Irene heard about his death; of course she did. The whole world did. Even if you somehow hadn't heard of Sherlock Holmes before now, you certainly heard when he became a suicide-committing fraud. But that didn't mean that she believed what she heard.

And exactly two days after his reported death, she got the proof that she rather desperately craved – not that she was going to admit to how badly she wanted him to still be alive.

I'm not dead. Let's have dinner. – SH

Name the place. – IA

McDonalds Harlem NY in 1 hr. – SH

He knew that she was in New York – of course he'd figured that out – and was in the same town too now, apparently.

Irene was convinced that this couldn't get any better. But it did.

"I really assumed that you would hate places like this," she said evenly, sliding into the chair across from him at the corner table nearest the exit – the perfect position for surveillance, she noticed appreciatively – exactly an hour later.

"It provides a measure of anonymity that is especially useful when on a mission."

"A mission?" she repeated with raised eyebrows, instantly interested.

If he was supposed to be somewhere on a mission then why was he here, meeting up with her in a greasy fast-food joint?

"The beginnings of one, yes, and I'd like your help."

Ah, there it was. Straight to the point; the same Sherlock she'd met before.

She smiled deviously, asking, "Where do we start?"

One year later

Partners. That's what they were. Colleagues, allies, confederates. Associates, copartners, companions. They were all of those things.

They were more than those things.

Partners. There were so many different definitions of that word, and if you looked at the relationship he now had with Irene from all of its angles, every definition could fit them. Except for one.

Spouse.

That they were not.

In a way they had with time become "the person with whom one cohabitates in a romantic relationship." (That was definition number five.) Circumstances had forced them to live together in countless scores of shoddy hotel rooms over the past year, and within that their attraction to one another had deepened during that time. But where did they go from there? Sherlock still believed that married was a useless display of sentiment – didn't he?

It was a question that had plagued him frequently for the past couple of months, and he didn't know what to do with it. Only… he did too know. Questions were meant to be answered. But what was the answer? Was marriage useless and overly sentimental? That was the question that needed answered. Except he was beginning to think that he already knew the answer – and it was an answer that he'd surprised even himself with.

Maybe marriage wasn't completely useless… at least not for himself and Irene… and now that he'd decided that, what did he do about it?

"You're serious?" Irene asked, eyes wide with happy shock as she sank onto the edge of a hotel room bed in Berlin, Germany – their home for the last two days while they'd been chasing another one of Moriarty's men.

Sherlock nodded. "I am. If you're willing then that's fine. If not then nothing has to change between us. We work well together, and we can continue to do so without the added sentimentality of marrying."

"But I want to marry you!" Irene said, chuckling as she sprang to her feet and threw her arms around him before kissing him fiercely.

Two days later

"Las Vegas, Nevada," Irene nearly laughed as she boarded a departure plane with Sherlock at her heels as she spoke to him. "I can't believe that we just did something that cliché!"

"It's one of the quickest methods of marriage that I could think of, and it's just as valid as a white dress and a church with a man of God. Though… if you'd rather have that, it could be arranged once disposing of Moriarty's network is behind us."

The offer was voiced with a healthy dose of misgiving, but Irene was warmed by the fact that he would be willing to do that for her at all.

She took his hand as they settled into their seats on the plane, declaring, "I want nothing of the sort so long as we're husband and wife."

"And so we are," Sherlock answered, a thread of awe in his voice as he leaned over and – true to Sherlock form – kissed her on the cheek.

One year later

"Back to Baker Street, Sherlock Holmes," Mycroft's voice was a tickle in his ear the moment before the elder Holmes brother unlocked the chains that were keeping Sherlock on his feet.

The younger brother crumpled gracelessly to the floor, mentally cursing the fact that Mycroft got to see him this way. Mycroft didn't seem to care one way or the other, though, dragging Sherlock indelicately to his feet, out of the building, and into the cab of a waiting pile of parts that passed as a truck. Getting into the driver's seat for what Sherlock thought might be the first time in his life, Mycroft drove like a maniac to leave Sherlock's captors behind in the dust. The pain caused by the constant jostling was making Sherlock's vision swim, so he leaned back against the seat, groaning as he closed his eyes and forced himself to envision something pleasant. Irene's face was always his favored choice – as dear to him as John and London, but without the pang of knowing that he didn't have that anymore.

Wait; Irene!

Apparently he'd exclaimed the words aloud, because Mycroft rolled his eyes and said dismissively, "Anthea's picking her up from your hotel room. Don't think that I don't know about your little stoop into sentiment where The Woman is concerned."

"You knowing she's my wife and picking her up are two entirely different things."

When they'd finally driven out of the range of their "friends" and managed to relax, Mycroft glared at him. "Don't tempt me to leave her here."

"I will jump out of this moving vehicle rather than leave another partner behind," Sherlock promised him, entirely serious.

"Thereby getting left behind by your best ride back to London and possibly breaking your back in the process?

"If you made it necessary, yes."

"You really do… love… her, don't you?"

Sherlock pretended not to notice the disdainful surprise in his brother's tone as he answered with certainty, "Yes, I do."

Hopefully you guys liked this. What do you think about another chapter?:)