I am not in the Holmes + Irene Adler camp -

One is a thinker, the other a vamp.

However, the hash and re-hash of that riff

Has led in my mind to an interesting…what if?...

Enjoy. Take with a grain of salt and two aspirin.

I walked into the dining room late one autumn morning to find Holmes dexterously reading the newpaper with one hand and buttering his toast with the other. As soon as he saw me he folded the paper, tossed it into the center of the table and began to stare fixedly at the landscape painting on the opposite wall.

"Morning, Watson. So kind of you to join us for breakfast."

I sighed and rubbed a kink out of my neck. "Yes, I know, I'm rather tardier than usual. The ballet ended late last night." I poured myself a restorative cup of hot coffee and topped off Holmes's cup. "You ought to have gone, you know."

"There are only a few things which I detest more avidly than the ballet, and most of them are either illegal or generally unmentionable in polite society. But I'm glad you had your fun."

My bohemian flatmate missed my raised eyebrow entirely as I glared balefully at him over the top of my coffee cup. With furtive curiosity I lifted the newspaper from where it lay atop the plate of toast and opened to the page Holmes had been reading. I was surprised to find a light pencil-mark next to the following item in the list of obituaries:

ADLER, IRENE. D. late yesterday in the Saint Esprit Hospital in Marseilles, France, following a riding accident. Mrs Adler will be greatly missed for her skill and talent as a classical vocalist of no ordinary merit, and for her concerts both at home and abroad.

She is survived by her former husband, Mr Godfrey Norton, Esq.

Services will be private.

I noticed that my friend had been stirring sugar into his coffee for a full minute and a half while still gazing absently at nothing.

"Holmes?"

He started, his spoon clinking loudly against the rim of the cup. He withdrew it hastily.

"What is it, Watson?"

"Did you see this article regarding the passing of one of your former…acquaintances?"

"Miss Irene Adler, yes." He saw the unquenchable smirk playing beneath my moustache and looked at me mockingly.

"Don't be coy, Watson. You know as well as I do that there was nothing about the woman to attract her to me, or me to her. She was an adversary, an opponent, and in her passing I merely regret the loss of a worthy foe."

I threw up my hands in mock surrender. "I am no matchmaker, Holmes…"

"Whatever your ghastly account of the tale says to the contrary…"

I let this remark pass. But as it did an interesting thought nudged the forefront of my mind.