[Unlike Sherlock’s profession, hers was a highly social one. Whereas conversation on a case was only mandatory in the exchange of facts and deductions, Irene had to chat up her clients in order to get them to slip up. She only had a limited supply of narcotics after all, and those were saved for her special friends... also known as the blokes who dared to challenge her authority. That was probably why Sherlock had been on the receiving end when they first met.]
[Another thing that is a positive in their relationship is their different levels of interest in sex. Had Sherlock been anyone else, they wouldn’t have accepted the nature of her profession which often involved sexual favours and foreplay in order for her to collect the information she required in order to weave her intricate web of scandals. There are many levels of importance in her web, and multiple failsafes that ensured she remained protected if anyone attempted to double cross her or break their deal. One thing Irene has done recently is refusing to have sex with clients, out of a semblance of loyalty to Sherlock. She was sure he noticed, and wondered if he appreciated the gesture.]
[It was a windy day and Irene tugs up the collar of her fur coat in order to keep her neck warm. She grins crookedly with a raised eyebrow as he opens for her.] Such chivalry… what a kind man. [Irene coos teasingly, taking a seat and doing up her seatbelt with a smirk.]
[Whilst Sherlock is fully capable of charming someone should he need to, he actively decides against it, because he doesn’t like unnecessary social interaction. He’d rather just turn on the charm if he absolutely needs to. Whereas, with Irene, it seems she has it turned on permanently, she simply can’t help herself. She’s always flirting, always charming everyone that she meets, and it’s something that Sherlock’s grown rather used to.]
[Oh, Sherlock’s noticed. And he’s surprised by the fact that he genuinely appreciates her effort. He doesn’t mind her continuing her work, of course, that doesn’t bother him in the slightest. But, really, he’s not quite sure he’d like the idea of her sleeping with them, now. To start with it didn’t phase him in the slightest, but now that idea is less than appealing, and so he’s quite appreciative of the fact that she no longer feels the need to sleep with them.]
[Sherlock’s eyebrow inches upwards at her teasing, and he slides into the cab beside her, settling back against the seat.] It’s easier than receiving the cold shoulder for the remainder of the trip. [He comments, glancing at his watch before he shoots her an amused look.]
Just taking in the view.
Overrated, if you ask me. I was led to believe it was quite…impressive.
You shouldn’t always believe what you’re told.
A common mistake.
[hey who wants a starter]
‘ I'll keep that in mind.
We need biscuits, as well.
[Irene often finds herself speculating how her life might’ve turned out if they hadn’t grown close. She knew she’d made a lasting impression, seeing as he saved her life in Islamabad when he could’ve left her there to die. Irene supposed being a replacement for John was her way of saying thank you. And because they were so similar they knew how to recognize when something was wrong. Sherlock would do mundane experiments that provide little-to-no stimulation just to distract himself from whatever had irritated him. Irene would refuse clients and curl up on the couch and read for hours on end. Both of them would notice the signs in the others, but fail to see them in themselves.]
[He’s noticed her staring, and yet she doesn’t look away like she normally does. Not this time. It had been three months and she wouldn’t be depriving herself of this pleasure– she was selfish that way. But his lips had twitched faintly, and it makes her feel reassured that things were headed on the right path. Reassurance was what she needs right now.] I suppose that is correct. [Another lengthy silence blankets over them as he holds her and grips her wrist– checking her pulse, no doubt. Eventually, she speaks.] The tea will get cold. [She muses, glancing over to the mugs, which had stopped steaming. They’d still be warm enough to drink, but not for much longer.]
[Sherlock’s well aware that his life would be quiet different were it not for him and Irene getting together. He certainly wouldn’t be in a relationship, that’s for sure. Because Irene is the only person he’s actually ever felt drawn to enough that he’d willingly be in a real relationship with, because it just isn’t in his personality to be interested in something like that. But Irene has a certain way about her that’s made it very easy for him to find himself in a relationship before he could really realise it, and now it doesn’t bother him in the slightest. He enjoys her company perhaps more than he shows.]
[He tilts his head slightly when she doesn’t break her gaze, and simply keeps his eyes locked on hers, fingers pressed gently against her wrist. He’s checking her pulse, she’s absolutely right, but it’s simply to see whether or not she’s still mad with him. When she speaks, he turns his head to glance at the tea before he nods.] Of course. [Letting go of her, he reaches over for his mug and brings it to his lips to take a sip, fingers curling around the warm mug.]
Sugar, then. Everyone’s got sugar.
I was talking about your question which brought me back from my fleeting exile.
But sugar is on the tray.
❉❉❉ She swallowed, jumping slightly at the sudden harshness of his voice. She folded her hands tightly, eyes fluttering down to the ground. Huh, concrete never looked so nice. She took a slow breath before exhaling.
“I’ve social anxiety. Sorry.” she said a bit bitterly.
And your reason for coming to me?
[Sometimes Irene enjoyed being able to show him off. To see her next to him in the papers as his mystery girlfriend, seeing as no one knew her name. Irene Adler was dead, after all. She’d died a long time ago and her resurrection was only known by a select few. However unlike Sherlock, her trade required her to hone her more sociable skills in order to get information, while all Sherlock has to do is deduce.]
[One of Irene’s greatest interests was sex because it was beneficial to her dominant personality. Both she and Sherlock were dominant powers, but to see herself on top of him while he moaned her name was very empowering. It thrilled her and so she pined for that feeling. She had other reasons as well, but they weren’t nearly as influential as the feeling of power.]
[She supposes the quirk she had for him opening doors for her also stemmed from her sense of control. She saw herself as royalty and expects to be treated as such.] Why thank you. [Irene smirks faintly, strutting through the doorway with her shoulders back and her chin up, feeling the cold hair on her face once she’s outside.]
[He’s well aware that Irene enjoys showing off the fact that they’re together. Whilst he’s not entirely sure why she enjoys it so much, he doesn’t begrudge her it and simply makes no comment, since it doesn’t affect him in any way. He’d much prefer it if he didn’t have to talk to most people unless it was for a case, especially considering he’s really not very good at socialising, and so he leaves the majority of it to Irene. She always manages well enough.]
[Sherlock’s aware that Irene enjoys sex with him so much because it’s entirely her area, and she has full control of the situation. That’s one of Irene’s main kinks, and Sherlock can’t be bothered with fighting it. Because— well, he enjoys it, more than he thought he would have when she first began propositioning him. He wouldn’t be interested in it with anyone else, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t enjoy sex with Irene.]
[Sherlock just hums and steps out behind her, pulling the door closed. He slips his hands into his pockets as he steps out onto the pavement, his eyes drifting around the street. When he spots a passing cab, he steps up to the curb and extends his hand calling it over.] After you. [He nods, holding the door open for her with a raised eyebrow.]
[Irene’s always quite impressed by the amount of work both of them put in. She’s surprised at how Sherlock actually puts in an effort to their relationship. She’s surprised at herself for being so patient. They no longer have to step on eggshells when around one another out of fear that they might say something that will spark a fight. Things had reverted back to that sense of tension after Irene had miscarried because neither of them knew how to cope. Irene had neglected her basic needs because she had been rather shocked, and Sherlock had deleted any emotions he’d felt out of habit. But they couldn’t do that anymore; they’d have to evolve, and Irene was hopeful that they were already headed in the right direction.]
[He has such pure eyes, even after life had tainted him. Even after Jim Moriarty had tainted him and forced him into hiding. They are such a pale blue, and so incredibly bright. Full of knowledge and wisdom. Irene admires them so, and not for superficial reasons. For reasons that she fails to comprehend at times. It’s mainly due to the fact that when he looks at her, his eyes are constantly locked on her own. He hadn’t quite given up on trying to deduce her yet, and her elusiveness is something that pleases him. She likes that she’s able to provide him with that thrill.] Guess. [Irene herself didn’t even know why she’d decided to come back on that day. Her legs just started moving and she found her way back home to Baker Street. Something had been calling her.]
[Before the miscarriage, things had been on track and working seamlessly. They’d managed to find a routine in which they could both fit and work in effortlessly, and that meant they weren’t bickering or insulting each other constantly. The miscarriage shook things up, and made it so that they both reverted into the mindsets they were previously both more comfortable in. Clearly, this didn’t work for them and it certainly wasn’t healthy, but it was a habit that they’d evidently yet to break. They’d do so in time, perhaps, but the initial shock of the situation had made them both react in incredibly different ways.]
[Sherlock tilts his head, his eyebrows raising slightly as he catches the way she’s looking at him. He’s often found that she does that when gazing into his eyes, and he can only assume it’s because she finds something there that captures his attention. Perhaps he’ll ask after it one day.] Hm. [He hums quietly, his gaze shifting across her features for a moment before he allows the faintest quirk to lift his lips.] You don’t even know, so I doubt there’s a true reason. Evidently, you were simply ready to come back. [He straightens up slightly, using his free hand to grasp the wrist of the hand that was linked with hers, keeping his arms snug around her waist. They were slowly reverting back to normal, thankfully.]