Hello! I wrote this little something-something whilst feeling intense Adlock feels, so there is lots and lots of fluff. So much fluff. I'm not even sorry. :)

The first hint of morning light began to creep onto the walls; a faint, cool breeze blowing through the open window. She shivered slightly, pulling the blanket around her for warmth. It was moments like these that she cherished. Peaceful mornings after a full night's rest were to be savored, and taken complete advantage of in her eyes. Such luxuries had become a rarity in the past six months. Another shiver rippled through her, causing her to unconsciously wiggle closer to the sleeping form beside her.

Irene's eyes flickered open, realizing she was not alone. She was confused for a moment, but as memories from the previous night filled her thoughts, she smiled. She sat up slightly to see the man next to her, taking the time to simply admire the sight before her. Sherlock hadn't changed much since she had last seen him, a part from a few new scars around his torso (most likely from his time being dead), and not to mention a few lovely red marks along his neck (very likely from the night before). She reached out to move a stray black curl from his pale face, taking in his features as she did so. The pale golden light did wonders on his bone structure; his perfectly chiseled cheekbones casting delicious shadows. The Woman smirked, her own words echoing in her mind. 'I could cut myself slapping that face.'

She silently wondered if (and when) she would actually get to test that particular theory.

It was only with great difficulty that she was able to draw her gaze away from Sherlock to look at the clock.

6:37.

That gave her five hours before she needed to leave. She did, after all, have a job to do. Dinner with Sherlock wasn't her main motivation for being here, though she would be lying if she said that wasn't at least one of the reasons. It pained her to have to go, it truly did. The fact that their meetings were so few and far between made her heart ache. In truth, she did not know when the next time they met would be.

It couldn't hurt to spend a few more hours in peace. Her client could wait.

She closed her eyes again, her head nestling on Sherlock's chest. These small displays of sentiment and affection between the two were hidden from the rest of the world. They were only shared in quiet, private moments. No words were ever spoken; none were needed. Everything was said through affectionate touches and lingering eye contact. A small sigh of contentment escaped her lips as she felt an arm snake around her waist, holding her closer.

Yes. Her client could definitely wait.

I hope you enjoyed it! This is my first Sherlock fic and will probably be one of many one-shots.