Sorry About Dinner

By Rabblocked.

CHAPTER ONE: Appetiser

"Run it through again." Sherlock snapped, doing his best to control the swelling anger in his chest.

The hotel desk clerk swallowed and nodded quickly, swiping his card through the machine. "Beep."

"I'm sorry Mr. Carlton, but your card has been declined."

Sherlock ran his hands through his hair in frustration. "That card should be good!" He bit back.

The clerk quivered, "I'm sorry, sir." He replied quietly.

Sherlock scrunched his face in annoyance, slamming his fist on the desk. His funds were clearly getting low. Being dead for two weeks had been exhausting, he was not looking forward to the next couple months.

Irene walked down the steps of the hotel, into the main lobby and froze. A very familiar figure was in what appeared to be a heated discussion at the check out desk. She slowly snuck over to stand behind him, disguising herself as a patient customer. She listened to their conversation.

"Let me try another card." Sherlock mumbled, grabbing his wallet from his trouser pocket. He handed the clerk his MasterCard and waited. The clerk ran it through the machine. "Beep."

"Declined, sir."

Sherlock sighed. "Perhaps it's your bloody machine!?" he began, unable to contain his anger any more, "Can I talk to your manager-"

Irene understood the situation immediately, that was when an idea formed in her mind. A beautifully simple one. She peered at the card he was trying to use. Last name was Carlton. "Professor Carlton?" she said in a very believable shocked voice. "It's me, Claudia. You taught me psychology at University." She put a bright expression on her face.

Sherlock froze as her voice hit his ears. He turned around slowly to face the woman that stood behind him. His eyes widened, slightly and he opened his mouth, hesitating for just a moment, before picking up her stride.

A smile spread on his lips. "Ah, Claudia! How are you? Finished your Masters, I take it?"

Irenes eyes glinted. "I did, did very well as well. I'm doing great now thank you, just taking some time for myself. I reckon I'm doing better than you. Not much work for a disgraced professor is there? And to think you lost your job over me. Still, we did have our fun didn't we?" She winked at Sherlock. "Here, let me get this, for old times sake" She leaned over to give her card to the clerk with a smile.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at her, clentching his jaw in rage. 'How dare she!, he thought. As if his old reputation hadn't been tainted enough. Forcing himself to remain calm, Sherlock gave her a small smile. "I'll pay you back at once." He replied shortly.

Irene leant in slightly, and said "Oh. I'm counting on it" Just loud enough for the clerk to hear before leaning closer to whisper in his ear. "Long time no see, Mr Holmes. Having trouble with our funds are we? Never mind. My room is big enough for two."

He flinched at her close proximity, as well as at her words, refusing to honour them with a response. He glanced around the lobby uncomfortably and then back at her. "Are you going to show me to your room or not?" he said lowly.

Her eyes danced at his words. She leant back and turned to the clerk, taking her card back with a wink. "Looks like I'm not checking out after all." She smirked before turning to walk towards the elevator and pressed the button.

He followed her reluctantly, keeping his distance as best he could. They waited for the guests to exit before entering the small, elegant lift. He kept his eyes down. "Thank you." He muttered, barely audible over the soft elevator music.

"You're welcome" She said with another smirk. "So what brings you here, Mr. Holmes? Looking for a luxurious death?"

He glared at her from the corner of his eye, ignoring her joke. "I needed a place where I could hide and keep an eye on John." he replied, curtly. "This hotel's proximity is perfect. Besides, it's not really my style, and therefore, I'm not likely to be recognised."

She nodded at his words. "Except you have been recognised. You have quite a unique look Mr. Holmes. Not many people have hair like yours and even less have those cheekbones." She pretended to lose her train of thought. "What was I saying?" She purred with a wink.

He clenched his jaw harder. She knew how to enrage him, though most people did. Still with her it was a game; there were objectives and goals. Others did it merely by accident-a byproduct of their idiot brains.

"I've been lucky. Til now." He responded blankly.

"Oh, but you have been lucky now. I wonder how you would have been able to pay for your stay otherwise" She mused as the elevator doors opened. She walked out of the elevator, knowing Sherlock would follow her.

He swallowed his urge to lash out, treading behind her down the hall. He waited for her to get the key and open the door.

As they approached the door to her room, she took out her key and unlocked the door in one fluid motion. She walked into the room, holding the door open slightly for him before taking off her coat and kicking off her shoes.

Sherlock entered the room, keeping by the door. He stood awkwardly, his hands in his pocket, eyes darting from object to object, avoiding her completeley.

She smirked at his awkwardness before turning to sit on a plush armchair. She crossed her legs, purposefully revealing her pale skin. She looked at him, waiting for him to speak.

"A professor who slept with you?" He muttered in her general direction. "I would have appreciated something a bit more...tasteful."

"Tasteful" She scoffed. "A professor is a figure of authority. Abuse of authority. Very me" She smirked. "It was the first thing that came to mind."

He rolled his eyes and walked to the couch that stood oppoiste her chair. He stifly sat down, coat, gloves, and scarf still cradling his lean form.

"Inspiration from past events?" He asked, the words dripping with acid.

"Replace University with high school" She murmured with a smirk, ignoring his tone. "I'll never forget Mr. Jones" She said, faking wistfulness. "I never went to University. My career isn't exactly academic."

He frowned slightly. Her intelligence and wit if not taught must have been inherited or accumulated.. Still, it was uncommon to meet someone so clever and cultured having had no higher form of education.

"I don't believe Oxford offers that major." He replied, taking his gloves off slowly, avoiding her gaze.

She looked at him intently. He was purposefully avoiding eye-contact. She shifted in her seat slightly, hoping to draw his attention. She drummed her fingers on her bare leg. "Not that I could learn much more if they did." She murmured softly with a glint in her eyes.

He ignored her comment, refusing to give her any form of satisfaction or attention to such topics. "So, Miss Adler, what brings you back to London?"

"To beg for yours and your brothers forgiveness, obviously." She said with an innocent smile before a mischievous grin spread across her face. "I can't even say that with a straight face. No, I had some... business to attend to." She said vaguely.

He sneered at her jest. "I see."

"Is Mycroft aware that you are alive?" She asked. "No, obviously not. Otherwise you wouldn't be so stuck for funds" She smirked.

"Good deduction." He said sarcasticly. "No, he thinks me dead, as do most of those I once knew."

"Except me. Does that make me special?" She said, jokingly.

He gave her a sardonic smile, "You're not alone."

"Really?" She asked, her eyes widening a little but a smile still on her face. "Who else knows? Should I be jealous?"

"Molly. Molly Hooper, she works at the morgue at St. Bart's." He said matter-of-factly, again, ignoring her comments of affection.

"Oh yes, I know Miss Hooper very well." She murmured mysteriously. "But whether or not I should be jealous is a whole different matter. She has quite the crush on you if I remember correctly."

He cocked his head, furrowing his brows at her implication. "Yes, she does, as I discovered last Christmas." He frowned at the memory-he had been beastly to her. "But I wasn't aware that you were an aquaintince of hers? Ah, of course, she must have helped you as well." The pieces coming together.

"How else would I get a replicant dead body. DNA tests are only as good as the records you keep." She reminded him. "She had an interesting request as a thank you. Now that was a fun day." She winked, trying to make him feel uncomfotable.

"Molly?!" he scoffed, uable to believe her words.

"One of my more frequent clients. Still have the pleasure of her company from time to time" She smirked, his expression was fantastic.

His eyes widened, slightly. Her words like a slap in the face, such was the shock. "I-I see." He stuttered. "Well, I'm glad she's...discovering herself."

"She certainly should have discovered herself by now. She's very...adventurous. The quiet ones usually are." she murmured, tilting her head to the side with a small smile.

He looked away, the continuing subject making him more and more uncomfortable. He didn't want to think of those things. Especially Molly doing those things. With her.

He cleared his throat, "H-how did you hear of my death?"

She smirked at him. "Well I heard of Moriartys death so yours was obviously a given. Very theatrical I must say. Much more so than mine."

He nodded, "I see." The memory of her betrayal still stinging him some.

She thought for a moment before leaning forward slightly, changing the subject and catching him off guard. "So, Mr. Holmes. It's a cold winters night and we have a hotel room to ourselves. Let's have dinner." She purred, a glint in her eyes.

He eyed her, eyes squinting mildly as irritation infalted his chest. "I believe you know my ususal answer to that statement." He said lowly.

She reached out a hand and slowly and lightly traced a pattern on his knee. "Hmm, yes. 'You're not hungry.' Well, neither am I."

His eyes darted to his assulted knee, before darting back to meet her eyes. The irritaition was growing, and his patience was being tested.

"Don't." He growled.

She leant further forward, halfway out of her seat. "Why not?" She murmured softly. Trailing her fingers a little higher up his leg.

He wrinkled his nose quickly-his temper flaring. "You know very well why not." He spat.

"Death has done nothing to help your temper, Mr. Holmes." she trailed her fingers a little higher before removing her hand and leaning back. Recrossing her legs.

He lifted his chin, this conversation needed to be removed from the table. "Dinner is not a meal I partake in. A useless waste of time."

"I see. Well I won't waste my time then." She claimed indifference, making herself seem slightly cold however, she was unable to keep the glint from her eyes. She saw his words as a challenge.

Sherlocks stomach grumbled. "Some food, however, might be needed." He stated, glancing down.

"She smirked "So, actual dinner then?"

"Yes." He replied lowly. "Preference?"

"Are we eating in or out?" She asked, feigning enthusiasm. At least, she told herself she was feigning it.

"I'm indifferent." He answered, shifting in his seat.

"How good are you at keeping a low profile?" She murmured.

He narrowed his eyes in offense. "It's my job." he replied sharply.

"Good." She smiled a slow smile. "Out it is. My treat, obviously. I doubt you could afford where I have in mind." Her eyes glinted in a mocking fashion. "Is there any chance you have a tuxedo?"

"Not on hand." He answered, eyeing her suspiciously.

"Hmm..." She mused, standing up. "You'll have to rent one. Use my card. Black tie is not optional. It's a necessity."

He stood up grabbing his gloves as he did so. "Obviously. Is there a shop nearby?"

"Yes, about two blocks away." She reached into her bra and pulled out a credit card which she passed to him. "Use this." She smirked.

"Thanks." He said, taking the card. "I'll be back soon-mobile number?" He turned back towards her.

She walked right up to him and without saying a word, slipped her hand into his trouser pocket, pulled out his phone and input her mobile number. She then slipped it back into his pocket. "There." She said with a wink.

He froze. Her hand brushing against an alarming area of his body. He clenched his jaw. "Thanks." he uttered, tearing away from her, and heading out the door.

Irene smirked to herself as she watched him leave. That had certainly gotten his attention. With a sigh, she pulled out her phone and typed a message. "You'll never guess who I have in my clutches. Mr Sherlock Holmes. If you want him, come and get him. You know what the price is. Hurry and reply before I change my mind. -IA" Her thumb hovered for a moment before she pressed send. Her face cold and emotionless.