Chapter IV.
Adler slept in Sherlock's bed, as usually. The detective and John were sitting in the living room: Sherlock staring at the ceiling, the doctor covered in the paper. Sherlock's voice broke the peaceful silence abruptly.
'What do you think, John, why me?' he asked wondering. John looked up and put down the paper.
'My labour is remarkable, it's clear, but why did she choose me?' his voice was complentative, almost uncertain. It worried John.
'I thought you've got in the game just because of Mycroft.' he frowned.
'Possibly. At first. But the game can be played in many different ways, John, and she chose to add me in it, however. For putting on the risk? Maybe. She likes the hazard.'
'She needed you to solve the code.'
'Of course she needed me. But her phone, John. The pin did not changed , she hasn't got the opportunity since I'd got it. The pin was my name for the very beginning, maybe from before our first meeting. Why?'
Sherlock sat up, he put his hands under his chin.
'If Irene Adler would be an ordinary woman, she wouldn't be so interested in you.' John wondered.
'No.' Sherlock agreed 'she isn't an ordinary woman. She's the Woman.'
'But what could possibly interest you in her?' John continued. His friend gave him a frown, then sighed.
'Look, John. Adler doesn't behave predictably. You, Lestrade, even Mycroft are predictable. If you run out of milk, you go and get some. If you commit crimes, you run from the police. Adler? She comes here, to brother of the British Government, to the consulting detective who's daily connected to Scotland Yard: to the nearest to the fire. Explain it.'
John shrugged.
'Risk-addiction?'
'Obviously. But no.'
John frowned.
'Then?'
'Safety. People take attention at least on the things which are before they eyes. It's true on you, Lestrade and Mycroft too.'
'What?! Adler is safe till she's in your reach?!' he ejected.
'Evidently.'
'Sorry – what?!'
Sherlock rolled his eyes and sighed.
'Take the experience, John. She was safe in Belgravia...'
'...except the gun pointed at her...'
'… because I knew the code. She was safe at us, safe at Mycroft – till I was there. At the moment she left Belgravia, she was hunted; after she left Mycroft's, she was hunted. Don't you see it?' he sat back tiredly. John shrugged.
'Maybe. And until when does she want to stay?'
It provoked a fishy smile from Sherlock.
'Does it disturbes you she takes my bed?'
'Yes, Sherlock, it does!' John bopped up 'How do we know when an assasin comes at us looking for Adler? What would Mycroft think when he finds the Woman's body by us? Did you think about it at all?!'
Sherlock amused quite well.
'Oh I would look at that face.'
'Stop it! It isn't funny.'
'What's not funny?' a smooth woman voice was heard from the dicrection of the door. John caught up his head.
'Miss Adler...'
'Mister Watson.' the Woman started towards them. 'So – no one offers me a cup of tea?' she pulled up her eyebrows while lumping down on the sofa.
'John.' Sherlock waved not looking at him. His whole attention was on the book which laid completely barren in his lap a minuit before. The doctor cleaned his throat, looked at him and then back to the woman – and when he saw her gaze fixed at his friend, he rolled his eyes and stood up.
'Milk?' he asked annoyed.
'No, thank you. Two sugars.' she said still gazing at Sherlock. John exhaled and paced to the kitchen restlessly. When he disappeared, Sherlock turned a page in his book.
'Did you sleep well, Miss Adler?' he asked not looking up. It provoked a smile at Irene's face: she knew exactly that Sherlock did not grasp a sentence of the text.
'Wonderfully.' she sighed with satisfaction. 'I can still feel your smell on your pillow.' she sat back in the sofa. Sherlock chuckled quietly and closed and put over the book. He sighed and sat back in his armchair, crossed his legs and put his hands under his chin.
'Miss Adler...' he looked deep in the Woman's eyes.
'Mister Holmes...' she leaned forward and propped her elbow at her knees. They changed a couple of flirting glimps, and Sherlock leaned forward too.
'John's worried about you.'
'I should rather think so.'
'He thinks assasins would break in the flat and kill you.'
'I can't blame him, it is quite possible.' she moved towards him.
'He is worried they would find your body by us.' he let his hands fall in his lap.
'As I said: it's possible.' she said sensually.
'Maybe you should look for an other lair.' he said it with faked desire, reaching for her hand.
'Should I?' she took his hand in hers.
'Tea's ready.' John's voice was heard from the kitchen. He learned already to speak first and step after. The two parted like a streak of lightning.
'Thank you, Mister Watson.' Irene looked at him with a smile. She took the cup from him and sat back in the seat.
'So, Mister Watson.' she turned to him, when he sat. 'What are you doing when not solving crimes with Mister Sherlock Holmes?' she blinked at the detective, who was deep in his book again. John frowned. He realized he did not have a normal conversation with the Woman all the weeks along. He hummed confused to win time to collect his thoughts.
'Well... you probably know I'm a doctor.' he began. Sherlock rolled his eyes.
'Your name Dr. John Watson makes difficult to figure it out.' he murmured under his chin. It provoked a smile from Irene.
'Go on, please.' she turned back to John.
'Right. Yes. So.' he cleaned his throat. 'Well. I'm working at a clinic. As a GP. Yes. Not very interesting to you, I suppose.'
'Oh, no, please, tell me more.' she asked with faked interest. Sherlock chuckled to himself again. Irene gave him an amused blink but looked right back at John seriously. He frowned. He could not believe she was interested in a common man's life.
'Well... I treat people and give them medicine if necessary.' he said confused.
'Fascinating.' Sherlock rolled his eyes.
'There are interesting cases.' he spoke out turning to Sherlock.
'Really? Tell me more!' his friend looked up from the book. He didn't need to look at Adler to see the amuse at her face.
'There was a man whom an additional finger started to grow on his left hand.' he told annoyed.
'How impressive!' the Woman said.
'Did you say him to learn how to play the piano? Six fingers are better than five...' Sherlock put on. John got edgy.
'Go on with that book, Sherlock.' he commanded.
'Better to me.' the detective murmured to himself and reopened it. Irene's face was telling her amusement very well. She cleaned her throat and crossed her legs.
'Don't you have to go to work, Mister Watson? As I understand, you have a lot of interesting cases await for you at the clinic.' she said with faked earnest.
'Yes. Maybe better to me to go.' he blinked at the smiling Sherlock annoyed. 'Have a nice day, Miss Adler.' he looked at her. 'Sherlock.' he nodded to him and got a wave from his friend but not a glance. He got his coat and paced towards the door with martial steps. Irene looked after him, and when she heard the door closing, she leaned forward and looked at Sherlock.
'He doesn't like when his job's queried.' the detective said still looking at his book.
'Yeah, I noticed.' she nodded and smiled. 'So, what's now, Mister Holmes? Do you have a case to solve, or is the day free?' she asked now with caring.
'Don't know, it's John's blog where I got the cases, but he's out, so there's no one to inform me.' he shrugged. The Woman pulled up her eyebrows.
'Maybe I could go and read them to you.' she shrugged. Sherlock closed the book and looked at her frowning.
'You?' he asked with disbelief.
'I've nothing to do, and I'm really interested in your methods.'
Sherlock looked at her cautiously. He learned how not to trust her, but never knew when. He slowly lifted his hand to point at the laptop.
'johnwatsonblog.co.uk.' he said cautiously. 'Never mind the comments.'
'Oh, I like the comments!' her eyes glimmered up. 'I always read them when I have a little time.' she sat down to the desk. Sherlock frowned confused.
'You read the blog?' he asked.
'Of course I do. There's nothing more amusing than to read how John sees your movements.'
Sherlock put down the book and turned to look at her. She was busy with tiping the homepage's address.
'Amusing?!' he bopped out. 'It makes me look like I'd be some magician or whatever.' he gestured with his hand.
'It makes you sexy.' she blinked at him flirtingly. It provoked a frown from Sherlock.
'Alright, the first one.' Irene turned back to the laptop. '”Dear Mister Holmes! I heard a lot about you...” blah blah blah “My son behaves very queerly since he got to highschool, he sleeps a lot and talks rubbish things, I fear he got...”' she looked at Sherlock. 'You already solved this, didn't you?' she sat back in the chair.
'Obvious. I wondered how far you had to read to figure it out.' he looked bored at her.
'Drugs.' she nodded.
'Next!' the detective commanded. She opened her mouth to say something, but then decided otherway, and turned back to the laptop.
'”Dear Mr. Holmes, My name is Amanda Flecker and I'm from Germany. I heard you solved some queer cases, so I thought you could help me: I live in Nessmersiel and work at the Nessmersiel-Baltrum ferry.”'
'Nessmerseel, not Nessmersale.' Sherlock cut her off. She gave him an annoyed look and went on.
'”I watch every day the cars and people getting on the ferry and getting out. There are men, very queer men, who stand by the ferry, every day, at 6:30, like they'd waiting for someone, but when the ferry arrives, no one steps to them. Each day a different man comes and waits. When everyone got out, the man takes out his notebook and writes something down, and then paces to the ferry and steps on its board, but till the first person gets on he vanishes. I tried to look for any place to hide but there's nothing! I fear I'm seeing ghosts taking the ferry to Baltrum! Please, help me, Mr Holmes!”'
Sherlock put his hand together at his mouth.
'Interesting.' he whispered.
'What, ghosts?!' the Woman laughed.
'Ghosts...' he repeated whispering.
'You don't believe in ghosts, Sherlock, do you?' she looked at him frowning.
'No. But there are men vanishing, Irene, so there's something wrong at that ferry. Write.' he commanded.
'Sorry, I don't understand.' she frowned harder.
'Write. Back, to Miss Flecker. Now.' he said harshly. The woman crossed her arms.
'You think I'm Watson.'
'No, you are the Woman.' Sherlock said his eyebrow pulled up. The word provoked a smile on Irene's face.
'I like it when you say that.' she got off the chair and kneeled beside the man. She touched his arm.
'What are you doing?' Sherlock asked frowning.
'Did you never think about it why I let my phone by you?' Sherlock frowned harder, and looked at her searching. What does she want? Information?
'Why would I?' he asked cautiously.
'Didn't you think about me at all? You, the great Sherlock Holmes, wondering why the Woman choosing him to solve a problem.'
'Because I was the only one who could break the code.'
'Exactly. You are the only one.' she smoothed his arm gently, and then her hand rested at his. 'Would you have dinner with me, Sherlock, in the evening?' she asked smiling.
'I'll have dinner with John.'
'Mmm, no, he'll have dinner with Martha.'
'Who's Martha?' Sherlock frowned. Irene pulled up her eyebrows.
'John's girlfriend. You remember her?' she frowned.
'I remember everything.'
'Even the MOD code?'
'4C12C45F13E13G60A60B61F34G34J60D12H33K34K' he counted rapidly. She made a spellbound face, now actually. Sherlock looked at her and frowned.
'What, you think I just solved it, not stored it?' he asked debasingly.
'I...' she halted.
'Oh, please, Irene.' he stood up 'There are things what one does not forget. For example -' he turned to look down at her 'the code which someone gave to your opposer.' he pressed the words. She sighed and rolled her eyes.
'Ages ago.' she stood up and fixed her hair. Sherlock did not answer just exhaled. He reached for his coat.
'What, are you going somewhere?' Irene put her hand on the hip. 'I thought we'll solve crimes.' she added in a smooth voice.
'You thought wrongly.' Sherlock put on his coat and scarf. 'Have a nice day, Miss Adler.'
She rolled her eyes and lumped down on the sofa.
'Goodbye, Mister Holmes.' she said looking out of the window. Sherlock blinked at her once again, and wondered who she really was, and if he would ever figure it out. Then turned and with quick steps hurried down the stairs, out the door. He took a deep breath and started to pace along London's noisy streets.