Irene let out a low sigh and didn't know if she felt relief or regret. If he wasn't there, it meant her plan had worked after all. She had pulled off her scheme and beaten Sherlock's cleverness again.

The boat slowly left the harbour and Irene walked over to the bow of the ship, hoping she could stay out of the crew's way if she simply remained there. The smell of salt water hit her nose and the wind blew through her loose hair as they set course for the continent. Irene closed her eyes.

"Where are we going?"

A tear rolled from the corner of the woman's eyes even as she exhaled. She slowly turned in the direction of the unexpected voice, afraid to learn the truth of the man's identity.

For a second she simply gazed up at the tall man who walked over to her, having recently exited the captain's cabin. His long, dark cloak fluttered around his tall legs as he came closer and eventually stopped right beside her.

Irene opened her mouth but no sound came out. She cleared her throat and tried again, "I don't know…"

Sherlock shrugged. "I hear Pakistan is lovely this time of year."

Irene shook her head. "I've been there. It's not to die for…"

Their eyes met across the abyss that had divided them and all words seemed to vanish into their silent communication. The distance between them felt both like miles and millimeters at the same time.

Sherlock took in her appearance and let out a relieved breath. A weight seemed to have been lifted from his shoulders as he took in her appearance before him. He raised one of his calloused hands and gently placed it on her shoulder, just so that he could feel her warmth and know this was real. That she was actually alive.

As if his touch washed away the last of her resolve, Irene exhaled, too, and stepped closer. She stepped into his arms and buried her face in the crook of his neck as his strong arms slowly and hesitantly enveloped her slim waist.

"I didn't think you could still surprise me… You're just always one step ahead, aren't you?" her voice was muffled against the fabric of his coat.

"I'm offended," Sherlock said. "You sound surprised."

Irene stepped back and looked up at him again. "It would have been easier if you weren't… Do you understand why I did it?"

Sherlock nodded once. "I do."

"...And?"

"I won't let you beat me," Sherlock smirked victoriously and walked over to the railing as if he needed the extra space to move. "I beat Moriarty. I won. You're not taking that victory away from me."

"How did you...?"

"How did you?" he asked right back with a pointed look before he threw himself into an explanation, "You're brighter than most humans, Irene. You catch on fast. You read people and their secrets well, and you've already proven you know how Moriarty worked. Of course you would figure his game out. But you really shouldn't have asked my brother to help..."

Irene sighed and grimaced up at him. "I know."

"I mean it, Irene. You and my brother shouldn't have gone behind my back and decided what was best for my heart. Mycroft doesn't know how my heart works," Sherlock said and simply gazed down at her with understanding, sad eyes.

"Do you know how it works?" Irene asked hesitantly.

"No," Sherlock admitted shortly. He then turned away from her once more and hurriedly continued with his swift deductions. "I didn't think of it at the moment, but my brother's appearance in the basement was off. There was no reason why Mycroft should have been there. Begged the question - How did he know? The medics arrived too swift, of course. And no one let me see your body after it was over. When I put the clues together, it didn't take long to figure the rest out. As for John's involvement... That was more clever of you. I admit, I didn't think he would help you with something like this... but he cares, Irene. For both of us. He would never turn on you, despite being my friend first. Unfortunately for you, he cares just a little bit more about me."

"He told you?"

Sherlock shook his head. "Insinuated, I'd rather like to believe. He never said it outright, but I believe he knew I would figure it out."

Irene sighed and failed to meet the man's eyes after his lengthy monologue. "…Now what?"

"I don't know," Sherlock admitted with a shrug and it was the first time she had heard the genius utter those words in such a heartfelt way. "All I know is that I want to keep solving crimes. And your contribution to my speedy deductions, my mental health and my well-being is… highly appreciated. Of course, it helps that your mind is faster than John's, too."

"I do make one sexy flatmate, too, don't I?" Irene cooed.

"It's a tie with John there, I'm afraid," Sherlock joked and then turned serious again. "...You were right."

"About what?" Irene frowned up at the man.

"You're not Moriarty's strength," Sherlock admitted and his intense gaze broke through her defenses. Irene could clearly read all that went unsaid, the subtext she shared with the man had never been difficult for her heart to interpret.

There still remained much to figure out in their complicated relationship, but maybe giving it a chance was better than letting it all go to waste, after all. Whatever the future held in store for them, whatever storm lay ahead, they could try and weather it together.

"John said it could be worth it," Sherlock commented cryptically and shrugged. It was obvious he wasn't entirely certain what his friend had meant, but the words had made an impact on him.

"Maybe…" Irene began. "… there is a great mystery to solve in Hungary?"

"Or a deceitful king in Sweden?"

"A murder mystery in Turkey."

"A serial in India," Sherlock offered and shrugged his eyebrows. "What do you think?"

Irene simply nodded. If Sherlock wasn't prepared to throw in the towel just yet, neither was she.

"If you so desperately need my help to solve crimes then... I'm your woman," she smirked up at the man as the ship broke the waves and England became smaller and smaller in the distance.

Description
21. The Untold Story

Irene gazed out at the waters below, listening to the sound of the waves crashing against the docks around her. The soothing noise helped to calm her mind from the wild storm that raged within. She closed her eyes and let the memories of the past few days wash over her.

---

"…Why did you do it?"

Irene smiled sadly. "I didn't."

With those simple words, she turned on her heel and, too, exited the cellar as she withdrew her phone from her pocket and dialed a familiar number. She held the phone close to her ear and waited for the person on the other end to reply.

"It's me," she said at last when the person did. "We need to talk."

---

Irene walked into the cold, grey area on swift feet.

She had left the basement just a short while ago, and the falsified images still haunted her memory vividly. After the events, she had hurried to Baker Street and tried to explain her deductions to the genius, but Sherlock had simply shut the door on her and her explanations. He had with that simple move knocked the world, as she had known it, irrevocably off-course.

She had expected Moriarty's next move to include her, but had not expected to be used as a pawn to destroy the detective. It had been the first time she had misjudged the reaches of Moriarty's cruelty, for she hadn't expected he would use her as both the arrow and the target.

The cold, dark shadow she had seen on Sherlock's face as he had watched the video had sent sharp pains through her heart. He had obviously jumped to the conclusion that the video was real and there was little now that would sway his mind.

That was part of the reason she had made that call. She had lost him now, in fact she had lost everything because of the whimsical games of a mad man. Now, there was only one way for her to get out of it alive, and she needed the help of one she had rather hoped to avoid. Now that her world was slipping through her fingers, this was nonetheless necessary. Everything was falling apart, and she had to save the one thing she could. Even if it meant taking drastic measures.

As she stepped further into the enclosed space, she saw his figure under the pale lights up ahead. The tall man was clad in a suit as usual and he was leaning casually against his umbrella. There was an arrogant smile on his thin lips, as if he was already filled with an air of victory, even before the fight. Irene was inclined to agree this arrogance was well-placed.

"I must admit, after our last discussion, I thought you'd never call…" Mycroft said as Irene stopped a few steps before him. "Yet here you are. Begs the question – Why? Why are you here, Ms Adler?"

Irene sighed and steeled herself for what she new would be another uphill battle. "I'm here… to help your brother."

The elder Holmes boy shifted his weight from one foot to the other as he glared across the empty space at the woman."You must be truly desperate, Ms Adler, if you come to me."

"I'm probably dead already," she agreed and met the man's gaze without fear or remorse. If she refused to play the game, perhaps Mycroft would take her seriously. This time, she needed the man to listen.

Something flashed in Mycroft's pale eyes that told her he understood her silent plea. The smirk was wiped from his face and replaced by a small, unsure frown. "Why come here and risk everything for my brother?"

Irene shrugged as innocently as only she could, "I don't intend to go without raising a little hell first… I'm here to make a deal."

Time passed painfully slow as Mycroft's disbelieving eyes searched hers for the answers she weren't giving. "He threw you out…"

"...Yes."

"I'm not helping you get him back, Ms Adler."

"I'm not asking you to," Irene commented through gritted teeth.

"Ms Alder, I-"

Irene interrupted him sternly, "Will you just listen to me? It's my turn to talk."

Mycroft inhaled slowly and nodded once. Irene closed her eyes briefly and continued, "Things are set in motion, Mr Holmes. It will happen so fast… You asked me to come to you when Moriarty returned for his final game… well, he's back. And he is deadly. I need your help to protect Sherlock."

The smug, victorious smirk returned to Mycroft's thin lips. "Ah!… Role reversal. How, may I ask, do you plan for us to protect my baby brother? He doesn't much believe he needs protection…"

Irene's voice was cold and dark as she spoke, "Sherlock has to kill Moriarty. You'll help him do that."

Mycroft paused a beat and Irene saw the intrigue shine stronger and stronger in his pale eyes. He didn't fully understand what she was getting at, but was still interested enough to hear her out. "A risky project, don't you agree? We all know how slippery Moriarty can be."

"He won't be this time."

Once more, Mycroft gazed at her through hesitant disbelief. "You sound sure. sure."

"Trust me, Mr Holmes," Irene smiled joylessly. "Moriarty won't leave anything to chance this time. He wouldn't have come back if he hadn't planned a final act against Sherlock. This is truly the endgame. Moriarty will finish this whether he wins or not."

"You've spoken with him then?"

Irene shook her head. "Not yet. Soon. He knows I'll be in touch… He did-… It doesn't matter what he did, but he has it all figured out from here. The only thing I figure he hasn't counted on, is this…"

Mycroft nodded slowly. "Maybe you're right. Sherlock's definitely never come to me in the past. It's not something Moriarty would expect."

"Moriarty knows I hate you more than I hate him. Sherlock knows it, too. Neither of them will expect me to come to you for help… and they never will. You must understand this is the only way… if Sherlock is to remain alive. "

"And if I help… what will I get in return?"

Irene looked down and paused. She knew she held Mycroft's interest in the palm of her hand, and might persuade him to help her. But, of course, everything came with a prize. To Irene, she could only give him the last remains of the life she had not already been robbed of. "I'll leave your brother and England. For good."

The man's eyes widened in surprise and he beheld her for a couple of long seconds. It seemed he was trying to figure out the sincerity of her offer. "…My brother would follow."

"Not if you kill me."

The shock on Mycroft's face tenfolded upon hearing her cryptic suggestion. "…And how do you propose I do that?"

"First, you need to fool Sherlock Holmes," Irene explained.

Mycroft huffed. "Don't be ridicculous. No one can fool my brother."

"I can," Irene said confidently and tried to convey the truth with her gaze.

Mycroft's eyes were wide and filled with shock. It seemed to this, he had no clever comeback or comment. He was dumbstruck by her words.

"You know I can. That was, after all, part of the reason you came asking for my help last time," Irene pushed on. "You were right. I can sneak into Sherlock's mind palace and out again without being detected. I am your only chance, and though you hate it, you have no choice but to listen to my deal."

Mycroft sighed and there was defeat in his posture. "Very well. Go on."

"I believe I can read them both. I've learned much from watching Sherlock and Moriarty. I've learned how they work. I know Moriarty plans to kidnap me somewhere. To get to Sherlock. Now, if Sherlock doesn't follow, you'll have lost nothing… But if he does follow-"

"-you'll lose everything." Mycroft finished for her. "Tell me… Sherlock's thrown you out. What makes you think he'll follow you? What makes you think he still cares?"

Irene pushed the last memory with Sherlock from her head and tried to hide the pain she felt. Perhaps Mycroft's insinuation was correct. Perhaps she had lost the detective's heart already. It certainly had felt like it when he had forced the suitcase into her hand and looked down at her with dead eyes.

"Call it instinct," Irene shrugged her eyebrows and smirked up at the elder Holmes boy. "Moriarty has the upper hand right now. He will lock Sherlock in the darkest recesses of his mind. Sherlock needs to be pulled out from that place so that he can focus and beat Moriarty."

"And how do you plan on doing that?"

"Leave that to me," Irene said mysteriously. "I need you to aid Sherlock with everything you've got. He'll most likely need back up. Use your connections, give him help, tap into his phone. I can tell you that Moriarty is nostalgic this time around. He'll bring the final game to one of two familiar venues. A swimming hall or a basement. I'll text the adresses for both to you. Keep ready. Make sure Lestrade can provide Sherlock with guns, ammunition and whatever protection he might ask for. But let Sherlock believe that's his idea."

"Then what?"

"When you learn which position Moriarty will choose, block his escape routes. I'm sure I don't have to ask you to do it stealthily. If Sherlock learns you've contributed, all will be threatened… If all goes according to plan, Sherlock will beat Moriarty mostly on his own... But we just can't take that risk."

Mycroft paused to contemplate something and turned his watchful gaze back to the woman."…I'm curious about one aspect of your plan. How do you intend to fake your death?"

"That's where I truly need your help," Irene whispered. "I think I can figure out what Moriarty means to do to me and use my abilities to survive… If I make it, Sherlock will be tricked into phoning an ambulance, believing I'm dead."

"… And you want my people to take the call?"

"Yes," Irene nodded. "And I want you to send an ambulance, with your people dressed as medics. Wheel me out and… I'll be gone from his life. Forever."

Mycroft exhaled deeply and asked, "…Why are you doing this?"

"It doesn't matter," Irene grinned coldly, hoping it would throw Mycroft off. "I told you, I'm already dead."

"I'm going to need more than that, Ms Adler…"

Irene sighed as she recognised the stiff grin on Mycroft's face. Last time, she had pushed him for more answers, and he was merely returning the unkind gesture now. She had expected to meet tough resistance, yet had hoped she wouldn't have to wear her heart on her sleeve infront of him. "He doesn't believe he's capable of love. I don't think he can describe what he feels now, so he hides behind what he knows. Behind his intelligence. But one way or the other… he cares. That's why I think he'll follow, and try to save me."

"…But?"

"But… you were right," Irene admitted with a grimace. For some reason, it hurt to admit. It didn't only hurt her pride to say it to Mycroft, but it made her heart feel bruised and beaten as well. "Sherlock might be capable of love, but his mind isn't. He can't have such an attachment to anyone. He can't put the key to the greatness of his mind in someone else's hands. Least of all me. He can't lean on me… Sherlock can't lean on anybody. That's why it can't work. That's why I should disappear once more. This time, without him knowing the truth."

"And you're hoping he'll care enough to mourn you, and not see the signs that you're alive?"

"It's not hope, I know he won't," Irene shook her head. "I know I can fool him. But I'll need help to do it…Moriarty has to die. I know you see it the same way I do… If Sherlock doesn't kill him, Moriarty will haunt Sherlock forever. That's why we have to make Sherlock see it like we do. If I die… it might be enough to push him over the edge."

"I see…" Mycroft nodded. "This deal of yours... it's really about your heart, isn't it? Everything you've told me here tonight… Your sacrifice… You're willing to do all this because you love him."

Irene neither confirmed nor denied his deduction but cleared her throat in discomfort. She had let her mask slip enough for this meeting and now glared up at him from behind her protective walls. "If it runs as I believe it will; Sherlock will kill Moriarty, and I'll be gone, too. Is that a deal you're willing to make, or not?"

Irene stepped closer and stretched out her hand towards the man. If Mycroft agreed, half the race would be won.

There was barely a beat, before Mycroft reached forward as well and shook her hand, sealing their deal.

---

It had now been almost an hour since the events in the basement, when Irene found her steps returning there. She had made a second call after having left Mycroft in the parking house. Though she had found the meeting with the elder Holmes brother difficult, she had a feeling this would be harder still for her heart.

As she opened the door once more, she heard the scraping sound of a pair of shoes against the ground and gazed over as John stood up to meet her. The anger and betrayal in his eyes was subdued, but it was evident the trust was gone. His wide, pale eyes watched her now as she moved further in the room.

"Why did you want to meet, Irene?" John asked hurriedly. It was obviously a question he had asked himself over and over in his head. It seemed he was searching for the reason he had chosen to wait for her at all. In his hand rested the disc with the repulsive recording on it.

"I need your help, John," Irene explained silently and there was a hint of desperation in her dark voice. "More than you know."

John huffed sarcastically, "Why would I help you? After everything you've done…"

Irene nodded down at the disc in the blond man's hand. "You know that's fake."

"Do I?... Do I?"

Irene felt his disbelief in the air and the feeling of hurt intensified in her heart. "I would never do that to Sherlock… I would never…"

John shook his head and turned away from the woman ahead. It seemed he couldn't face her after everything that had happened. "You betrayed him, Irene… I always knew that you could never give up your life of misbehavior… but betrayal? I thought you cared for him."

"John, I told you – I didn't do it!" Irene practically begged.

"I'm not sure about anything right now! This…," John waved the disc in his hand and looked down at it with a sigh. "… I just don't know. It's possible…"

"What?" Irene asked and couldn't hide the hopefulness in her voice.

John sighed and turned back to face her. "Two years ago, Moriarty had an ace up his sleeve. He fabricated evidence to make it seem as if he was the innocent one, and that Sherlock had hired him to play a part. All to make the world believe Sherlock was a mad killer… This video… It just feels the same way it did then, it's almost too insane to be true… But I don't know."

"Ask me again."

John's gaze held the woman's, his own mind seemed to already have registered her request. Her command was simple, but John knew the truth wouldn't be. He understood what she wished from him now, and conceded with her request. "… Do you love him?"

Irene's truthful eyes gazed at John for a long second to make sure she had his undivided attention, before she replied, "… Yes."

John inhaled deeply and tried to process everything that had happened and was sure to come. It was all too much for his simple mind. He knew he had an important decision to make. Either to trust the woman that stood before him now, or turn his back on her and believe she was only the deceiving woman he had first met.

"Sod it…" John muttered to himself. He had to give her another chance. If she was simply the deceitful dominatrix, she would never have admitted her love for Sherlock. "Alright! Alright… Say I believe you… why do you need my help?"

"Convince Sherlock it's a lie," Irene nodded in encouragement. "You're the only one who can make him see past his hurt."

"I'll try…" John promised with a tight grin. "But I can't guarantee anything. I could take this to Lestrade and his people, see if they can prove it false. I was going to anyway. But…"

"I know, John," Irene smiled back. "I know you'll do your best… But there's one more thing... Moriarty will expect me to go see him after what he did… He won't let me leave, but I have to go. He'll make me do something… unforgettable, I'm afraid. And then he'll try to kill me. I need you to help me live, but also to make Sherlock believe I'm dead."

John blinked over at her," W-…What? What are you on about?"

"I have to disappear, John… But I don't want Sherlock to hate me. I don't think I coul-…" Irene paused and eventually let out a sigh. "It's just better he thinks I'm dead."

"What?" John opened and closed his mouth in disbelief. "You don't have to… If this disc is fake, and Sherlock believes that… You don't have to disappear."

"Moriarty's game is coming, John," Irene smiled sadly. "It's not something we can run from. He'll try and kill us. You know that. It's important Sherlock doesn't die…"

"You're just afraid…" John shook his head. "It's just fear talking, Irene. Sherlock will kill Moriarty, and we can go back to normal."

Irene shook her head in reply but felt the hesitation tickle her mind. Though John's blind faith in his friend was one of a kind, Irene couldn't be swept away by it. "No… Nothing can go back to normal, John. I wish you could see it from my perspective… This has gone on for too long. If I do survive, it's better I disappear. For his sake."

"I… really don't understand what you're telling me."

"Look," Irene wet her lips and moved on to her plan instead of getting stuck on the mysteries John wanted to learn of her heart. "Moriarty will take me somewhere and lure Sherlock there to save me. Moriarty once hinted that only ice could kill me. I think I know what he has in store for me, and I could survive it. But afterwards, I need to play dead… And if worse comes to worse, I need you to revive me and help me play dead. I need your help to fool Sherlock."

"I… I can't do that to him. I-...No," John shook his head fervently.

"John… what is Sherlock's thoughts on love? Hmm? He believes love is the most dangerous of disadvantages… It's better to end this now, before someone is truly hurt."

"But someone will be hurt!" John argued back with a frown. "You've already passed that point of no return, Irene!"

"Sherlock Holmes can't let himself love," Irene argued back. "He's not the type of man who falls in love or who is fit for a relationship. The same goes for me. Us… it was just a dream, a fantasy… A lie. If I do this, if I succeed with my plan, he can have a fresh start. So could I."

"...I think you're wrong."

"Am I though? Sherlock is a brilliant man, but you saw his reaction to Moriarty's latest ploy…"

"He was angry-"

"Precisely! That was his heart, we saw, and not his head. If I stay, I fear he'll lose some of that brilliance that makes him shine so bright. Sherlock doesn't only care for his head, but he is his mind palace… If I were to take that away from him, he wouldn't be Sherlock Holmes anymore. He'd never forgive me for that."

"I don't...-"

"You are a great friend, John. To Sherlock. …To me. Please, help me do this. Help me cut loose from him, and we can all start anew when this is over," Irene's voice broke several times as she spoke and the sentiment to her voice was genuine. It broke John's heart as well. "Things can go back to the way they're supposed to be."

"If we win…" John sighed and inhaled deeply in an attempt to clear his mind. "Let's… pretend I agree to help. What exactly can I do?"

"Keep Sherlock away from me during Moriarty's final game. Make sure he doesn't feel my pulse… until after you give me this."

Irene held out her hand towards John and he gazed down at the small syringe in her hand.

"It's a far stronger drug than the one I've used to sedate Sherlock. Inject this into my arm when Sherlock's not watching. It will slow my pulse down to almost unrecognizable… It's urgent that he feels my pulse right after you give me this, when the effects are strongest. Then you make him call for an ambulance before the drug wears off. It will be over quickly, so you have to plan it carefully. I have to be wheeled out of there before my pulse returns. Mycroft has agreed to help with that."

"Mycroft?" John frowned as a whole new version of the truth revealed itself before him. "You made a deal with Mycroft? That's the actual reason why you're leaving, isn't it?"

"I already told you why I'm leaving. It has to end here… Please. I'm not doing this to hurt him. It's just… It would never work for us. This way… "

John sighed and slumped his shoulders in defeat as he reached out on hand for the syringe. "Alright... Fine. I can't believe I'm agreeing to this…"

That day of reckoning had come and gone, and John had done what had been asked of him. Still, the sight of the broken Sherlock, had him question his own decision and promise to the woman.

---

It had been two days since the endgame, two days since he had sneakily given Irene the injection as Sherlock had circled Moriarty in the basement. He hated to lie to his best friend, but Irene had become a close friend, too. The sacrifice she had made, had undoubtedly been harder on her than the secret was for John to keep. Irene had survived, and now would have to live with her decision. It wasn't John's burden to bear, though he wished she would rethink it all and give Sherlock's heart more credit. He knew she had been right when she had said Sherlock would rather live through his head than his heart… but it didn't mean his heart couldn't break like all others.

John now stood in the middle of the living room, gazing over at the man by the window. Sherlock was dressed in his robe and pj's, like always these days, and he was quietly gazing down at the streets below. The only thing different from last time was that he didn't write sad music now. It seemed the energy for composing had vanished from Sherlock's limber muscles.

After Sherlock had let himself cry and feel the worst of the heartbreak, the detective hadn't showed emotions once. He had upheld an impassive wall and closed himself off from all of John and Mrs Hudson's friendly attempts of reaching out to him.

"Sherlock…?" John asked with a gentle voice. As usual, he got no response. "Molly and Greg are here. If you're up for it? I have to... I have to go see Mary. I'll be back later."

John hesitated and gazed over at the man a final time, knowing that he was about to go behind his back one final time. Sherlock didn't even react to his words. At length, John turned around and looked over at Molly and Greg who waited by the stairs.

Tears were streaming down Molly's face already as Greg rubbed her back in comfort. The news had struck the young woman harder than John had expected. The friendship between the two women had obviously been stronger than he had known.

Even Greg seemed affected by the recent events. As he noticed John's gaze on him, the policeman shrugged. "It's really a shame, you know. Irene was a good, sweet woman… and quite the good detective, too."

John nodded and glanced back at Sherlock in the window. "Mm, I hear she caught on to clues much quicker than I."

With a final nod at their guests, John walked past them and out of Baker Street. Molly wasted little time as she timidly crossed the living room and stopped right behind the silent detective.

"I just…" Molly smiled through her tears. "…just wanted to see how you were holding up… H-how are you holding up?"

"Fine," Sherlock replied in a dull voice, but acknowledged their presence in no other way. "Been better."

"I can't believe I'm actually saying this but… I'm going to miss her," Molly sniffled. "She was a good friend… So strong. But I think she carried some insecurities, too. Did you know she once told me she wanted your friends to be her friends, too, so that we wouldn't turn against her?... I think she grew to care about us, too."

"Hmm…" was the only reply Sherlock offered her and Molly sniffled in silent despair.

---

An hour later as the sun was just about to set on the horizon and the chill of autumn was creeping closer, John gazed at the woman opposite him on the docks. She looked just as defeated as the man John had left behind at Baker Street earlier, though infinitely less aware of it. Irene's old walls were crumbling and new ones were already forming in her eyes.

She looked almost as pale as he had seen her on the floor in the basement, but at least her pulse was beating strong. Though, as far as Sherlock knew, of course, that wasn't the case.

"How is he?" Irene asked casually.

"Worse than last time," John admitted and decided he wouldn't hold back. "I wish you'd change you're mind, Irene. It hurts to see Sherlock like this… he's just sinking deeper and deeper into himself. I told you this would happen."

Irene's smile was aloof but didn't reach her eyes. "He'll be himself in no time."

"It's like you don't even care for him... I know you do, though. You don't have to hide behind your walls anymore… Just… don't be too afraid either," John squinted his eyes as he tried to read her. The defeat in her eyes was still visible despite her attempts to hide it behind her walls.

Irene sighed and glanced at the boat by the docks. It was just a normal, strong fishing boat, there was nothing special about it. Nothing to draw any kind of attention to it. But it was Irene's ticket out of London. Mycroft had made all the arrangements and kept it all in the dark. The boat would take Irene as far as France. She refused to tell John what awaited her afterwards, and she also withheld the new identity Mycroft had given her. John knew secrecy was rather the point of all this, but still felt sad it had to come to this. Everything had changed now, and nothing could ever be the same. Not for Irene who was forced to find a new life and not for John and Sherlock who were forced to remain behind.

"Why are you really doing this?" John asked as he saw Irene's dull eyes gaze up at the ship as well

Irene smiled sadly and turned back to her friend. "I just have to give up on him."

"No, you don't," John argued once more. It was his firm belief she was making the wrong choice, but only she could change it back. For some reason, John had the idea that the reason for her decision had more to do with a deal made with Mycroft than her own heart.

"Yes… I do."

"Why? You make him happy. He makes you happy. If it's fear… Share it with him. He'll understand. You can work on it. Together. I thought you understood. I thought you would stay... You are the person he needs, who cares for him. I don't want to see him become nothing if you leave. Is there no way I can make you change your mind?"

Irene shook her head. John had always been the romantic. A feat neither she nor Sherlock had ever shared with him. There were no words that would make him see things as she did. "I can't explain it, John. Sometimes… things just are. It has to be this way. You tried, John. But it was over even before it began. I knew that… For awhile, I was simply fooled into believing otherwise."

"Stop this, Irene..." John half-begged and took a step closer to her. "For Sherlock. Come back with me."

"I mean it when I say I can't," the woman whispered. Even though Mycroft weren't there on the docks beside her, she knew he was watching them from somewhere near by. "I wish I could… I'm sorry, John. It's better this way. Sherlock can never know."

"He'll figure this out, you know," said John. "Like he always does. He won't rest… Not when it concerns you, Irene."

"Maybe. But I'm good at covering my tracks. Hopefully, the trail dies here. I trust you, John. I trust you'll never tell Sherlock any of this."

John shook his head. "… I won't. Not that I like lying to him. Again."

Irene smiled and reached out for the man's hand. She squeezed it in her own and tried to convey the gratitude she felt towards his kindness. Though she knew she would miss Sherlock the most, there was a part of her that had grown rather fond of the doctor, too. "Take care of him, John. And of yourself."

"Maybe we'll see each other one day?" he asked hopefully.

Irene smiled and shook her head. "We won't. But I appreciate the sentiment. Goodbye, Mr Watson."

"Bye, Irene. Take care. Don't misbehave too much."

Irene smirked and even managed a wink in his direction. "I make no such promises."

The woman shrugged her dark coat closer to her slim shape and quickly stepped aboard the ship. She gazed down at John, who waved solemnly up at her, as the crewmen around her prepared to set off.

In her purse rested all the papers she needed to make a new life for herself. Still… Irene couldn't help it as her eyes searched the harbour for the tall, familiar frame of Sherlock Holmes. Though she saw many men out at this hour of the evening in the harbour, none were the man she was looking for. Irene let out a low sigh and didn't know if she felt relief or regret. If he wasn't there, it meant her plan had worked after all. She had pulled off her scheme and beaten Sherlock's cleverness again.

The boat slowly left the harbour and Irene walked over to the bow of the ship, hoping she could stay out of the crew's way if she simply remained there. The smell of salt water hit her nose and the wind blew through her loose hair as they set course for the continent. Irene closed her eyes.

"Where are we going?"

A tear rolled from the corner of the woman's eyes even as she exhaled. She slowly turned in the direction of the unexpected voice, afraid to learn the truth of the man's identity.

For a second she simply gazed up at the tall man who walked over to her, having recently exited the captain's cabin. His long, dark cloak fluttered around his tall legs as he came closer and eventually stopped right beside her.

Irene opened her mouth but no sound came out. She cleared her throat and tried again, "I don't know…"

Sherlock shrugged. "I hear Pakistan is lovely this time of year."

Irene shook her head. "I've been there. It's not to die for…"

Their eyes met across the abyss that had divided them and all words seemed to vanish into their silent communication. The distance between them felt both like miles and millimeters at the same time.

Sherlock took in her appearance and let out a relieved breath. A weight seemed to have been lifted from his shoulders as he took in her appearance before him. He raised one of his calloused hands and gently placed it on her shoulder, just so that he could feel her warmth and know this was real. That she was actually alive.

As if his touch washed away the last of her resolve, Irene exhaled, too, and stepped closer. She stepped into his arms and buried her face in the crook of his neck as his strong arms slowly and hesitantly enveloped her slim waist.

"I didn't think you could still surprise me… You're just always one step ahead, aren't you?" her voice was muffled against the fabric of his coat.

"I'm offended," Sherlock said. "You sound surprised."

Irene stepped back and looked up at him again. "It would have been easier if you weren't… Do you understand why I did it?"

Sherlock nodded once. "I do."

"...And?"

"I won't let you beat me," Sherlock smirked victoriously and walked over to the railing as if he needed the extra space to move. "I beat Moriarty. I won. You're not taking that victory away from me."

"How did you...?"

"How did you?" he asked right back with a pointed look before he threw himself into an explanation, "You're brighter than most humans, Irene. You catch on fast. You read people and their secrets well, and you've already proven you know how Moriarty worked. Of course you would figure his game out. But you really shouldn't have asked my brother to help..."

Irene sighed and grimaced up at him. "I know."

"I mean it, Irene. You and my brother shouldn't have gone behind my back and decided what was best for my heart. Mycroft doesn't know how my heart works," Sherlock said and simply gazed down at her with understanding, sad eyes.

"Do you know how it works?" Irene asked hesitantly.

"No," Sherlock admitted shortly. He then turned away from her once more and hurriedly continued with his swift deductions. "I didn't think of it at the moment, but my brother's appearance in the basement was off. There was no reason why Mycroft should have been there. Begged the question - How did he know? The medics arrived too swift, of course. And no one let me see your body after it was over. When I put the clues together, it didn't take long to figure the rest out. As for John's involvement... That was more clever of you. I admit, I didn't think he would help you with something like this... but he cares, Irene. For both of us. He would never turn on you, despite being my friend first. Unfortunately for you, he cares just a little bit more about me."

"He told you?"

Sherlock shook his head. "Insinuated, I'd rather like to believe. He never said it outright, but I believe he knew I would figure it out."

Irene sighed and failed to meet the man's eyes after his lengthy monologue. "…Now what?"

"I don't know," Sherlock admitted with a shrug and it was the first time she had heard the genius utter those words in such a heartfelt way. "All I know is that I want to keep solving crimes. And your contribution to my speedy deductions, my mental health and my well-being is… highly appreciated. Of course, it helps that your mind is faster than John's, too."

"I do make one sexy flatmate, too, don't I?" Irene cooed.

"It's a tie with John there, I'm afraid," Sherlock joked and then turned serious again. "...You were right."

"About what?" Irene frowned up at the man.

"You're not Moriarty's strength," Sherlock admitted and his intense gaze broke through her defenses. Irene could clearly read all that went unsaid, the subtext she shared with the man had never been difficult for her heart to interpret.

There still remained much to figure out in their complicated relationship, but maybe giving it a chance was better than letting it all go to waste, after all. Whatever the future held in store for them, whatever storm lay ahead, they could try and weather it together.

"John said it could be worth it," Sherlock commented cryptically and shrugged. It was obvious he wasn't entirely certain what his friend had meant, but the words had made an impact on him.

"Maybe…" Irene began. "… there is a great mystery to solve in Hungary?"

"Or a deceitful king in Sweden?"

"A murder mystery in Turkey."

"A serial in India," Sherlock offered and shrugged his eyebrows. "What do you think?"

Irene simply nodded. If Sherlock wasn't prepared to throw in the towel just yet, neither was she.

"If you so desperately need my help to solve crimes then... I'm your woman," she smirked up at the man as the ship broke the waves and England became smaller and smaller in the distance.