Chapter V. - Suspicious Adventure
When he got back, the flat was empty. He frowned – not in weeks it happened, that noone was at home when he arrived. The Woman seemed to stay forever. He threw down his coat on the sofa, and listened carefully, if maybe he got the breathing of her. When he realized the silence, with slow steps paced up to John's room. The door was open, but noone was there: not a hint if the Woman would've be there. It was two o'clock in the afternoon, he wasn't away for five hours. For a moment he was doubting if she was still alive, but then thought about their together case, and shrugged. She was a hasty, moody woman, and maybe she thought it was time to find an other place to hide, as John would've liked her to. He slowly stepped to his armchair and sat down, still forwning, his hands clasped. He exhaled calmly, and began to think.
It was close to three when John got home, taking the steps hastily, almost running.
'Sorry, I had to come home, I left my mobile at the kitchen table, and the patients were furious not to reach me only by lane. So, where is it?' he began to search his phone. Sherlock watched him carefully, till the realazation came on his face.
'Where's...' he looked at him forwning disconcerted.
'Elsewhere.' he said immovably.
'But...' the doctor stepped back into the sitting-room.
'Yes.' the detective affirmed.
'She'll die!' John cried out. 'We have to find her!' he caught for his coat, but his friend did not move and inch.
'Sherlock, that woman is out in the city, fairly alone, hunted by assassins, she'll not survive a day!' he tried to convince him.
'Yes.' Sherlock nodded still immoved.
'Sher... For God's sake!' John shouted and fumed down the stairs, hurrying out the door. Sherlock called out with upraised voice 'Your mobile.' but he heard the door shutting with a loud slam. He sighed deeply and fell back in his thoughts.
Another couple of hours passed away till John got back, gasping heavily, with the unsuccessful written on his face, finding his friend in the position he left him hours ago.
'I found her nowhere.' he threw his coat on the sofa and collapsed in his armchair. 'I searched all the places she told us about, even Belgravia, but she was nowhere. I even asked the police if there was any murder during the afternoon, but they answered they only know about a black fellow who was shot by another in the inferior districts. It is hopeless...' he sighed and squeezed his brow with his hand. Sherlock listened him carefully, but show nothing interest in the case. After a couple of moments' silence he lapsed into a smile.
'She's back.'
John caught up his head and frowned at him.
'Sorry - I just told you I could find her nowhere, possibly she's lying dead somewhere in the city, killed by a man of Moriarty, and you are joking?! Sherlock, you are a...'
'It's very kind from you, to worry about my life.' a woman's voice cut him off. He jumped up from the armchair and spinned in the direction of the voice – and gasped disbelievingly. The woman stood in the doorway smiling generously.
'Ah, Mr Holmes, I'm glad you're back. I thought I hurt you so much you'll leave this lovely place and fly to your sweet brother's.' she said in pathetic voice.
'That would never happen, Miss Adler.' he answered without passion. She smiled at that, and paced to the sofa, and sat down, taking off her high-heels.
'I do not say that it would please me, but maybe you could think about it. He's such a lovely person.' she said ironically.
'I should think you refreshed your experiences with him.' Sherlock hummed.
'Oh, no, for goodness' sake, I'd never talk to him anymore. But I saw him near his Diogenes Club, taking a walk accompanied by his umbrella and mobile phone. He was in deep conversation with one of his employees, from his manner of talk. Not that I was eavesdropping, it was only chance I met him there. I needed a bit of fresh air and took a walk in the neighborhood. I tell you, a such a great city can change a lot in a few weeks, I was decidedly surprised! Ah, I love London!' She was widely gesturing while telling her monologue. Sherlock listened frowning, taking care every word of hers.
'How did you get there?' he asked forwning. She lapsed into a confused smile, and looked at him.
'Where, my dear?'
An edgy tic run down on the detective's face by the compellation, but he ignored it for the time.
'How did you get to the Club? It's more than six miles, and you couldn't take the tube.' he searched her cautiously.
'I've got my ways.' she smiled. Sherlock looked at John, and saw the curiosity at his face – so he turned his gaze from them to the ceiling, and pretended disinterest. The woman frowned, but John – thinking that the conversation was over – cleaned his throat and asked 'All right. If everyone is pleased, I'll go and make a tea. Anyone interested?'
'Oh, yes please, doctor, I'm dying for a good cup of hot tea. It's quite chilly outside despite it is May.' she said theatrically. John nodded, and disappeared in the kitchen. The woman followed him with keen eyes and when he was out of sight she turned her gaze to the detective.
'What about you, Mr. Holmes? Did you have a good afternoon?' a small smile played on her face. 'Thought first to call you back, but after I changed my mind and started for looking for you on the streets. Unfortunately we missed each other, as I can see.' she sighed. Sherlock did not look at her, only blinked annoyed and continued to gaze at the ceiling.
'Oh don't be so sullen, I almost feel guilty.' she rolled her eyes more resentfully. 'I did not want any truble – not even trot Mr. Watson.' she shrugged, but when she could not force any reaction from the detective, she raised her voice to reach the doctor.
'I hope you did not worried yourself much about me, Mr. Watson.' she said and added more silently 'I do not want you to make trouble of my disappearence. It would be a burden to me if you'd broke yourself on searching me when I'm lying dead somewhere in the mud of London's one slough.' she looked at Sherlock to catch a glimps of reaction, but there was none. She continued 'There's no need of keeping me safe, if I'm such a fool to leave the house awake to the assassins sent after me. It's just silliness, don't you think?' she asked Watson, but watched Sherlock.
'It was, but it's over, isn't it?' an infirm voice wasa heard from the kitchen.
'It was count.' Sherlock told. The Woman frowned with attraction and wariness at one time.
'What do you mean?' she asked him with faked innocence.
'You had to look up my brother, but why? Does he have information? Or you want to give him some? Why didn't you talk to him? He thinks you're dead, and you want to keep that image, so it had to be a very firm reason if you looked him up by yourself. So what did you want from him?' he faced her. She lapsed into a smile and stood his glare.
'Oh, I just wanted to know he's alright.' she said with fake affection 'As I told: he's always been a lovely person.'
Sherlock bent his brows and searched her face carefully – and then turned away, when John stepped into the room with the tea-tray.
'Tea is ready, everyone.' he told and put it down on the coffee table. The woman gave a pleased sigh.
'Oh thank God there are still gentlemen in this country.' she took one of the cups and held to John to fill it. He did, and then blinked at his friend.
'May I fill one for you too, Sherlock?' he asked in his common military fashion.
'No, thank you, John.' he answered and lifted from his armchair, pacing to his room, leaving the two alone. John frowned, but the Woman sipped her tea like nothing has happened.
'Sometimes I wonder if everything's alright with him.' he wondered 'But then I realize that he's Sherlock Holmes.' added shrugging, putting down the teapot. The woman laughed lightly, which made John look at her confused.
'I'd never thought you could be amusing, Doctor Watson, and here: there are still miracles.' she smiled at him truly. John first looked at her staggered, but then nodded, and sat down in his armchair.
'Why?' he asked then. The woman blinked at him still smiling.
'There are things which cannot be told from first sight, neither form the second or third. Some things can be told only when getting know one.' she wondered.
'You think you know me now?' he bent his brows.
'Oh, I've known you for ages, doctor, it's only the little things which are hidden in my sight.' she smiled flirtingly. John sipped his tea embarrassed. 'I know what you like, John, and there are many things which can be told from it.'
John blinked at her inassured.
'What do I like, then?' he asked calmly.
'Oh, you like a many things. First of all: excitement. The excite of battle, I'd rather say.' she winked. The doctor looked confused – he got used to Sherlock's deductions, but never saw anyone who could tell things from a blink. And there was the Woman, who told exactly the same what his friends long years ago.
'Did Sherlock tell you about it?' It was the only possibility he could figure out. Irene broke into a wide laughter.
'Oh, God, no. He's very keen of you, he'd never tell anything which could be used against you anytime. No, I'd seen it by myself.' She put down her cup, and began to gesticulate. 'Take a man, who's out of danger no time, after killers and criminals: obviously a compulsive. Take another, a soldier, back from the field, after so many years, and he's still in the middle of danger, in a peaceful city, with a genious mind. It isn't so hard to tell.'
John shook his head but said 'Continue, please.'
'You're still fond of love - I mean, you keep people who love you. What's your girlfriend's name, Martha?'
'Yes, it is.' John nodded.
'How many you had after your homecoming and before her?' she narrowed her eyes.
John first gawped in astonishment, but then sighed and began to count.
'Five. She's the sixth.' he said with a hint of guilt, covered in military pride.
'Indeed?' she smiled. 'You're not nimphomaniac, you're like any average man. But six girlfriends in three years – it means you hunt love like an animal its prey, you want it but don't find the one as they say.'
'Maybe Martha is it.' John shrugged.
'You say 'maybe' because you do not believe in it.'
John first wanted to answer, but then began to think, and frowned hard under the weight of his thoughts.
'I'll leave you now alone with your mind' she grabbed her heels 'and go to the bathroom to refresh myself. Thank you for the tea, it's the best I've took for ages.' she stood up and gave him a last glance, but saw that he was deep in his thoughts, so left without any other word. And John thought about his relationships, and began to believe her – which maybe was a bad idea.