Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

There’s a huge distinction between lilacs and purples, and it is important to know which is which – or so Sherlock convinces himself to believe.

221B has been filled with clutter, or at least more clutter than usual, ever since the preparations for John and Mary’s wedding started. He couldn’t hide his nervousness, despite trying to be his level-headed self, waiting for the event to happen making him uneasy.

The obvious thing that occurred in his mind is the disturbing sentimentality that comes along his camaraderie with John Watson. To be fair, it is quite manageable considering the fact that having Mary in his life now is one to be grateful for. In fact, if he believed in a higher power, he would probably consider it a blessing.

“Are you looking up bridesmaid dresses?” Mary asked, taking him by surprise as she popped up behind him.

He abruptly closed his laptop, playing it cool, and simply replied, “Just doing my research.”

Mary giggled, rolling her eyes playfully at him. In her hands were a bunch of invitations.

“Anyone else you’d like to include, Sherlock? Probably a date? John mentioned a crazy mad one from before.” she asked teasingly. Behind her, John gave a not-so-subtle scoff.

Mary raised her eyebrow and turned to face her soon-to-be husband. “Her name’s Irene Adler, right John?”

John pursed his lips, probably remembering the lie Mycroft told him. The Woman was supposed to be dead, right?

“Ah, yes. Erm…” John simply muttered. “Probably not the best idea to invite her to our wedding.”

Mary looked amused. “Why not? Sherlock doesn’t seem to mind.”

Sherlock looked at Mary with a protesting expression. “I didn’t–”

“Ooooh! I think I struck a nerve here!” Mary quipped delightfully, resting her chin on her fingers. “Now, I really want to invite her.”

John sighed. “That bloody woman is a walking chaos. Talk about…”

Sherlock found himself irritated, John’s words sounding muddled against his ears. He finds his patience more tolerating when it comes to John and Mary, but this time, the doctor’s words against The Woman gave his head a buzz. A similar feeling occurred years ago, when John was deliberately turning on the charm, or what people call tried to flirt, with Irene Adler back when all three of them first met.

And so, he couldn’t quite stop his own tongue at spilling the following words: “If I remember correctly, you didn’t initially think she was a chaotic woman. She was actually your type before she deliberately turned you down.”

John stopped talking, brows knitting together in confusion.

“Oh, this is the first time I am hearing about this.” Mary grinned, nodding at Sherlock to continue.

Sherlock sighed. “No, I–”

John, still obviously irritated, leaned towards their direction. “I want to hear about this as well. What in the world are you talking about?”

The detective realised that John must have forgotten about the incident already, but even with the protests of his logical self, his mouth started to recount the story.

“When we asked her about the case of the hiker and the backfire, and how she knew about it, she said she knew what one of the policemen… liked.” Sherlock almost spat the word. “And so you immediately offered, or more appropriately, tried to offer that you are not just a policeman, but a former soldier, considering that you asked her if she likes policemen with a leaning stance and a lingering stare, suggesting pride, attraction, and interest. Not to mention the small smile you have as you asked the question, suggesting that you did, in fact, have the soldier card up your sleeve. I’m assuming that her dismissing your advances might have caused your… hostility towards her.”

To his surprise, as soon as he ended, John and Mary are both smiling knowingly.

“So, I was right. You were jealous that’s why you tried to impress her.” John replied, smirking. The doctor turned to his fiancee, and added, “Sherlock forgot to mention that to ‘dismiss’ me, Irene Adler’s exact words were ‘I like detectives, and detective stories. Brainy is the new sexy.’ So now you probably know why Sherlock’s practically smitten with her.”

Mary’s smile grew wider, shrugging. “To be fair, you really got dumped.”

“I wasn’t… I’m not… smitten… with her.” Sherlock muttered through his teeth.

“Whatever you say, dear.” Mary replied, piling up the invitations she was holding.

And if Sherlock wasn’t mistaken, she may have deliberately left a blank one just above the drawer where he kept the Vertu.

***

“Sherlock, dear, can you come here for a moment?” Mary called from the top of the stairs, as he and John were discussing something with Lestrade by the doorway. The detective gave her a nod and followed.

“What is it?” he asked casually, oblivious of what is about to happen.

There was something about Mary’s smile that made his senses tingle, heart thrumming as she gestured him to sit. His brow raised in curiosity when she showed him his own mobile phone.

“You shouldn’t leave your phone lying around, especially when you have a very naughty text alert.” she teased.

It was evident that surprise was spread across his face, Mary simply enjoying the moment. Then she read, “Pregnant lady, bronze babies, cloaked man, and Kafka… Guess where I am? IA. IA— I wonder who this is?”

So Irene is in Prague. Safe. Good to know. Still, he wouldn’t say that out loud. Not when the cat’s out of the bag.

Sherlock walked over to Mary, without making eye contact, and asked for his phone with an extended hand. She willingly gave it back to him, crossing her legs as if waiting for an explanation.

“Oh please, I didn’t do it on purpose! It was displayed on your screen, inviting prying eyes. I didn’t even have to crack your passcode. But I tried it and it was quite easy.” she smugly said, grinning at him.

“Is it now?” he replied, deadpan, missing a point.

“John told me she was dead, and that you didn’t know because Mycroft wanted to keep it a secret. But you knew they were lying because you saved her, didn’t you?” Mary asked curiously, but Sherlock knew she already had it all figured out.

“I think the answer to that is quite… obvious.” Sherlock replied. He noticed Mary’s questioning look that made him roll his eyes.

“What?”

Mary was obviously trying to restrain herself from smiling. “You still see each other.”

Sherlock sighed. “I don’t understand why you’ve taken intere–”

“When are you going to text her back?” she asked again, grinning.

“I don’t.”

“Stop fibbing.”

“I’m not.”

“I know when you’re fibbing.”

Sherlock can’t help but run his fingers through his hair, agitated. Why is Mary pressing on about her?

“One. Zero. One. Three.” Mary mused, playfully rocking back and forth on her seat.

The detective was suddenly back to being attentive, unsure of what he’s heard. Mary raised her eyebrows at him. “You seem surprised.”

“How did you–?” Sherlock started, but he was interrupted by John entering the flat.

***

Sherlock took every opportunity to talk to Mary about the matter at hand, but she dismisses him immediately as soon as he rejects her request to talk about Irene Adler.

Days passed, then weeks, and every time he’s on his phone, she keeps on whispering, “Make sure you have it on vibrate.” accompanied by a cheeky wink.

But it was when John went to fix some papers for their clinic that he found himself alone again with Mary’s inquiring eyes.

“Mary, please, it’s a simple question.” Sherlock hissed.

“So was mine. I just wanted to know… how things are.” Mary smiled.

“The passcode…”

“…is the date when you saved her from that terrorist cell. October 13, yes?” she said, an air of pride in her voice.

“Yes.” Sherlock replied shortly.

“And… we’ll just leave it at that?” Mary groaned.

“It’s just a passcode.” he asserted unconvincingly.

Mary theatrically tapped her pointer finger near her lips as if to exaggerate that she was thinking. “John told me that, to Mycroft’s hesitance in telling the story if I might add, the only reason why you beat Irene Adler was because her passcode was your name.”

Sherlock tried to focus on the wall behind Mary instead of directly looking at her. “I didn’t beat her.”

Mary nodded. “Because you went out of your way to save her, thus making you feel like you lost.”

The detective didn’t reply. Instead, he handed Mary his phone.

“What do you want me to do with this?” Mary asked.

“Any observations?” he asked, voice too quiet that it would seem like he was talking to himself.

Mary looked at the phone and her smile grew wider. “iPhone 5. So after all these years, you still backup all her messages, and even her text alert, and put it in whichever phone you’re using. The question is, why?”

Sherlock sighed as Mary handed him the phone back. “Everything I will say is a secret. Our secret.”

“Of course, dear.” Mary replied sincerely.

“I believe John feels very strongly about my relationship with The Woman, so I’d rather he not know.” Sherlock grumbled.

“I don’t think he hates her, really, he just told me that when you thought she died, he was very worried about… your emotional state. And he couldn’t understand you, her, and you and her. Plus, you did say Irene dumped him easily. Maybe it hurt his ego.” she joked.

“Even I don’t understand her… And myself when with her.” Sherlock confessed, not meeting Mary in the eyes.

“Why did you save her?” Mary asked directly, narrowing down the conversation into the most obvious foundation.

Sherlock’s mind reeled, words and expressions flying through his usually above average train of thought.

Mary smiled and reached out to touch his folded hands. “Sherlock, admitting that you feel something for her will not make you a lesser being. I hope you know that.”

“It’s never simple with her.” he sighed. “She’s too clever, too cunning, too dangerous, too inviting, too… just too much everything. And I can’t get her out of my head. It can be irritating at times. Prancing into my Mind Palace even in the middle of cases. And what’s more frustrating is I don’t want to… stop thinking about her, I mean… Oh, will you stop looking so happy? It’s not like I just confessed a murder, or a solution to a decade-long case.”

“But you did speak out your heart. Look, Sherlock, I’m not asking you to try and have what John I and have with her. I know that’s what you’re worried about. I can see that you feel restrained by the idea of ‘settling down with The Woman’ and that’s not what I’m telling you.” Mary explained.

“Then what exactly are you telling me?” Sherlock asked.

“I’m simply letting you know that it’s okay to feel what you’re feeling. Live out the adventure. Play the game. Gamble. Fall.”

Sherlock studied every word that escaped Mary’s lips. “You can be difficult at times, Mary Morstan.”

She grinned. “Made you think, didn’t it?”

For the first time since they started the conversation, Sherlock smiled. “I believe you and her will get along very well.”

Mary’s smile grew. “So you’ll let me meet her?”

The smile on Sherlock’s face disappeared quickly. “No.”

Pouting, she playfully punched him in the arm. “Why not?”

“It’ll be too chaotic.”

“Oh, please! It’ll be fun!” Mary insisted.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “No. And besides, she’s… she’s currently halfway across the world so contain yourself… Last night, she told me she’s in Phuket.”

A scheming glint was evident on Mary’s eyes. “You’ll go, wouldn’t you? Oh, just take me. We won’t take long.”

“Your wedding is in a week.”

“John wouldn’t know! We’ll plan it out. We can do it right now!”

Sherlock pinched the bridge of his nose, a sudden realisation hitting him. “Wait, you still haven’t answered my question.”

“What question?” Mary asked.

“The passcode. How did you know?”

Mary chuckled, fumbling with her phone before giving a reply. “John said that you found out she wasn’t really dead around New Year. Then met her again, here, 6 months later. She stayed for a day, had you crack the code, then basically causing chaos and you saving the day within those 24 hours.

Then John said Mycroft went to meet him during the wettest season of the year, so I assumed mid-November to December, and the claim was that Irene Adler was captured and ‘killed’ in Karachi a couple of months before that. Can be September or October but I chose the latter because the chances are slightly higher.

After that I figured it was a weekend, considering that John was admittedly on a dating spree during weekends at the time, giving you enough opportunity to sneak out and have your little escapade.”

“I actually asked John to gather evidence for a triple murder in Warwick and even advised that he stayed there overnight in case I need anything else. He seemed pleased with the idea.” Sherlock recalled. “Still, great deduction.”

Mary looked pleased. “Can’t always be too accurate.”

Sherlock nodded in agreement. And just when he thought the conversation has come to a close, Mary’s face lit up once more as she looked up to him.

The detective’s eyes narrowed as he tried to read into Mary’s expression, but she left him no more time to guess as she showed him her phone screen.

“Pack your bags, Sherlock. We’re going to Thailand.”

Chapter Text

There was no point in arguing.

Sherlock found himself staring out an airplane window, bound for almost a twelve-hour trip to Phuket. Beside him, Mary was reading Restless by William Boyd, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose to see under the passengers’ designated reading light.

The detective could recall the controlled protests of John when Mary called to asked that before the wedding, it’ll be best to pay Harry a visit and stay the night. Mary passed it off as a weird, cleansing and soul-healing tradition thing that Sherlock found quite absurd, and yet his friend had bought it and agreed.

Giving them at least two days to spare, it simply felt like an exhausting excursion, or, as Mary puts it, her preferred pre-wedding celebration in place of a bridal shower.

Still, he could feel his entire body tingling, a disturbing sense of nervousness and excitement that sends an aching sensation at the pit of his stomach. Excusing himself from his seat, he headed to the loo to give his face a quick wash, and to replenish the nicotine patches he has in his arm since the night before. Tapping three new ones firmly over his skin, he headed back, trying hard not to picture Irene Adler’s smirk when he explains why he and Mary decided to pay a visit.

Taking off his coat and scarf as the heat of the tropics hit him, Sherlock looked over to Mary’s grinning face with a sigh.

“Well, go on. Give her a call.” Mary instructed, plainly going by her tone that it was an immediate order.

Sherlock rolled his eyes, knowing that there was nothing more that he could do. He took out his phone and pressed on Irene’s number, hoping that she was still in the country and that his silent anticipation was not wasted.

He knows that it was plain stupid for him to agree to this trip without letting Irene know firsthand that he was flying over, but all rationality was thrown to the side as he realised he would need time to prepare what is to be said regarding the matter.

After several rings and his patience almost at the brink of expiring, Irene Adler finally answered.

“I’m assuming that you’re calling to let me know you have arrived. I had arranged for someone to pick you and Mary up and bring you to my hotel. He should be carrying a sign. Code names in place, as usual.” Irene simply said before ending the call, and Sherlock was sure she had a smile playing on her lips as she did.

He looked aside to Mary, whose eyes were scanning the room as if she was in sync with Irene said, and her eyes stopped at a kind-looking man holding up a sign saying William Scott and Maria Watson.

“Come now, dear. There’s our ride.” Mary mused casually, tugging on the bewildered detective.

“For Ms. Norton.” Mary greeted, and the driver nodded, gladly assisting them with their luggage.

The soon-to-be Mrs. Watson rolled her eyes playfully at Sherlock’s continuous glare, and simply gestured that they should start occupying the backseat of the car.

When the wheels started rolling, Sherlock couldn’t help but cuss under his breath.

“Something the matter, dear?” Mary asked teasingly, tapping Sherlock on the arm.

“When did both of you have the time to plan this? You didn’t even tell me you knew her already!” Sherlock hissed.

“Oh, calm down, will you? I got her number from your easily-crackable phone, told her I was John’s fiancee, that I knew she was alive, and that you wouldn’t talk much about your relationship, making me all the more curious to meet her. She was delighted and slightly intrigued by the situation that she obliged. To be fair, Sherlock, I like her already.” Mary proclaimed, raising her eyebrows at the detective as if to say well, what would you expect.

They arrived at Phulay Bay, the hotel resort having the delightful view of the beach, and was escorted by the bellhop to one of the suites.

Sherlock could feel his fingers twitching for an unknown reason, his mind trying hard to keep the current thoughts whirling in his mind under control.

When the door opened, he was greeted by her, The Woman, whose skin is slightly pink than pale from the sun, wearing a sheer black cover up and a bikini of the same colour underneath. It was lost for a moment that Irene had her eyes on Mary, for the detective was still in the midst of assessing whether there had been any changes in her measurements.

“You’ve lost weight.” Sherlock mentioned, whether it was intentional or not, even he himself was unsure. He could see Mary’s amused look from his periphery, obviously holding back a smile.

“Is that the proper way to introduce me to your friend?” Irene mused, smirking.

“I take it you already got acquainted before we got here.” Sherlock simply replied.

“And seeing that he really won’t introduce us, hi, I’m Mary Morstan, John’s fiancee.” Mary interjected, reaching a hand out to Irene, which The Woman took.

“Pleasure. I’m Irene Adler… Sherlock’s… friend.” Irene greeted with a smile, the last word sounding more like a teasing purr. “Would you like some tea?”

Sherlock can’t help but roll his eyes, which made both women laugh.

“He is quite a handful, isn’t he?” Irene mused.

“Yes, he is… And yes, to the tea, I mean.” Mary replied with a grin, helping herself to one of the chairs. “So tell me, Irene, why is it that my soon-to-be husband thinks your dead and you seem… well, very much alive?”

Mary then nodded towards Sherlock. “Apart from the obvious explanation.”

Irene eyed Sherlock upon hearing the new information, but the detective averted his eyes. She gave a quick call to room service for the tea before addressing Mary.

“Well, now. I wasn’t aware that the good Doctor Watson doesn’t know. But it’s not much of a surprise that he didn’t tell him. Your fiance can be a little jealous at times, if I recall.” Irene teased, sitting by the bed with her legs crossed.

“Sherlock can be, too. They have some attachment issues, but they’re both too manly to admit it. But Sherlock likes me too much to even be jealous of me, right dear?” Mary added, to which Sherlock gave a groan.

“We made a 12-hour trip just to make fun of me, how wonderful.” he said flatly, finding himself a seat.

Mary giggled. “If my research serves me right, London to Karachi takes about 8 hours, plus the transfers. Now, there are no terrorists to hack with a mighty sword, but this is still very exciting.”

Irene was trying very hard to wipe the smile of her face. Sherlock, on the other hand, glared at The Woman.

“What else did you tell her?” Sherlock hissed.

Irene rolled her eyes. “Don’t worry. I spared all the passionate details that happened AFTER we got rid of your bloodstained clothes.”

Mary’s eyes widened, her lips forming an amused ‘O’ as she heard what Irene has to say. “You know what? I really don’t mind you telling me.”

Sherlock turned to shot his glare at Mary, but she simply gave him a cheeky smile. To the detective’s relief, room service arrived with the tea, but the feeling was easily replaced with annoyance when he saw the bellhop eyeing Irene.

He stood up, cutting in between Irene and the bellhop as he handed him a bill, sending the service man away with a clipped “Thank you for your service.”

Mary had her chin propped on her fingers as she watched the scene, giving Irene a small smile. Sherlock must’ve caught himself and had been aware once more of Mary’s amused look that he hurried back to his seat moodily, his expression enough to convey “Not a word”.

Irene handed each of them a cup and took her own, claiming their previous positions.

“So tell me, Mary, what is it about me that piqued your interest?” Irene inquired as she took as sip.

Sherlock was simply watching, tapping his finger on the rim of the cup, knowing that wherever the conversation will go, he will not have control over it. The very reason why he found himself surprised when Mary gave him the liberty to explain the situation.

“I think it’s best if it comes from Sherlock. That’ll be fair considering I dragged him here almost forcefully.” Mary quipped.

“Almost forcefully?” Sherlock raised.

“Yes, dear. Almost. Because truth be told, I honestly think you would’ve taken this trip even without me to ease your nerves before the wedding.” Mary said as-a-matter-of-factly, to which Sherlock had nothing to reply. He figured that fibbing against these two women only leads to embarrassing himself.

“Well?” Irene cut in, raising her eyebrows at Sherlock.

As soon as their eyes locked in, Sherlock could almost feel Mary disappearing. It was a typical case with The Woman that he wasn’t even surprised.

“I forgot to put my phone on vibrate and she heard your specialised text alert. The series of events that followed are as you expect them to be.” Sherlock explained, almost biting his tongue as he realised what he just said.

“Text alert? You don’t mean… Oh my goodness, Sherlock. You still haven’t changed it?” Irene was grinning now, her body unconsciously leaning towards his direction.

“Can’t be bothered.” Sherlock replied trying to sound nonchalant about the matter.

“Oh, please! You did bother a lot considering that you obviously went through a lot of phones from when you met.” Mary teased, making Irene’s smile grow wider.

“Is this sentiment, Mr. Holmes?” Irene purred.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Both of you are having so much fun, aren’t you?”

Irene nodded. “It can’t be helped.”

“The usual, Sherlock?” Irene asked as if on habit, looking up the dessert menu as they were finishing their dinner.

“Yes.” Sherlock replied, watching her.

He was aware that he was constantly watching Irene, and also that Mary was observing him in amusement. But after a couple of hours, Sherlock didn’t even bother to stop himself from habits he developed when around The Woman. He believes that Mary is smart enough to draw her own conclusions and that most likely, she will validate it with him as soon as they are alone.

“You’ve been here before, too?” Mary asked, surprised.

“I believe it was in another hotel.” Sherlock simply replied.

“The other hotel where we’re both banned because Sherlock insulted the manager.” Irene added.

“He was gawking at her like a vulture.” the detective replied in defense, his voice almost too quiet for everyone else to hear. “Not to mention the idiotic words that came out of his mouth.”

Mary placed her fork down and leaned in, much more interested. “Awww, that’s sweet.”

“Oh, it gets better.” Sherlock breathed.

“How so?” Mary’s eyebrows raised.

“I gave the guy a good punch.” Irene announced before continuing with a joke. “Sherlock was about to get hit, but I couldn’t get to have those beautiful cheekbones cut so I was the one who got physical.”

“She dealt with a broken hand after.” Sherlock sounded nostalgic as he said the words, and as he judged by Mary’s expression, it was obvious that she read into his meaning.

“I enjoyed the nursing I got, to be honest.” says Irene, eyeing Sherlock.

Mary smiled. “Now, it makes me quite curious how Sherlock slips in and out of Baker Street. None of us honestly suspects it.”

“Dear Martha knows.” Irene replied casually. Sherlock’s eyebrows suddenly knit, surprised that he’s hearing about the information for the first time.

“Mrs. Hudson?!” Sherlock exclaimed.

“Yes, dear. That lovely woman has been covering up for you. For someone who claims to be smart, you can be naive at times. How do you imagine your brother not being able to check in your flat when you’ve gone silent for a couple of days or so?” Irene confirmed incredulously.

“When did you even meet Mrs. Hudson?” Mary asked.

“A couple of years ago when she went up to complain about how much noise her ceiling was making the night before, and found me in Sherlock’s bedroom. We had tea before Sherlock and John came home from a case. She was lovely to talk to.” Irene confessed, smiling.

Sherlock sighed. “Now I know why she insisted on keeping some of her old clothes under the bed.”

Mary looked confused. “And that means…?”

Irene laughed, sipping on some champagne before replying. “Let’s just say that when Martha found me, my dress was… not wearable anymore. Kind of her to lend me some of her old clothes.”

“Scandalous.” Mary commented with a smile, taking a sip of wine.

“You are such a joy to talk to. It’s quite disappointing that you can’t be at the wedding.” Mary sighed.

“We’ll still have time to catch up in the future… just without your husband knowing.” Irene replied with a smirk, which made Mary grin.

Mary was eyeing Sherlock, the detective being silent the entire time they were walking back to their rooms. She was about to make a comment when there was a sudden shift in the way Sherlock was standing, clearing his throat as he was about to make his proposal.

“We’re leaving early tomorrow morning. Best to have some rest.” he commented, not meeting any of the women’s eyes.

“Ah, yes. I should leave you, then. Good night, Mary, Sherlock.” Irene acknowledged, her voice having a clipped edge to it.

Mary was about to chide in when Sherlock added, “I’ll be right back, Mary. I’ll just walk Miss Adler to her room.”

The other woman smiled at Irene, then to Sherlock, giving a nod and an expression of pure expectation and amusement. “That’s a brilliant idea. Good night, Irene.”

The Woman nodded in acknowledgement.

As Mary closed the door, Sherlock, whose eyes are not meeting Irene’s, muttered, “Shall we?”

The tension was felt at their every step, and Sherlock could feel his own chest thrumming as they drew close to Irene’s suite. He wanted to say something to her, but was unsure what, for as usual he was unaware how she felt about this sudden visit.

He could feel his frustration growing as he imagined every tick of the clock drawing close to when he has to say goodbye to her once more and greet his life back in London, but what else is to expect? He was used to feeling this way every time he finds himself alone with The Woman.

He was woken from his reverie at the sound of Irene’s keycard unlocking the door, The Woman looking at his somber expression.

“Would you like to come in?” she asked, hand already reaching for the pins on her hair.

He wanted to say no – to retain a sense of control as Mary was expecting him to come back – but just like all of their past escapades, he found himself succumbing to his impulses.

“Yes.” he muttered, voice almost just to himself.

He watched as Irene walked over to her bed, continuously taking the pins off her hair and letting them fall loose on her shoulders. Taking the seat opposite her, he folded his fingers together, waiting if she has anything to say.

“She’s lovely. I can see why you like her.” he heard her as she reached for a hairbrush and started combing her dark locks.

Sherlock nodded. “She helped me reconcile with John. Plus, she’s incredibly brilliant.”

“I can tell.” Irene replied. “But was it really that urgent that you have to fly in here to meet me?”

Carefully choosing his next words, Sherlock said, “She was curious to meet you after a certain incident.”

Irene’s brows knit in confusion. “The one about the text alert?”

“No.” Sherlock’s voice was now quiet, his blue eyes studying Irene’s expression closely. “My passcode.”

“And why would that pique her interest this much?” Irene asked.

Sherlock handed her his phone. “Give it a try.”

Irene looked at him as if he was making such a ridiculous request, but she never backed down in any of their past games, and counted this as one of those. She took the phone with her eyes on him, evident that her mind was calculating the possibilities.

Sherlock simply gave her a nod, as if he read her mind that they were both thinking of that fateful night when she almost brought the nation to its knees. Irene’s eyes narrowed as she came to an epiphany, the words “this is your heart” echoing in her mind.

Being playful as usual, a smile grew on her red lips as she stroked the phone with her finger, punching the numbers slowly. The phone unlocked.

“One. Zero. One. Three.” Irene announced with a smirk, her eyes boring deep into the detective’s. “Karachi.”

Silence passed between them, as if one was carefully thinking their next move. It was then that Sherlock figured that just like the past, it has become tradition to consider every night as their last night.

Drawing in closer, with his eyes never leaving hers as he moved, Sherlock breathed, “Do you think Mary will mind?”

And as expected, Irene met him halfway, her voice a sweet whisper when she replied, “Not at all.”

Once all checked in and settled, everything was in full circle as Sherlock sat on his designated seat in the plane. Noticing Mary’s lack of curiosity as to how he spent the night, he simply said, “Sorry if I kept you waiting last night. Did you wait long?”

To his surprise, Mary replied with a grin, “I went straight to bed after you left, to be honest.”

Sherlock looked at her curiously. “Why?”

Mary rolled her eyes playfully. “I’m not dumb, dear. I’m sure you already know the answer to your question.”