Hey guys! This is part one of how I imagined the pool scene at the end of BBC Sherlock series one too end. Hope you guys like it!

Into the Deep

Time seemed to have slowed down. It was almost as if everything had been frozen. Jim stared at Sherlock, Sherlock stared at Jim and I stared at the bomb just a few metres away from me- the bomb that Sherlock was currently pointing his gun at.

Both of these men were unpredictable; one, a mass-murdering psychopath who had messed with our heads and murdered innocent people just for 'fun' and the other a high-functioning sociopath who risked his life to prove he was clever. The way I could see it...this could only end badly.

I closed my eyes and braced myself for what was sure to come. On the battlefields, I had prepared myself for death many a time and in the end it had become second nature...but somehow this was different. My life felt right. I felt whole. I didn't want to die when my life had finally just got on track. I-

Someone cleared their throat from above, interrupting my thoughts and making me jump. The three of us simultaneously looked up to see a striking young woman with long, dark red curly hair casually dangling upside-down from the roof. She winked and flashed us a wry grin.

"Hello boys." She said in an American drawl. Then, suddenly, she dropped a small metal canister to the ground. As it clattered loudly on the tiles, a thick white mist began to swirl around us; intensifying and growing until I could see nothing but a white blur.

Loud footsteps echoed around me. "Sherlock? Sherlock!" I yelled, blundering around in a state of blind panic.

"John!" I heard him reply in the same desperate tone but I couldn't tell which direction the voice was coming from. "Sherlock! Where are you-"I yelped in surprise as I felt myself falling. Cool water engulfed me as I sank deeper and deeper. Frantically, I tried to drag my body to the surface; flailing about madly and ironically reminding me of a fish out of water. Then, I felt the hard stone on the side of the pool and relief flooded through my veins. I heaved myself up out of the pool, and noticed that all the smoke had now cleared. Blinking the water away, I found myself looking up at a worried looking Sherlock and the very smug looking woman from before.

"Going for a nice little swim were we?" the woman asked, grinning from ear to ear. I scowled up at her as Sherlock placed his suit jacket around my shoulders. I was shivering violently but if it was from the shock or the cold I didn't know and at the moment I didn't really care. Although this woman may have just saved our lives, I took an immediate disliking to her.

"You!" I jabbed my finger at her accusingly. "The smoke! I..."

"Yes, you did always like to make an entrance didn't you Irene?" Sherlock sighed as he straightened up beside me.

"Sherlock, you're looking better than ever! Long time, no speak!" For the first time I took in what the woman was wearing. She was dressed in very tight black and red leathers that showed off her figure and complimented her curves. Her boots were knee height (also leather) and had a very high heel- making her just a little taller than Sherlock.

"Indeed..." Sherlock muttered as he looked her up and down, his face an unreadable mask. "John, this is Irene Adler; old friend..."

"Oh, come Sherlock we weren't just friends! Or have you forgotten all the fun we had together?" She said, waggling her eyebrows suggestively as he rolled his eyes. I made a mental note to interrogate Sherlock later. For now though, there were more urgent matters to attend too.

"Jim?" I asked Sherlock as I dragged myself up of the ground; hating the fact that down there I felt even less important.

"Will be miles away by now."

"The snipers?"

Sherlock opened his mouth to reply but Irene beat him to it.

"I have someone dealing with them currently." She said, waving my question away as if I was an irritating fly.

As if on cue a cry came out from the balcony above and a darkly dressed man was flung across the room, falling and then landing in the pool where I had been just moments before. For a second, I sympathised with the man, before quickly realising that he had been pointing a gun at my chest just a little while ago.

A small figure leap down from above, landing in a low crouch in front of us. She flicked her hair back and casually strolled over as if nothing had happened. The girl was about 15 years old, had long wavy hair of a dark brown shade and emerald green eyes that seemed to sparkle with intelligence and fascination. She too wore a black leather jacket but had jeans and thick army boots to go with it.

"This is my assistant, Brey Malford." Irene said in a bored tone as she admired her perfectly manicured nails.

"Hi." The girl said in a smooth English accent as she smiled warmly at me and gazed up at Sherlock in awe. "I don't want to sound cliché but I really am a huge fan of your work ..."

"Please, call me Sherlock." He said, flashing her a crooked grin and shaking her hand until she was practically glowing. "I'm sure you've heard of my colleague Dr. John Watson."

The girl turned to me. "I read your blog." She said nodding enthusiastically. "I just love hearing about all the cases you two solve together, it's just amazing!"

"Thank-you." I said returning the girl's warm smile. "I'm glad someone appreciates my work." I pointedly glanced at Sherlock who pretended not to notice.

"Yes, yes, this is all very nice but we really should move on." Irene snapped impatiently. "Did you take care of the snipers? All of them?"

"They should all wake up in a couple of hours. Well..." Brey glanced uneasily at the man floating face-down in the pool. "Most of them anyway..."

Irene clapped her hands together. "So, I heard Jim got himself a little lapdog to drool over him! Any idea who that might be?"

I frowned at her. "How did you know that?" She smiled mysteriously at Sherlock as if it was him who had asked the question and not I. "I have friends in high places." She murmured in a husky voice. I rolled my eyes and out of the corner of my eye I saw Brey making a face that suggested similar distaste towards Irene's flirtations with Sherlock. Sherlock himself however remained completely composed.

"You must mean Molly." He told her. "She works at the morgue- we can go see her now if you like?"

Irene prowled over to him and looked deep into his eyes. "Oh, I'd like that very much." She purred into his ear, pronouncing every syllable in a deep, grumbling tone.

I cleared my throat and she span around, eyes burning with rage as she stared me down. I stared right back, enjoying the pure fury I had made jolt through her like I had jabbed her with a hot iron.

"Sherlock," I said, still not taking my eyes off hers. "It's 1 o'clock in the morning. We can't just storm in on Molly!"

Sherlock frowned. "Of course we can."

I turned away from Irene and met his gaze. "Sherlock," I said calmly as if talking to a small child.

Sherlock sighed in defeat. "Fine." He groaned. "First thing tomorrow."

"Oh, and I hear the two of you have a flat together!" Irene practically sang. "Two boys sharing a flat together, my, my, I would very much like to see that!" She winked at Sherlock. "Any chance I could take a look-see?"

"Of course." Sherlock said the exact same moment I yelled "No!" I gawped at him. Sherlock hated other people being in our flat. Heck, Sherlock just hated other people. But the flat was our place, just for us. I felt confused at why Sherlock would want to change that and dare I admit it...a little hurt. Why was he acting so differently around this woman?

"Great!" She laughed, quickly darting a smug glance in my direction, knowing that she had won. "Oh and Brey, be a dear and nip down to the store while we're gone and get me some vodka- I would get it myself but me and Sherlock have sooo much catching up to do."

Brey simply blinked at her in shock for a moment before what Irene had just said fully registered. "Vodka?" She repeated. "I'm 15 years old! How the bloody hell am I going to buy a bottle of vodka- and even if I could, where am I going to get it at 1.00 in the morning?"

Irene smiled sweetly at her. "I'm sure you'll think of something." And with that she walked out.

Sherlock and I glanced at each other for a moment, knowing what had to be done.

"I'll go." I said finally.

"Sure?" he asked.

"Yeah, you go ahead."

Sherlock smiled gratefully, nodded at the two of us and followed Irene out the door.


"Is she always like that?" I asked Brey as we trudged along the street toward Tesco (the nearest shop still open at this time that sold vodka).

"A total bitch you mean?" Brey grinned knowingly. "Yeah, pretty much."

"Why do you stay with her then?"

Brey sighed and looked at the floor. "My parents were killed a few years back. Murdered in our own house. I came back from martial arts class and just found them, lying in the living room...dead.

"I'm sorry." I said quietly.

Brey shrugged as though it was no big deal. "I wanted to find out who killed them. Stupidly, I tried asking the police but the idiots had found nothing and were beginning to believe it was suicide." Brey shook her head sadly. "But I knew it was murder. One day, Irene just turned up out of the blue. She said she could teach me to fight; to think for myself and to detect things that normal people couldn't. I thought it was a little strange and asked her why but she just said I had 'potential'. I've been with her for two years now. I'm learning more every day. It's good."

"But you hate her?"

"Well, I don't hate her..."

I raised my eyebrows.

"Well, yeah, ok I hate her." Brey laughed. "She's clever and all but she really is a proper cow. You're so lucky to have Sherlock! I wish I had Sherlock as a partner." Brey saw the look on my face and began to blush furiously. "Well, you know what I mean...he just seems to appreciate you so much!"

My phone bleeped from my jacket. I looked down and it read: 'While out get more milk. SH.'

I turned to Brey and showed her the message. "Well, you know," I said sarcastically. "It's just so great to know I'm appreciated!"