He remembered it sometimes, thought about it. He didn't delete it. It was bitter, but it gave him something to do, something to think about.

"That's all it takes. One lonely, naive man desperate to show off, and a woman clever enough to make him feel special."

"You should screen your defense people more carefully."

"I'm not talking about talking about the MOD man, Sherlock. I'm talking about you. The damsel in distress. In the end are you really so obvious? Because this was textbook. The promise of love, the pain of loss, the joy of redemption. Then give him a puzzle, and watch him dance."

"Don't be absurd."

"Absurd? How quickly did you decipher that e-mail for her? Was it the 4 minute? Or were you really eager to impress?"

"I think it was less than five seconds."

"I drove you into her path. I'm sorry. I didn't know."

The apology scrapped at his nerves more than anything. There was too much pity. Mycroft was truly sorry. Oh my poor brother, I didn't protect you, or care for you and look how you've screwed up your life all over again because you don't have my protecting had. One more drop in the ocean of bitterness between them. Sherlock couldn't feel one more drop under all the weight of all the years already. Bitterness, anger, those was fine. Pity was galling.

"Mr. Holmes, I think we need to talk."

"So do I. There are a number of aspects I'm not quite clear on."

"Not you junior, we're done now. There's more. Loads more. On this phone I've got secrets, pictures and scandals that could topple your whole world. You have no idea how much havoc I can cause and only one way to stop me. Unless you want to tell your masters that your biggest security leak is your own little brother."

Because of course Mycroft would do anything for him. Galling, galling all over again. He wasn't a child.

"We have people who can get into this."

"I tested that theory for you. I let Sherlock Holmes have it for six months. Sherlock dear, tell him what you found when you x-rayed my camera phone."

She spoke to him like that. Mycroft spoke to him like a child. She spoke to him like a pet. It wasn't galling, galling wasn't the right word.

"There are four additional units wired inside the casing. I suspect containing acid of a small amount of explosive. Any attempt to open the casing will burn the hard-drive."

"Explosives. It's more me."

"Some data is always recoverable."

"Take that risk."

"You have a pass code to open this. I deeply regret to say we have people who can extract it from you.

"Sherlock?"

And again, not like a child, like something else. He was the one who looked down on the masses. He didn't get looked down on. It didn't happen.

"There will be two pass codes, one to open the phone and one to burn the drive. Even under duress you can't know which one she's given you and there will be no point in a second attempt."

"He's good isn't he? I should have him on a leash. In fact, I might."

He doesn't look at her.

"We destroy this, then. No one has the information."

"Fine, good idea. Unless there are lives of British citizens depending on the information you're about to burn."

"Are there?"

"Telling you would be playing fair. I'm not playing anymore. A list of my requests and some idea about my protection once they're granted. I'd say it wouldn't blow much a hole in the wealth of the nation but then I'd be lying. I imagine you'd like to sleep on it."

"Thank you, yes."

"Too bad. Off you pop and talk to people."

"You've been very… thorough. I wish out lot were half as good as you."

"I can't take all the credit. I had a bit of help. Oh, Jim Moriarty sends his love."

There is was; the switch. One person in his life had truly beaten him. It wasn't Mycroft, they'd bicker and fight but Sherlock won as often as he lost. That Moriarty had a hand in it. Yes, he was Sherlock's real nemesis. He wasn't just a game or a puzzle, he was a real threat, the real threat. Irene Adler was a puzzle, a drop.

"Yes, he's been in touch. Seems desperate for attention, which I'm sure can be arranged."

"I had all this stuff, never knew what to do with it. Thank god for the consulting criminal. Gave me a lot of advice about how to play the Holmes boys. Do you know what he calls you? "The Ice man" and "the Virgin". Didn't even ask for anything, I just think he likes to cause trouble. Now that's my kind of man."

She's ribbing him, paying very special attention to him again. Why? Why focus on him if not to get his attention. One last puzzle. But then, she never could help bragging. Neither could he.

"And here you are, the dominatrix who brought a nation to its knees. Nicely played. "

"No."

"Sorry?"

"I said no. Very, very close, but no. You got carried away. The game was too elaborate. You enjoyed yourself too much."

"No such thing as too much."

"Oh, enjoying the thrill of the chase is fine. Getting distracted by the game, I sympathize entirely. But sentiment. Sentiment is a chemical defect found in the losing side."

"Sentiment? What are you talking about?"

"You."

"Oh dear God. Look at the poor man. You don't actually think that I was interested in you? Why? Because you're the great Sherlock Holmes? The Clever detective in the funny hat?"

He saw fear in her eyes, in her tone. He'd been sure. She'd wavered. He knew at that moment.

"No. Because I took your pulse. Dilated, your pupils dilated. I imagine John Watson thinks love's a mystery to me, but the chemistry is incredibly simple and very destructive. When we first met you told me that the disguise is always a self portrait. How true of you. The combination to your safe was your measurements but this, this is far more intimate. This is your heart, and you should never let it rule your head. Chosen just any random number, you'd have walked out of here today with everything you worked for. But you just couldn't resist it, could you? I've always assumed that love is a dangerous disadvantage. Thank you for the final proof."

"Everything I said, it's not real. I was just playing the game."

"I know, and this is just losing."

But it wasn't. Those terrible red bars had popped up, and it was all over.

(A/N: Yes, another story… just yeah. Well two, actually, but the second one will pop-up later. I've recently become… minorly/majorly obsessed with Sherlock. I'm currently working on a set of shorter one-shots with a friend. It involves cats. That's all you need to know. Hopefully part one of that will be up soon. For now, I wanted to do something with Sherlock and Irene Adler… and let's just see how this goes.

Chapter 1 a bit later this evening if I keep on it.)