Just a little one shot showing how Irene may have tricked Moriarty into thinking she was dead and Sherlock's feelings about Irene's death as he stands on the boat with Irene's handkerchief.

I hope you like it...I'm considering writing a few more Sherlock/Irene stories depending on how well this is recieved!

The Untamed Sea

Irene Adler knew her poisons. She knew which were scentless and which were not. She knew which you could taste and which you could not. And she knew which could be detected and which couldn't.

This one in her cup was scentless, she was sure she wouldn't taste it and she was sure it wouldn't be detected.

But, nonetheless, she knew it was there. She just felt it. Irene had poisoned a fair few in her time and she had no desire to be herself a victim.

Her employer's curtain was there to safeguard him should she go running to Sherlock with information of his identity, but it was now working as a safeguard for her too. She kept her employer talking and slid another cup of tea across the table to replace the one the waiter had poured for her. There was no poison in this one, she was sure of that. At least, there wasn't until she put some in herself.

Irene always made sure she travelled prepared and prepared she was. Dear Sherlock had helped her more than he knew; the case of Lord Blackwood had brought rhododendron poison to Irene's attention and the benefits it could have for her if she used the right quantity to ensure the poison wore off naturally after a few hours. So she slipped some into her fresh tea instead.

The curtain slid away and Irene knew she was right. There's no way he would have revealed his face to her if he didn't mean to kill her.

"It has been apparent to me for some time that you would succumb to your feelings for him. It isn't the first occasion that Mr. Holmes inconvenienced me in recent months. The question is: What to do about it?"

He stared at her and she took a sip of her tea. His mouth quirked at the corners.

So she wasn't acting when she fell into the table, sending chairs and plates flying. But it wasn't death either. For a few hours, Irene would remain somewhere in between.

Until she woke...alone and clammy skinned.

Sherlock left Watson sat behind him, rocking with the boat as he wandered forwards to the rail, needing a moment alone. He pulled out Irene's handkerchief and brushed it against his nose, closing his eyes as her Parisian perfume teased his senses. He eyed it, taking in the smooth crimson of her initials, the slight lipstick mark on the bottom left corner and the deep creases where she had folded it in the same pattern over and over and placed in her coat.

So she was gone. And he could do nothing about it. He would not let himself mourn for long; there was no use in moping. But he would allow himself this moment, to stand on the top of the untamed sea and to remember her at her best; her tricks, her games, her cutting comments...how he had enjoyed them, even if he protested. That was their game, their dance.

He held up the handkerchief and let the soft, white material flee his grasp and escape to the wild sea.

"You'll miss me, Sherlock."


New Jersey was lovely at this time of year. The flowers were just blooming, the grass smelt fresh and the roads were bustling with street sellers and travellers alike, all enjoying the first rays of spring.

Irene Adler was amongst them, though not intentionally. She was trying to make her way to the traveller girl she had befriended on the other side of town. She saw each face as she walked past; ensuring each of them was not her former employer who believed her dead. She had been living on edge like this for months, despite the fact she was confident that Sherlock had dealt with him by now. But still, she could not risk returning to London to find out. A letter, however, could be risked...

She found Marie by the flower stall as always, her dark her pulled back into a long plait and her hands full of daisies. Irene spoke to her in confidence, exchanging her letter and a few coins for a handful of daisies and warm smile from the girl.

"Come Marie! It is nearly time for closing! And our friends across the water are calling!" Marie's mother beckoned her to close the shutters. Marie gave Irene one last smile and curtseyed.

"Goodbye, Miss Adler. I hope I will see you again, Miss. Until then, I will deliver your words to your love."

Irene opened her mouth to correct her but instead she just smiled and nodded her thanks before turning to make her way back to her townhouse.

Yes, New Jersey was lovely this time of year. But it was nothing compared to London.

Thanks for reading and please leave a review...I love them oodles!