This is actually a very old idea. One that I had when I first entered the fandom and very much addicted to these two. I kinda fell off the yacht and went to another fandom for a while, and came back as hard as ever after watching season 4. Now I'm back into this addiction, and I knew I just had to write this down once and for all. I hope you enjoy!

It was an illogical phenomenon. Something Sherlock would have laughed at. Something he would have mocked. That was if it wasn't real to him. Apparently, the universe decided to play a joke on him which was completely ridiculous.

Lestrade's latest case for him was disappointing. It had seemed interesting until he saw how dull it was. Shame. John was trailing behind him, complaining that he had exposed the man in front of his family of his wife and his three beautiful daughters (John's words not his). Sherlock scoffed at his words. He told John that the man was a murderer and that was that. Whatever happened beyond the case itself was none of his business.

Not that saying so would stop John Watson from being cross about it. From the time that they've been flatmates to best mates, Sherlock knew the best way to deal with this was to turn his words to white noise. He'd grow tired and stop, while Sherlock wouldn't be as irritated.

His fingers suddenly itched for his violin. He randomly picked a sheet number and played the symphony in his head. Not only did it drown John's complaints, but it also helped his growing irritation. The notes slowly played in his head, the melody relaxing his nerves as he buried himself in his chair.

Then he heard something completely foreign, causing him to stop.

Beethoven?

His eyebrows rose up his forehead as he almost fell of his chair at the voice. Sherlock frowned at the voice. It sounded nothing like his - female and familiar.

Of course.

He had buried it deep inside his Mind Palace, under a wing he never ventured into unless he found the need to which rarely happened. Though he wasn't going to deny the numerous times he was tempted to. He wasn't going to deny that no matter what he did she would always break free of the boundaries he set. She'd walk around his Mind Palace as if she owned the place herself, but he'd try so hard to ignore her dominating presence even though he would fail every single time.

Mind Palace?

His frown deepened. For a moment, it seemed as if she could hear what he thought. Of course, she could hear him.

His surroundings faded into darkness and suddenly found himself in the Great Hall of his Mind Palace, bits and pieces of which slowly constructing itself around him. The sharp clicks of her heels echoed across the hall until it stopped. A shadow loomed just by the corner. A flash of pale skin on black Louboutins appeared. He narrowed his eyes in concentration, preparing himself.

I didn't know you had me in your Mind Palace. I'm flattered.

The picture in his mind froze as if someone had pressed the pause button. What just happened?

Did she just...

Big question marks flashed in front of him. Yet he knew he wasn't wrong. She could hear his thoughts? But how? A frown sat on his face as he tried to eliminate one possible cause after another, his uneasiness growing as the list grew shorter in the span of exactly 2.3 seconds.

And what was his conclusion?

She knew what he was thinking.

It seemed as if it was real. The voice was too clear and too real. He had faith in his Mind Palace but this just sounded different. It was as if she was just next to him.

Don't be, he tested.

Her voice immediately cut through his thoughts.

But I really should be, shouldn't I?

His eyebrows shot up in surprise at the turn of events. Clearly she had replied to his quip.

You can hear me?

Yes.

It was so clear that he could hear the uncertainty and the confusion in her voice. They both had no idea what was happening, but one things was clear to him.

His thoughts were tied to Irene Adler.

For such a long time, he was in complete confusion. He reviewed his week and was sure that nothing out of the blue happened. The list of possible reasons in his mind grew shorter and shorter until he thought he might have found the answer. And he wasn't in any way thrilled of it.

However, one had to eliminate the impossible and whatever remains however improbable must be the truth.

So the only answer had to be that it was a supernatural force, and he did not like that. Supernatural forces were unpredictable, uncontrollable. It was something out of his knowledge despite the amount of information stored in his hard drive. Frustratingly, he found himself searching on the Internet. He felt quite relived to know that he wasn't alone. There were already scenarios popping up from around the world, and he found only one answer.

Soulmates.

People of the same mind. People of the same heart. People who understood each other.

He the inexplicable need to tell John, but it didn't seem right. Not when he knew by deduction that his was mot probably Mary. He did not dare bring back old scars. Also, he wasn't going to risk a conversation with John on the Woman, considering the time he had realized that she was still alive.

Still, it was something completely absurd, yet so real. Somewhat exposed, that was how he felt. His mind was his safe haven. It was the only place were he could be himself if he wanted to or be a part of himself that he wouldn't dare show in public. It was his most private quarters, 221B didn't even come close to the safety his mind brought him. But now he found that it wasn't safe as well.

Somehow, that scared him.

However, maybe he should be thankful that it was the Woman, not just any boring man or woman (he found that it didn't matter). He had seen personal accounts of other people's romantic encounters with their so-called soulmates, and he found it disgustingly dull and boring. The Woman, on the other hand, would understand. He knew she would understand his thoughts on the matter.

Then again, it should never be the case. Pairing him with someone else was stupid. Supernatural forces claimed to be all-knowing after all. They would definitely know that other people would bore him to death.

(I saw a couple staring at each other.

So?

I wondered what they were thinking. How dull it must be.

Indeed.)

There was a down side to this - their thoughts were tied. The Woman was unpredictable in a lot of ways, even for someone as observant as he was.

Numerous times he would jump in surprise at the crisp sound of her voice. John would look at him in confusion but Sherlock would cover it up quickly.

(How many children do you want?

Excuse me?

The couple was talking about their future.

Rubbish.

I also wondered how submissive I could make you.

I don't beg.

Really now? )

It was most annoying when he was in the middle of an experiment. He didn't dare count the number of times the Erlenmeyer flask or test tube slipped from his hand at the sudden intrusion of The Woman in his mind. John was suspecting him of using drugs again which was very disappointing of him, while Mrs. Hudson was simply mad at him for leaking chemicals onto her floor.

Fortunately, it never happened while he was holding Rosie in his arms. That was also what gave away the fact that she was doing it on purpose.

(What a sweet thing.

What?

Rosamund Watson.

Interesting.

Well, I'm sure you'd agree that you don't know a lot of things about me. And for all you know I could be referring to you.

You disgust me.

I'm hurt.

You should be.)

It was alright, he supposed. Ever since he had the Woman constantly nagging him in teasing tones, he rarely found himself bored. He also had everyone telling how he was always in a good mood.

This was the Woman. He refused to think that Irene Adler made him happy.

Yet he also wasn't going to deny that he found it amusing in some way. Even though it was dangerous. So dangerous.

They weren't normal. Normal was something they despise. There was no such thing called as honesty and trust between them. Secrets conspired between them. Secrets that protected their true selves. Their desires. Sentiment. Many words were buried deep inside their skin that made them who they were. Exposing those meant losing, and they both were too adamant to want to lose.

And this connection of theirs made it hard to do just that. She was similar to him in ways. The secrecy didn't go unnoticed. After all, he had a lot of secrets himself. Yet he would never dare uncover them. He could try as he always did, but he doesn't think he would ever be able to unravel her completely. He reckoned she felt the same way.

She was dynamic. Ever-changing. Always in motion. Calculating at the same time unpredictable. She never ceases to amaze him. And it's exactly that that makes this so dangerous.

That was what also made this game so thrilling.

So it was due time that he finally found a way to temporarily block the connection between them. There was nothing complicated about it. Considering her capabilities, she would have found a way as well.

However it wasn't foolproof because it required an amount of focus. And from time to time, an interesting case demanded his full attention. That also meant she could perfectly hear his thoughts as he solved the case.

She was helpful at times when she decided to join, and he found that he really didn't mind. In fact, he enjoyed it. He liked seeing the way she thinks as she looked at the case from her perspective. He knew their past, what they've done in the day. She knew what they liked, their inner desires. She complemented him in ways no one ever could.

It was alluring. She was. She was alluring.

Except when she was on a particularly bad mood. They were still human after all. Their minds may be above everyone else, but their bodies weren't. Human anatomy and processes still stood in the way of their intelligent minds.

Fuck.

His whole Mind Palace froze in that single word. He stood there gaping at the frozen pieces of information in the air. Slowly, everything around him shattered into darkness, slowly fading into reality. That one word made him realize that he was back in his flat when all this time he thought he was still in the crime scene. John must have left, and judging from the texts he sent him, he was correct.

How eloquent of you, Ms. Adler.

He told her in a teasing tone.

Shut it! You're not the one who woke up with a massive headache.

The irritation in his voice told him that she was serious. It seemed ironic to him that she was suffering a headache. After all, it wasn't he first time that he had entered his Mind Palace in the presence of their connection. She was even there beside him as he took out minute details of the crime laid out in front of him, mocking and challenging him along the way.

He had always found her mental capabilities superior compared to everyone else's, on par with his. That meant her mind could handle plenty of information. His Mind Palace didn't seem to bother her the first time around, so why should it now?

You're not the one talking to a whimpering old lady.

His voice came out firm and devoid of the confusion he was feeling at the moment and for that he was grateful. Though the snap of her voice confused him more and annoyed him at the same time.

Is this the Great Sherlock Holmes admitting that he's stuck on a case?

What was with the change of mood? One moment she sounded hostile, and the next she was all teasing. She has always been unpredictable. He had been surprised at her actions many times. It was one of the reasons why he held her in his mind.

But this. This was something else. She didn't even try to hide the emotions in her voice. She openly expressed what she felt. It almost seemed... human. Mundane. She could be baiting him, he argued, yet this felt different. He knew she wasn't testing him.

That annoyed him more.

I didn't say anything.

Exactly. Do be gentle on the old lady.

He could almost imagine the smirk curling up the edge of her blood red lips. Then as fast as her mind was, her mood changed as well.

And shut up.

He still didn't understand what happened to her. John would have said he should be worried, but he wasn't. He doesn't worry. Also, he was certain the Woman was fully capable of dealing with almost anything thrown her way.

Perhaps it was out of confidence in her abilities that he ignored her request. Or perhaps it was just to tease her. Whichever it was he moved it aside and brought his full attention back to the case on hand. So maybe he should have seen it coming, but he really didn't. It was somewhat disturbing that he had miscalculated but at the same time it was also confusing.

William Sherlock Scott Holmes!

The sound pulled him completely out of his Mind Palace. It had almost felt like buckets of cold water splashed on his face as he emerged back to reality. He was rarely called by his whole name. In fact, it felt weird having someone do so. More so, if it was Irene Adler who did it.

The tone of utter irritation wasn't lost on him. He was confused more. A part of that confusion was due to the fact that she actually knew his full name, but that part was obvious. A large part of it was due to her behavior. That was the reason he waited a few seconds before he asked her, his voice softer than usual as if testing the waters in front of him.

Yes?

Will you shut up if I told you to find the other family member?

She snapped at him, and he was both intrigued and just as confused as he was the last time they talked. Intrigue won him over and instead of trying to find out what was really going on with her, his attention shifted back to the case.

Her words implied that he had missed something, rather someone. Had he? Impossible. He was certain that he had seen everything. After all, he had spun the case around and around in his head.

If you're in my head, then you know I've talked to all of them.

He could hear her scoff in her head as she rolled her eyes.

Oh, I'm perfectly aware of that, Mr. Holmes, and I also know that you haven't. Stop giving me headaches and think. Or I'll have you bleeding just as much as I am now.

That last sentence made him tense. Bleeding? Was she-? And he relaxed just as quickly as he had reacted. How stupid of him. Of course, it was only natural that she would bleed in the time of her cycle. The mood swings. The headaches. It all clicked into place. He felt the confusion go away as he realized what was happening to her.

Though he may have taken note of the date before he proceeded to review the case once more. Then he finally got it. The dog, of course. Unfortunately and disappointingly, he had missed something. He supposed he should thank her, then again that meant he was careless. It meant some sort of admittance, one he didn't wish to happen ever.

It such an obvious thing, in fact, it was one of the first few things he noticed. How ignorant of him.

He was silently contemplating a way of expressing his gratitude without completely admitting that she had noticed something and he hadn't. But then relief washed over him when he heard her voice once more.

You can thank me by being perfectly silent. So shut up, Mr. Holmes.

This time he heeded her wish.

Of course, he would now that he knew the reason behind her behavior, and he wouldn't want to admit it loudly in his thoughts that it had also been because she was right that he had missed something. With whatever between them, the only way to stop his thoughts from reaching her was to actually stop thinking too much. A feat that was definitely not easy for Sherlock.

But in the end the fear of what those could mean got the better of him, and he had to keep himself from thinking too much. He found the only thing that he could do without irritating the Woman any further. He took his violin and started playing.

And he swore he heard a small feminine voice in his head humming in accompaniment to the tune he was playing, the sound rich and sweet.

Maybe he was just imagining it.

Maybe he wasn't.

After that, Sherlock had thought that he and the Woman were on good terms once again. The whole ordeal, after all, ended with him feeling relaxed in the symphony and her humming along to the melody. However, it seemed that he was wrong once more. The silence had grew into days which turned into weeks and soon into months.

He wasn't usually the one who starts the conversation between them, but he finally thought it was time after a particularly dull and boring day.

Woman?

No reply. One could argue that he could be overreacting, but Sherlock wasn't that stupid. The conclusion he had came from a time of observation and what other people would call an invasion of privacy. It wasn't much of an invasion. It was just to make sure that she hadn't been compromised, that she hadn't wasted the second chance he had given her in Karachi.

He had constructed a hypothesis in his head that blocking each other's thoughts didn't exactly severe the connection completely since the disconnection was only temporary. Perhaps if he focused enough he could catch a few of her thoughts.

Both surprisingly and unsurprisingly, it worked. With the amount of focus in his head, he imagined swimming in darkness and envisioning with her back towards him. Slowly her thoughts floated around her, lighting up like fireflies. He stopped just behind her, close enough to almost hear the muffled sounds of her thoughts whispering million things to him but not close enough to alert her of his presence (at least he hoped so).

Stretching his hand toward the ball of thought nearest to him, he suddenly felt hesitation filling his judgement. He stood there with his hand frozen in the air, silently mulling over what he was about to do, when she turned around, her blue eyes flaring in anger at what he was about to do. That had ended with her promptly shutting him off as if she had closed the door on his face.

He found himself back in the flat, feeling slightly out of breath and his heart pounding in his chest. Taking a minute to compose himself, he tried once more to reach out to her.

I know you can hear me.

As expected, all he got was silence. It took a lot of failed attempts at distraction and nagging John just to last until night came when he found himself still feeling a bit restless due to his boredom, he argued and not because of one person who refused to acknowledge him.

You're ignoring me, aren't you? Stop being such a child, Ms. Adler. It doesn't suit you.

It was futile to do so, but he still did anyway. That irked a small part of him, while another part of him realized something. Realized this thing between them had created in him - a sense of companionship through the Woman.

She was, after all, quite interesting he would admit. He vividly remembered the first time they met, and she was surprisingly clever, enough to knock him speechless and babbling like a fool. He found soon that she somehow had that effect on him, though he'd been able to compose himself quick enough to hide it.

So maybe it was also that foolishness that started this narration of what his day had been, silently hoping at the back of his mind that he would get to hear her voice once again.

Lestrade came by the other day with an awfully boring case. I can't believe it took him two days to figure out that it was the son not the accused adopted daughter.

He had once thought that they were mirror images of each other. The longer they interacted, the more he had realized how similar they were. He must sound foolishly mundane but he had actually been surprised that there was someone else in the world so like himself. Yet there was also a striking contrast between them that he couldn't put his finger around.

And that made her all the more attractive to him. It was clearly dangerous, yet here he was trying to reach out to her every single day, reliving their pasts conversations once in a while.

Rosie's sweet, you say? I just carried her around and Rosie puked all over my coat. Now she's giggling at me.

Sometimes he would tell her of random things when the flat felt bigger then it really was. Foolish things he told himself yet necessary nonetheless. He'd talk of the cases he was working on as if she was interacting with him. All those interesting things that he knew would appeal to her as well.

Especially that one time he found himself in his slightly disheveled brother's presence which came to him as a shock.

I imagine you'd be amused when I say that Mycroft has been busy with certain... activities.

He had told himself that it didn't affect him. He had told himself that the loss of the Woman's voice inside his head didn't make him feel alone.

But he really didn't have the power to deny it anymore. One day he had awoken to the loud silence of his flat at 221B. John didn't live with him anymore. Mrs. Hudson was probably still asleep. Baker Street wasn't usually busy as the main streets of London. And it suddenly sent him back to the old days when he had just gotten out of rehab, when he still had those iron clad walls built around him. It just hit him how lonely he had unknowingly felt that time compared to what he had now.

A part of that was because of the the Woman, and he realized that it did make him feel alone once more.

So one couldn't really blame him if one day he found himself standing frozen at the foot of the steps towards his flat, his mouth gaping, his heart pounding. Clearly someone had gotten in, probably up at his flat. The faint marks on the floor confirmed his thoughts. And he could almost pick up the slight scent of lavender lingering in the air.

It took quite an amount of strength to pull himself together and climb up the steps, not bothering to hide his presence to the person waiting for him.

He knew what he would see, who he would see, but that didn't mean that the mere sight of her wouldn't knock him off his usual balance. There she sat in all her glory, her right leg over the other, her arms resting on the sides comfortably, her head raising at the sight of him by the doorway.

The fact that she sat in his chair wasn't lost on him.

Normally, if anyone attempted that, he would have been furious. Yet now all he could do was marvel at the Woman in front of him. Her long waves cascading down one side, exposing her pale long neck. Her blood red lips, curving up into a smirk. Her bright blue eyes, twinkling in delight and mischief.

If he was being honest, he could say that his observant mind still failed to capture her entire beauty.

"Well?"

His mind suddenly went blank at the sound of her voice. It had felt ages since he last heard the sultry velvety sound. It echoed in his mind, and for the first time in a long time, he found himself speechless once more with one word from the whirlwind that was Irene Adler.

She leaned forward to rest her elbows on her knees, vaguely reminding of the first time they met. Her eyes met his in a teasing stare.

"You've been trying to catch my attention, haven't you? Here I am."

He should speak he told himself. "Was I?"

You tell me.

She had said that through their connection as if proving a point. He was suddenly hit with the fear that she had heard his foolish and longing thoughts of her. A moment of panic waved over him. If she noticed, she didn't say anything to his relief.

"Why are you here?" he asked her instead to mask the anxiety growing within him. He moved from his spot by the doorway and stopped in front of her. He refused to sit down in John's chair because of the power play it implied.

The look she gave him spoke millions as she silently told him to humor her more. Sarcastic, of course. He could see the teasing look in her eyes, mocking him. Being the babbling fool once more, he had sputtered out.

"Tea?"

She laughed, the sound ringing inside his ears like wind chimes in a peaceful summer day. How poetic and sentimental, but it was true. He suddenly had the urge to record the sound and change the provocative ringtone he currently had and had somehow grown to like.

Though, he couldn't blame her because admittedly his questions was so stupid. Trying to hide the emotions from his voice was clearly just to save a bit of pride left in him in the short time they've seen each other once more.

"Is that what you want?" she asked, laughter in her tone as her eyes crinkled in delight at a flustered Sherlock Holmes.

He narrowed his eyes at her, slowly losing his grip on his self control. "I'm asking you."

"I'm also just asking."

She was infuriating. That was Irene Adler. The only woman who could make Sherlock speechless. The only woman who could compete with him. The only woman who could make him feel strong and weak at the same time.

The only woman who mattered differently in his heart.

Without thinking any further, he moved towards her in one long stride, digging his knees onto the cushion of the seat, trapping her legs between his, and towering over her smaller form. His hands found her wrists and pinned them beside her head. He felt her erratic pulse beating against his palm as he watched her eyes get swallowed by the black of her pupils, as he watched the small tremble on her lips, as he felt her breaths grow shallow against his face.

Somehow, he found himself growing breathless as well when her blue eyes met his, sparkling in a manner he found deliciously sexy. A small smirk curved on her blood red lips as her tongue flicked out to run along her lower lips, the movement clearly meant to tease him. She was successful, of course, when he found his heartbeat quicken more and his body thrummed with want.

My, my, Sherlock. What a naughty boy you've become.

Her voice seemed louder than ever, surrounding him a soft caress of seduction and temptation. He admitted that it was one he was willing to be consumed in. He had always prided himself self-control as he had always been unaffected by such things. That was true before he met her. There was something about her that brought those seemingly impenetrable walls and he hadn't even realized it until she was already inside his fortress making it hers as well. Making her go away was a hard feat, almost impossible if he was going to admit it. And soon he found a door with an Irene Adler-shaped lock in the midst of his Great Mind Palace.

"And you're misbehaving just by being here." he hummed. Their lips were only centimeters apart and he was very much tempted to close the distance that still seemed so large.

She replied with a smirk, the movement causing her lips to almost brush against his. "I told you. It's in my nature. I misbehave."

The last word ignited something inside him, and he found himself slowly growing hyper aware of everything about her. Her piercing gaze. Her heaving chest. Her smirking lips. Her sweet scent. Her alluring mind. Everything Irene Adler consumed him in a flame of desire and want, and he enjoyed it.

Yes, and I think it's high time I punish you.

A laugh left her lips as her eyes practically glowed in amusement, her smirk growing wider.

Will you now?

A challenge. One he wasn't willing to back down from. He was in too deep under her skin. He wanted everything about her and it was something he intended to do.

"Are you hungry, Ms. Adler?" his voice in a low baritone that made her shiver with want in anticipation, he deduced.

He pressed his lips against her in a searing kiss without waiting for a reply. In fact, he pushed her further over the edge until her words were reduced to moans of pleasure and mumbles of begging. Until they both collapse onto his bed,.

Their bodies still in the throes of pleasure.

Their limbs tangled up in each other.

Their minds connected as one.

I never really realized it had grown this long, but these two got me carried away even though I have like 4 exams this week. That's also the reason why the ending might seem a bit rushed.

The good news (bad news for me) is that I have ideas on this soulmate AU's that are clearly very popular in other fandoms. I just wanted to play with the idea of Sherlock and Irene going through these as well. It seemed fun and it is! Stay tuned if you want more! I'd definitely appreciate the support!