Chapter 1

London stood still in a particularly cold and stormy autumn afternoon. People were rushing home, desperate to be in their isolation of warmth and comfort, like ants rushing to their colonies. The bells tolling 3pm from Big Ben sang through Westminster, as the invisible London cabs drove down the busy roads of the grand city, in silence. Among the crowds of the people, all dressed in plain blacks, whites and greys, carrying their suitcases and designer bags, one stood out. Her red lips exposed and her dark navy fur coat brushing past a shoulder now and then. Her high heels were clattering along the cold pavement, as quickly as they can. With the lack of an umbrella, Irene Adler was fighting against the wind that was rapidly building up. Turning up her fur collar did not do much good, and her balance was being swayed by the wind more and more with every step she took. She was close to her destination, but struggled with every passing second.

Irene sighs in slight annoyance as a storm breaks out, clashes of thunder echoing through London. When she was little, Irene remembered her parents telling her that every time there was a thunder storm, it meant that two dragons were having a fight. A delicate smile was written on her face, as she decided to call for a taxi. Waving her hand at a passing taxi, it stops.

"Where to, darling?" The anonymous driver asks The Woman.

"Baker Street. 221B Baker Street..." was the answer. There was a sense of tiredness in it, as Irene quickly noticed. She was sleepy, hungry and lonely. She hasn't eaten in days, and not slept for a maximum of four days. It has been a rough four years, and after Sherlock Holmes saving her from her execution, her life has taken a drastic turn. The cab made its turns and dodges, as Irene continued to swim through the memories of Sherlock. Still in disbelief of her weakness of falling for him, she smiled to herself. 'How could an apparently homosexual woman fall in love with a man?' The Woman thought to herself. A man with such extraordinary thought, but with such innocence. He being a virgin surprised her, considering him having an attractive biology. But she understood the reasons for that; his obsession with cases allowed no time for sexual thoughts or desires.

Irene steps out carefully out of the taxi, and hands the money to the driver, who eyed her with a degree of desire. She was used to that. But if she got that from Sherlock, she would probably melt like steel. Such an impossible scenario would corrupt her completely. The cabbie thanked her, and drove off. Irene found herself standing opposite the ebony-black door, with the big '221B' nailed on it, along with a knocker. A smirk escaped Irene's lips as she stood there for about three minutes. But there was a hint of something a bit different from just glee in her mind. Her stomach was also turning from anxiety. She has not seen him ever since he was shot, and she assumes that he is aware of the rose she had given him. It was unlikely he took it, but Irene liked to think he did.

Her high heels quietly walked closer to the door, as the rain only started to fall even harder, and the thunder continuing to roar, following with a sudden flash of lightning. The wind again started to build up, nearly blowing Irene off-balance. She had to make the decision of either using the knocker, or doing the 'traditional' climb through the bathroom window leading to Sherlock's bedroom like she did last time, bringing him back his coat she borrowed, and planting a kiss on his cheek.

"Well, let's see if you remember the unfinished business. Let's have dinner..."