Chapter Text
Irene Adler. She's now under a witness protection scheme so we'll not be seeing her again. And Sherlock seems fine with that. Of course, he isn't fine with it, not really. But he'll get there.
A Scandal Belgravia was by no means the most thrilling case John had ever reported on his blog. But, Mary Watson was intrigued by it for two reasons. Firstly, her husband’s possible association with the death of a woman whom the majority of the intelligence community had believed to be untouchable and, secondly, his best friends’ more than obvious infatuation with her.
“John?”
John looked up at her from the newspaper he was reading. Their daughter, Ella, was curled up asleep on his chest.
“Yes, love?” He answered. Mary adjusted herself on the sofa so she was leaning forward.
“You and Sherlock knew Irene Adler? You actually met her?” she asked. John gave a hollow laugh before returning to his paper,
“’Knew’ is a bit of a strong word, in my case, at least. But we definitely met her.” He glared at her, narrowing his eyes over the top of the paper, “Didn’t you promise you weren’t gonna read my blog? Why the interest in her, anyway?”
Mary shrugged, “When I was doing some freelance work, I had to tail her for some wealthy novelist who thought his wife was having an affair with her. He wanted me to kill her when it turned out he was right. But then I found out he was screwing her too and decided it wasn’t worth my time.”
“You can say that, again,” John turned the page of the newspaper, “If you ask me, Irene Adler was a lot more trouble than she was worth.”
“What if I asked, Sherlock?” Mary watched John frown and saw that his eyes were no longer moving as he read the words on the page, “Come on, John, tell me what happened?” she pouted her bottom lip at her husband. John looked at her for a moment, chuckled and sighed. Closing the paper and taking off his glasses, he adjusted Ella cautiously in his arms so he could lean slightly forward.
“Well,” he said, carefully, “Do not tell Sherlock I told you. I mean it, don’t mention her to him but, in short,” John puffed air out of his cheeks, “he fell for her.”
“You’re kidding-?”
“At least, I think he did- It was strange, I’d never- I mean, you know him, Mary, he’s like a well-oiled machine. Not a lot can throw a spanner in those works-"
“I can think of one thing.” Mary joked, staring pointedly at her husband. John laughed,
“No.” John said, “Not like this. She really got to him,” he paused “From the get go. I mean, the plan was a synch, really. Sherlock, disguised as a priest, would pretend to be injured. She’d let us in. Then, while she was distracted with him, I’d set off the fire alarm, he’d use that to steal the phone and that should’ve been the knighthood in the bag.”
Mary frowned at him,
“Oh,” John noticed her confusion, “We were sent in there to get her camera phone by the government. Apparently, Miss Adler had taken some photos of herself and some female royal of a,” John bunged on a posh accent, “‘compromising nature’ and she wasn’t giving them up – Wasn’t doing anything with them, really. She just seemed to get off on the influence.”
Mary, despite herself, felt a twinge of admiration for the Woman.
“So, what happened?” she asked. John suddenly looked like he was about to laugh,
“She was ready for us – Well, ready for him.” Mary tapped her fingers on her knee impatiently as she waited for John to continue, “I went to get a first aid kit and, when I got back to where Sherlock was in her living room. I saw him just,” he paused, his eyes glazed over for a minute, “sitting there and Irene Adler was standing over him, the dog collar of his priest disguise between her teeth and she was absolutely and completely naked.”
Mary felt her jaw drop,
“What-? She was-? And he was just-?”
John nodded, a cheeky smile twitching the corner of his lips as he kept talking, “Ever seen Sherlock stutter?”
Mary scoffed at him, “Have you met him?”
“Irene Adler indirectly called him sexy and I swear to god the only way I can describe the noise that came out of his mouth was a kind of verbal keyboard smash.”
Mary clapped her hand over her mouth, not wanting her sudden outburst of giggles to disturb their slumbering baby daughter resting on John’s chest, “All this while she was naked?” she asked.
“No. Sherlock lent her his coat.”
Mary gave a mock gasp, though, she was a little surprised, “Sherlock Holmes lent another human being one of his precious coats? This truly is a scandal!” she exclaimed. John burst out in a roar of laughter that he stifled almost instantly when Ella began to stir. Speaking softly, he responded,
“Like I said, I’d never seen him like this with anyone, Mary. He’d known her for five minutes and he,” John scrunched up his nose, “flirted? I think that’s the word…”
“Oh my god what was that like?” she asked. John rolled his eyes at her,
“Like standing between two big bloody egotistical black holes that were each trying to swallow the other up,”
Mary sniggered, crinkling her nose, “Sounds intense.” she said. John shook his head at her,
“You have no idea, it was ridiculous. Anyway, next thing these Americans come in waving their guns around threatening to kill me unless Sherlock opens the safe he found behind the mirror in her living room. It had a six digit code and, as far as I could tell, he didn’t know it at first.” John paused to adjust Ella in his arms so that he was cradling her before he continued,
“But then, it was odd he sort of,” John pursed his lips, his brow furrowed, “looked at her and he did know it. I found out later that the code was her measurements-”
“Stop. Her measurements? He knew her measurements from looking at her naked once?”
John nodded, grinning ever so slightly.
“Well, I suppose he’s always had an eye for detail.” Mary mused, chuckling.
“So, turns out it’s a booby trap, right? The safe had a loaded gun that triggered when you opened the door. Sherlock used it to take out one of the guys. Miss Adler and I dealt with the other two pretty quickly. I had to admit I was impressed with her skill though, not nearly as impressed as Sherlock.”
“Oh?”
“I caught him, just for a second, looking at her before she took out this American thug.” John mused.
“And?” Mary poked. John exhaled.
“He was a goner, Mary. She had him. Even if he didn’t know it or didn’t want to know it. He looked at her like he knew he was never going to stop looking at her. Like her existence in that moment was more fascinating to him than any case he would ever take.”
Mary smirked at him, “I do love it when you get all poetic, darling.” she teased. John grinned at his wife,
“Thank you, Mrs Watson.” Ella made a noise in John’s arms. Both of them watched her for a few minutes but she still seemed to be fast asleep.
“What happened, then?” Mary whispered.
“I don’t really know.” John’s voice was strained for a moment as he remembered, “I went to check the back door and when I came back Irene Adler had her camera-phone, Sherlock was on the floor convulsing and she jumped out the window, still wearing nothing but his coat.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah, he was a bit of a mess after that. I never told him, but the whole time he was under the influence of whatever narcotic she gave him, he just kept saying her name.”
“Really?” said Mary, eyes wide.
“Really.” John echoed.
“Geeze, talk about first impressions.” sighed Mary. John guffawed at her comment before continuing,
“Not a lot happened after that. Not for a while, at least. Although there was-” John started sniggering, “I dunno, he might still have it, actually.” John mused.
“What?” Mary asked, “What is it?” It was a few moments before John could rein in his giggling enough to answer,
“Alright, so Sherlock’s phone would’ve been in his coat when he gave it to her.”
“Probably.” Mary agreed, raising her eyebrow.
“And you know how you can personalize certain people’s ringtones in your phone?”
“Yes?” Mary said, slowly.
“Well,” John sniggered, “she took the ‘personal’ part of personalize to a whole new level.”
Mary shook her head at him, frowning, “John, what-?”
“Mary, she was a dominatrix, right? Think about it, what’s the most embarrassing thing you could ever put as someone’s text alert? Sherlock’s text alert.” John’s cheeky grin crinkled the corners of his eyes as he watched her think. After a moment, maybe two, a truly ridiculous notion flickered across Mary’s mind,
“No.” she whispered incredulously, “It wasn’t her orgas-” John nodded,
“The funniest thing was that he never changed it! He could have but he didn’t. Irene Adler text him quite a lot and it went off at the Christmas party! Lestrade, Molly and Mrs Hudson were all there-!” John gasped, “The way he blushed every time, it was just-!” This time, John was unable to control his sniggers. Mary tossed back her head, giggling, bringing her hands up to cover her mouth. But, it was too late. Her's and John’s combined hysterics had woken baby Ella. The squeaks of her sobs mixing in with their fading laughter.
“Here give, her to me.” Mary crossed the room to John’s chair. He stood up, carefully lifting Ella and placing her into Mary’s arms. Both of them cooing and shushing her in an attempt to calm her down. Mary bounced her gently on the spot.
“Shhhhhh darling, it’s okay.” Mary chanted, smiling down at the sobbing Ella in her arms. Out of the corner of her eye she saw John smile, almost dazedly as he watched them, before he leaned forward and kissed the top of her head. Mary chuckled at him, continuing to soothe Ella, who was beginning to fall back to sleep in her arms.
“Then, what?” she whispered as John sat back down in his chair. He scratched his head,
“Well,” John propped his face on his hand, leaning on his elbow, “she died.” But there was something about the way he said ‘died’ that made Mary cock her head sideways.
“How was he?”
“Oh,” John groaned, “Unbearable, as usual.” John’s chuckle was hollow, “He seemed broken, Mary. Almost empty. When I met Sherlock he told me he was married to his work. I mean, you’ve seen it! He throws himself, head, heart and soul into every case. He pretends to be detached but he isn’t. But when she died,” John looked away from Mary for a minute, “he was detached. From everything. He hardly took another case. She left him the camera-phone, he hardly spoke, bar from muttering about that phone and the bloody passcode that he couldn’t figure out. Hardly did anything other than play his violin and obsess over it for ages, it was…” John trailed off. Mary felt her stomach twinge,
“Poor Sherlock.” She thought aloud.
“Yep” John agreed, “Though, it was even worse when he found out she was actually alive.”
“She was what?”
“Mmmm hmmm” John nodded, “she set up a meeting with me. I thought it was Mycroft, but then-” he paused, shaking his head.
Mary frowned, “What did she say?” she asked. John chuckled benignly,
“She wanted to get the phone back,” he scratched his head, “and to talk about Sherlock. I, more or less, told her everything I just told you. Practically begged her to tell him that she was alive.” John sighed, “But, as it turned out, I didn’t need to because he’d followed me there.”
Mary sat down, still cradling Ella in her arms and shaking her head at John, “I would’ve been absolutely livid, if I was him.” She said.
“Oh, he was terrifying. When I got back home as it turned out, the aforementioned American thugs had come to our flat to look for the phone. Taking Mrs Hudson hostage in the process, by the looks. But by the time I got there Sherlock had one of them beaten and tied to a chair.” At his words Mary’s jaw dropped,
“What did he do?”
John actually laughed, “He threw him out the window.”
“Gosh, he was pissed off, wasn’t he?”
John nodded, “Yeah,” he said thoughtfully, “But underneath all that anger, I could tell he was pleased she wasn’t dead. I wondered afterwards whether or not part of his anger was toward himself for being happy she was alive…” John broke off, “But like I said, he never talked about her, always found a way to avoid it so-” John shrugged. Mary waited for him to continue,
“Then, one day, we come home and found her asleep in Sherlock’s bed.” John was grinning cheekily at the memory. Mary raised her eyebrows,
“I bet Sherlock was pleased.” she said.
“Oh, he was over the moon, Mary. Bounced around her like a puppy. I hadn’t seen him that lively in months. It was a bit annoying, really. Considering everything she put him through.” He grumbled, “There were moments there where he was so engrossed in her presence, you could’ve sworn I was a bloody pile of bricks! It was funny, though, the way she handled him, almost scary. Never seen anyone do that. It was like they were each trying out do the other-”
“In what exactly?” frowned Mary. John puffed air from his cheeks,
“Everything, anything? Each other? Like I said, they like were two egotistical black holes that seemed to be having a contest over who could be the worst at pretending they were the least interested in the other. The tension was ridiculous. I left ‘em alone and went out for a bit.”
Mary’s eyes widened, “Wait, do you think they-?” Mary stared at him pointedly for a minute.
John frowned,“What-? You mean-? Nah!”
Mary scowled at him, “After everything you’ve just said you really don’t think they would have? Come on, John!”
“Even if he wanted to, Mary, I know he wouldn’t. Sherlock doesn’t let himself feel that kinda stuff. He can’t. He thinks it gets in the way of his brain work.” John rolled his eyes, “Though, he probably had the best chance of doing it with her.” He muttered.
“Must be awful,” Mary wondered aloud, “To constantly feel you have to suppress your emotions like that.”
“It’s not easy for him, no.” John said, “But he tries his best to make it look like that.” They sat in silence for a few moments.
“How long did she stay with him, anyway?” Mary asked.
“Not long, actually. I got a call from Mrs Hudson around 5 hours later that Sherlock had been taken away by some government suits. I asked if anyone was with him when he left but she said there was no one. But when I got back to Baker Street, they were both gone.”
Mary blinked at him, “I don’t really know much after that.” John continued, rubbing the back of his neck, “Sherlock came home early hours of the morning. He looked awful. Destroyed, even. I asked him where Irene Adler was and he just said, 'she wasn’t a concern and that Mycroft had her in custody.' I knew that meant they’d cracked the phone. Sherlock told me in the end it was just some random numbers. I had a feeling he was lying, though, I didn’t know why he would. He went back into heartbreak mode for a bit. Sometimes disappearing for days at a time. Then, one day, Mycroft came round and told me she’d been kidnapped and beheaded by some terrorist group in Karachi. We agreed to tell Sherlock she’d gotten into a witness protection scheme in the US.”
Mary raised an eyebrow at him, “And he believed that?”
“Yeah. Or he wanted to. Either way he didn’t question it. He was calmer about it than I expected, come to think of it.”
Mary was frowning at him, but he seemed to be lost in thought, “You know, I don’t know what you could say about Sherlock’s heart.” He seemed to be answering a question Mary hadn’t asked, “But he kept that phone. Sherlock, to this day, has never kept anything from any of his cases but he specifically asked for Irene Adler’s camera-phone.” John folded his arms, “He probably loved her, in his own way. I think she loved him, judging from the way she spoke about him. But I don’t know-” he rubbed his eyes, “Doesn’t matter though now, does it? I mean, she’s dead.” John seemed finished.
Mary got up and walked over to the cot they’d put for Ella in the middle of the living room and lowered her into it before turning to face her husband, folding her arms,
“And you believe that?” she asked.
“Believe what?”
“That she’s dead.”
“Well, yeah-” John frowned.
Mary chuckled at him, “Have you noticed something about your best friend, love? People don’t really tend to actually die around him. Including him.”
“That’s not funny.” John said, thinking about Moriarty’s telecast.
“Of course it isn't.” Mary said, seriously, but she was smiling, “But Sherlock knows when we’ve changed our laundry detergent and you’re telling me he couldn’t tell you were lying about Irene Adler?”
“He didn’t-”
“A man who faked his own death to keep you safe falls for a woman who also faked her own death in the time you knew her.” Mary said matter of factly. There was a long pause while John thought this over,
“What-? You reckon he saved her, somehow?” John said, raising a skeptical eyebrow.
“You said it yourself! He was away for days at a time! And, he was oddly calm when you told him he couldn’t see her again.”
John stood up, “Mary, he can hardly say her name and you’re telling me he flew a thousand miles, infiltrated a dangerous bloody terrorist cell alone and rescued her, all without me noticing?”
Mary scoffed at him again, “It’s Sherlock, John. He murdered Magnussen for you- for me- do you really think he isn’t capable of everything you just said? You’re his best friend. You know him better than anyone. You saw him with her. Can you honestly stand here and tell me that what you just said isn’t possible?”
John stared at her for a long moment. Disbelief etched into the crinkles of his frown, “No.”
Mary grinned.
“I mean, no it isn’t possible!” He shouted.
Mary threw her hands up in defeat, “Okay, fine!”
“He wouldn’t say even if he had, love.”
Mary’s eyes widened. John took a step back,
“No-no! I am not asking him about her. He’s on edge enough as it is and he won’t say anything anyway.”
Mary was grinning, “10 quid.”
“What?” John frowned,
“10 quid she’s alive and that he saved her. If he says nothing I’ll give you 20 quid.”
John folded his arms, “You seem very confident he’ll talk, Mrs Watson.” He teased.
Mary shrugged, “Like you said. He’s on edge. He might want to talk to someone about her. Besides, if he tells anyone, it’ll just be you.”
John was shaking his head. But she stared her husband down until, “Fine!” John unfolded his arms and pointed at her, “But on the impossiblility, he talks and you turn out to be right, I’ll give you 50 quid!” he booped her nose.
“Excellent! I need a new pair of jeans.” Mary laughed as John was pulling on his coat.
“And, if he punches me in the face, I want loads of pity and you have to take care of Ella when she wakes up crying at 3am for the next week.”
Mary smirked at him, “Alright, fine." she said, "But we both know you’ll get her anyway, you worry wart.”
“Hey, I prefer vigilant.”
“Of course, darling.”
John leaned down, placing the tips of his fingers under her chin to tilt her head up for a swift kiss. Before pulling away from her and heading towards the front door.
“Good luck! Have fun!” Mary chorused after him. John smiled and rolled his eyes. Giving Mary a wave as he got into the car. But as he headed towards Baker Street, John Watson couldn’t get rid of the nagging sensation in the pit of his stomach. Knowing that loosing 50 quid was certainly not what he would be worried about, if Mary turned out to be right about his best friend and the Woman.