Sherlock - The Game Is On!

A Scandal In Belgravia- Finale

Chapter Twelve

We went home that night. Home. Truth be said Sherlock was my home. That kiss. I couldn't explain anything. He got my emotions in a twirl. I didn't know what we were, what title we put on our relationship but I know for certain. It was something wild, blood-pumping and thrilling. It was something that no one had and everyone only wished to have. I knew for certain that I wasn't almost tangled with sentiment but I am tangled with sentiment.

"Are you seriously tickling me awake." I mumbled, tiredly. Fluttering my eyes open I lifted my head to Sherlock already looking down at me, smirking. Bastard. Beautiful, intelligent, sexy bastard. "Morning." His baritone voice rang out. "I suppose it is." He chuckled. Sitting up on the bed, back against the headboard, I reached up popping my back and yawned. "What time is it?"

"Ten o'clock."

Sherlock and I grew closer overtime, putting Irene Adler behind us for good riddance. By growing closer I mean we shared a lot of kisses and shared a bed. Nothing else. I was practically pushed into his room that night and since then I had no choice but to sleep next to him. Not like I was complaining. We both saw past sex. Sex isn't everything and when it happens, I'll go with the flow. For now I was happy with how we were.

Chucking a pillow at Sherlock I got up and got dressed. "What was that for?"

"What wasn't it for?" I countered. Shaking his head he sauntered to me placing a chaste kiss to my scarred neck...

Third POV

Baker Street - Daytime

It was pouring with rain. Outside Speedy's café, Mycroft stood under his umbrella smoking a cigarette. With a clear plastic wallet tucked under his arm and a briefcase next to him on the floor. John, with his collar turned up fighting back the wind and rain comes walking by. Seeing Mycroft caught him by surprise; It didn't matter, he changed his course and went to him. "You don't smoke."

"I also don't frequent cafés." Mycroft deflected. Dropping the cigarette in hand, he watches it fall before treading the light out. Closing the umbrella and picking up the briefcase they both make for the warmth the café had to offer.

Soon afterwards, the men are sat down in a booth. Picking up his mug John turns to the plastic wallet in question:

RESTRICTED ACCESS - CONFIDENTIAL

The camera phone is inside the wallet along with other bits of paperwork. "This is the file on Irene Adler?" John questioned. "Closed forever. I am about to go and inform my brother or, if you prefer, you are, that she somehow got herself into a witness protection scheme in America. New name, new identity. She will survive and thrive but he will never see her again."

"Why would he care? He despised her at the end. Won't even mention her by name just 'A Woman'. However, mention her to Michelle and she gains a dead look in her eyes. What happened?"

"Is that loathing, or a salute? One of a kind; The one woman who matters." Mycroft answered the first part of the statement. "No Mycroft, He's not like that. He doesn't feel things that way towards her in particular..." He drawled on but smiled to himself. "My brother has the brain of a scientist or a philosopher, yet he elects to be a detective. What might we deduce about his heart?"

"I don't know for sure but I'd say Michelle holds his heart." It was silent between them but it broke out with smiles from either parties. "You know initially he wanted to be a pirate." John laughed, quietly but his gaze became distant and reflective. "He'll be okay with this witness protection, never seeing her again. He'll be fine."

"I agree. That's why I decided we should tell him that."

"Instead of what?" John grew confused. "She's dead. She was captured by a terrorist cell in Karachi two months ago and beheaded." Mycroft held no emotion towards her spoken death. John stared at him for several seconds, then he quietly clears his throat. "It's definitely her? She's done this before."

"I was thorough. It would take Sherlock Holmes and Lady Michelle combined to fool me, and I don't think he in particular was on hand, do you?" Mycroft slides the wallet across the table. Clasping his hands in front of him he rests his chin on them "So what should we tell Sherlock?"

"The truth, perhaps? Seriously though, what happened between Michelle and Irene?" John was dying to know why Irene gained a death stare from Michelle. Mycroft cleared his throat before responding: "Let's just say Michelle is The Woman who beat Adler."

Sherlock was sat in his usual place in the kitchen, I was by his side reading. Sherlock was closely examining whatever it was through his microscope. Footsteps echoed and not soon after John appeared. "Clearly you've got news." Sherlock stated. "Hi Michelle." John spoke. "Hiya Johnny." He eye rolled at his old nickname, I let out a hearty laugh. "If it's about the Leeds triple murder, it was the gardener. Nobody noticed the earring."

"Er no, it's about Irene Adler." My head snapped to his direction. "Oh? Something happened? Is she back?" Sherlock's hand was resting on my thigh, squeezing it once every so often. "No, she's er, I just bumped into Mycroft downstairs he had to take a call." John moves closer into the kitchen. "Is she back in London?"

"No she's..." He sighed. He glanced at us once more before responding. "She's in America was what I was supposed to say to you both, but I can't hide it from you. She was beheaded by some folk in Karachi a few months back." Sherlocks head snapped to me, having a silent conversation. He raises his brow. I shake my head side to side. I didn't do this. He nodded in acknowledgment before turning back to John. "Safe to say neither of you will be seeing her again."

"Why would I want to see her again?" John smiled dutifully, looking between us. "Never said you did."

"Is that her file?" I asked. He glances down acknowledging it. "Yeah did you want to..."

"No thank you." I smiled. "I will have the camera phone though." Sherlock stated. "There's nothing on it anymore. It's been stripped." Sherlock extends his opposite hand towards John. "I'll still have it."

"Look I've got to give this back to Mycroft. It's Governments property." There's a long pause. "Please?" Sherlock asked. He reaches into the wallet, laying the phone gently in Sherlock's hand. "Thank you."

"Well I better take this back... Did she ever message again after all that?"

"Once, a few months ago."

"What did she say?"

"Goodbye, Mr Holmes." Sherlock responded. John turned to me. "Goodbye, Lady Phillips." Leaving the flat Sherlock unlocks his phone. He stands up and walks to the living room window. I smile faintly before heading towards him. "I'm sorry, Sherlock." I wrap my arms under his arms around his chest, leaning my head on the middle of his back. "What for?"

"The Woman." I responded. He turned around in my arms cupping my face. "A Woman. My dear. Not Thee." I smile meekly at him. "As you wish." I commented. He leaned forward and captured my lips with his. Every time he kisses me, he takes my breath away. Unlocking our lips he leans his forehead on mine. "She was just a woman. Nothing more."

"I know." We share a glance to the rain painting our window. Just a woman.