She hadn't yet completely processed what had just happened as she was so shocked by how similar this all was to the time when she had lost everything she had worked for to this very same man, just because he could read her like a book. However, Sherlock did something very different than the last time. He put his arm around her waist and pulled her closer to him. She looked up to him, fighting back tears of disbelief as he used his other hand to gently tug her chin up to look at him, and when she did, he smiled.

"Look at us now, Irene." He whispered as his face inched closer to hers. She pushed him away suddenly and took a few retreating steps.

"How did you know? HOW?" She said, choking on her anger controlling her impulse to throw her glass into his face and run straight out of the door and into the night. She had had it. How could he have known? He works through noticing patterns, but she had made SURE that she had made these two events as disconnected as possible. Sure, her actions obviously show that she has forced herself to give up on sentiment, but how could he have known that her password was very specifically chosen rather than a very specific combination of numbers? He said all those things about disguise, but wouldn't he assume that she would choose an invulnerable armor to guard her position this time? That would be the only logical thing to do, and for that reason she had chosen to go the complete opposite direction.

Sherlock straitened himself and looked at her, his eyes still smoldering with something she wouldn't dare name.
"There was no pattern for you, or anyone, to follow. I made sure of it." She said, sounding strangled. That made his face drop, then contort into an expression of pure amusement.

"No pattern? Can't you tell, Irene?" She walked up to him and grabbed him by the collar, pulling his face down to hers, saying, "That's Miss Adler to you."
"Well, Miss Adler," He said as his hand encircled the wrist of the hand on her side in a manner that she found to be painfully familiar. She tried to make her heart not speed up at the pleasure of his touch, but it just wouldn't quit. "There was a pattern. It might not have been all too obvious to you, but it was as clear as day for me."

She let go of his shirt collar and twisted her wrist out of his soft grip.

"Well pray tell me, then, Mr Holmes, what was the very obvious pattern that completely flew over my head?" She said dryly. He held out his wrist to her. She eyed it, and he nodded at her and extended it further. She daintily put her fingertip against the smooth inside part and felt a very accelerated pulse beating away against the thing, pale skin.

"You and I are way too alike. We show the sentiment we'd really rather wouldn't exist at all by literally wearing our hearts on our sleeves. We both pounce at the chance to have it ripped out of us. However, you did better at that than I did. If it makes you feel any better, you are still very unreadable to me at times, I know how much being readable bothers you, because I hate being readable too. You and I are so alike that when I notice patterns about myself, I know they'd probably be present in you, too." He said softly. He was just as surprised as she was at the tenderness that was oozing in his voice, but he figured he should probably let it all out in one go so he wouldn't feel the urge to do too often, not that he'd probably have the chance to do it often anyway. Sherlock took her hand in his and pulled her closer. She looked up to him, startled, and saw the question in his eyes.

She didn't know what to do: she didn't have a plan for this scenario as she didn't think that it would actually ever happen. But boy, was she wrong. When Irene's very well set plans usually go awry, although they rarely did, she would run. However, she didn't feel like running in that instant, so she answered his question by leaning into him. He gladly responded to her answer by pushing his lips against hers, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her closer to him. Her arms rose to wrap around his neck as his embrace tightened around her. She missed this.

He broke away for a second just to look at her face, up close, as though he was trying to learn every single cell of her skin by heart, because they both knew what was coming. Their eminent separation. As he turned his eyes upward once more to meet hers, they made a silent exchange and came to an agreement. They'd only have this night, this once night, and then Sherlock had to leave.

He leaned down so that his forehead was touching hers.

"Please don't make me have to take you down, because I will if I must." He whispered softly.
"Oh, and I believe you. You wouldn't want Mycroft to know about your drug problem that led to you getting sloppy."
"He probably knows already, given that I haven't touched base with him in over a week."
"Then you should probably inform him that you're alright. I wouldn't want him to try and storm my mansion, I just redid the exterior."
"That can wait till tomorrow." Sherlock whispers as he lowered his head and set his mouth against her neck. Her head rolled back as he pushed her towards the slide open door to which he assumed lead into some sort of bedroom. And as usual, he wasn't wrong.

With that, he and The Woman had dinner for the first time in months. It almost felt they had just picked up where they had left of, as if nothing had happened to rock the boat. Almost.

Neither of them could fall asleep. They both were studying the others' face, not speaking. Only thinking. They were both conveniently thinking of the same thing, about what was going to happen? Irene didn't want to kill him, although she knew she should. Sentiment got the better of her however, and she couldn't help but beat herself up over her weakness. How could she completely throw away every principle that launched her back to the top after one night? Of course, she knew that she didn't actually give up sentiment for good because she would've ordered to have Sherlock killed right on the spot just as she had planned to if that were the case. And boy was she glad she didn't have that happen. She snuggled into Sherlock's chest, nuzzling her face into the little crook where his neck and shoulder connect.

She couldn't kill him, but she couldn't let him walk free into the day. What would her enemies and employees think? She couldn't have any of them think any less of her due to any conclusion they may draw. And then, the perfect solution popped into her head. She smiled against Sherlock's cool, smooth skin as she internally congratulated herself on her genius. She really did impress herself sometimes. Sherlock leaned his face down into her ear to whisper, "What are you smiling about?" into her ear very gently, and she pulled her face away from her skin to say, "I'm smiling because I'm really clever."

"Oh, really?"
She pulled out of his soothing embrace to lie on her back. She smiled at the ceiling as Sherlock propped himself up on one elbow to hang over her.

"What makes you think that you're so clever?" He said in a throaty whisper.

"Well, I found a solution to the predicament you present me with."
"So I present you with a predicament?" He said as he used an arm to pull Irene towards him again. He couldn't get enough of the feel of her. He missed it so very much. He couldn't help but think how much better this was than a hit of cocaine.

"Naturally. How am I supposed to let anyone know that I have allowed a victim of mine to leave unscathed? My reputation would be ruined."

"Wouldn't that be a shame." He said as he started laying soft, tickling kisses lightly all over her skin. She pulled his head up to face hers and said, "Aren't you the least bit curious about what I have planned to do with you?"
"I'm pleasantly distracted at the moment, so I'd rather think of my gloomy fate later." He replied.

"Why do you assume that it's going to be gloomy?" She asked as he got right back to kissing her, but he didn't answer her.

He leaned upward to be able to reach her with his lips, but she put her hand in front of his approaching face so they could talk.

"Can't this wait for later?" He mumbled against her hand, but she shook her head.

"Fine, then. Tell me all about your clever plan if you must." He said, throwing himself back against the pillows, annoyed.