Irene’s fingers hovered over her mobile, hum on her lips as she passed the time between now and the text message she knew she would be receiving in a half-hour. Of course, as she debated between Flappy Bird and Candy Crush, The Woman flittered with the idea that her consulting detective would take more time than she allotted just to tease her.

When the half-hour came and went and she’d achieved a score of 1007 on the Flappy Bird game, Irene decided to take matters into her own hands. No doubt Sherlock had planned on using the hour he first suggest when this matter was brought up, so why shouldn’t the former dominatrix make the most of it. Her mobile was quickly placed in her white leather purse and she hurried around her flat in a busy mood to gather some things that struck her as something to use during this meeting.

Her barefeet made no noise against her hardwood floors as she searched through her closet for an outfit suitable for this. Fingertips roved over countless sheer gowns until they stopped on a dark midnight-blue cocktail dress and she smiled, slipping the silk material over her body and moaning softly at the feel of it when her mobile went off.

Her eyes snapped open and she smirked. There was her detective telling her to come over. Of course… Now this was her turn to make him wait. Fifteen minutes went by followed by another fifteen before she picked her mobile back up and fired him a response.

[Text: Virgin] Ten minutes away, Mr. Holmes. I do hope you’re ready..

This was absolutely humiliating, Sherlock thought to himself as he waited for her. Fact was, he was supposed to make her wait, not the other way around. Not knowing when she would be there only made him more anxious.

After sending her the text he waited, occasionally checking his phone. As the minutes ticked by with no word from her, Sherlock began to give up. Maybe this was all just a game. Maybe she was just seeing how far she could push him. Maybe this was all just to mess with his head.

Well, one thing was for certain, he couldn't wait on his knees for her. That was completely beneath him. Growling, Sherlock stuffed his mobile in his pocket before pacing around the flat and trying to find something to occupy his time. He attempted at first to read, but everything on his shelf was dull and had been read before, so he ended up just tossing most of the books to the floor.

Just when he was debating on whether or not he should start a new experiment or possibly attempt to clean (or course, he would always just leave that to Ms. Hudson) his phone buzzed in his pockets. Reading over the text he rolled his eyes and sat down in his armchair, typing up a reply.

[text: Woman] Bored -SH

She heard her mobile ring with Sherlock's reply,quickly glancing at it and ignoring the message as she hailed a taxi and climbed in, giving the address to the driver before she finally decided to reply.

[Text: Virgin] Maybe you shouldn't play with my time limits, Mr. Holmes... I do set them for a reason.

Irene let out a little impatient sigh as her scarlet nails tapped her thigh as she watched London fly by outside her window. Truth be told, the dominatrix was in fact nervous about what she was going to receive; how the detective would react. But she couldn't let him know that, couldn't let him see just how giddy the thought made her. So she remained impassive as she got out of the cab and paid the man, not showing how scared the cabbie made her and climbed up to the 221B Baker Street, knocking on the door. "Mr. Holmes?" Her voice wavered, hands shaking. "Let me in."

Sherlock glanced at his phone and rolled his eyes. She was obviously trying to begin with control before she even got there. He absolutely couldn't have that. Despite everything, he was going to try to regain as much control as possible over the situation. Truth be told, however, the idea of relinquishing responsibility was appealing to him. Just to let go and let someone else take the lead... well, it didn't seem like that bad of an idea. Pocketing his mobile, Sherlock moved across the room and slipped the lock out of place before opening the door. As per usual, Irene looked perfectly flawless. But, if he didn't know any better he would swear that she was nervous about something. No surprise, this was a strange situation for both of them. "Miss Adler...come in, if you would."

She barely took in the way he looked, the way that leather was begging to be pulled and that delicious way his curls were messed up. OK, so she looked a little. "Sh-Sherlock.." Irene whispered, lowering her gaze and settled into a chair. "We're going to have to reschedule this session. A, uh, a friend just visited me.. He's supposed to be dead, but-"

"Reschedule," he repeated, looking her over once more. Settling down into the opposite chair, Sherlock kept his eyes locked on her and looking for any emotion that he could pick out. "Miss Adler, this seems more to be an excuse. If you would rather, then you can leave now and just owe me a favour of my choosing."

"James." She snapped. "He's back and he was just my cab-driver." Irene exhaled deeply, nostrils trembling as she glared at him. "I thought you took care of him!" Her grey eyes shook with fury as she just shook her head at him. "You should know that only two things would make me give up you on a leash... Your brother-And James.Obviously, it's not your brother."

Ah, that made much more sense. "There's no need for the attitude, Miss Adler. I'm well aware of Moriarty's current state," he explained, leaning back. "The main problem is that he's aware of your condition; not only the one where you're alive but also the fact that you're coming to my flat. You should be more careful about getting into cabs."

“Oh don’t make me hit you.” Irene muttered before she sighed and looked up at him. "Sherlock-You said you killed him. I thought it was safe to come back here-Because you said he was dead!" Irene groaned and ran a hand through her hair. "I have to leave London now... All because you let me think you killed him and now you're telling me you knew he was alive! Do you have any idea what that does to me!"

"I know exactly what it means and, I must say, you have put quite the damper on this evenings festivities. I didn't tell you because you didn't ask. You just assumed." With a small sigh, he rose up and started working on unhooking the collar. "Where, though, is the safest place for you? ...A little help with this, if you don't mind."

"Leave it on." She mused, exhaling slowly. "Gives me something to concentrate on." Irene stood up and bit her lip before pacing. "Safest place... Safest place..." She threw her hands up in the air and huffed. "I don't know where to go!"

After a moment of hesitation, Sherlock lowered his hands. He watched her carefully, the answer obvious to him. Still, he was hoping she would get there on her own. "Probably with the only person who survived a game with Moriarty. If you can't decide where to go then don't."

She sighed and shook her head. "That's the point-No one's survived his game.He made you die for two years and me for nearly five! There's no safe place for me, Sherlock! Not unless I can get inside that mind palace of yours.."

"He didn't make me die. I was busy dismantling his system," he was explained, sighing. "He knows you're here and now he expects you to leave. He's not going to do anything at this moment. Not to worry, John and I are going to take care of it."

"So..." She stared at him. "You want me... To stay here." Irene's jaw dropped open and the grey eyes just stared at him. "Where would I sleep? What would I wear? How would I conduct my business?"

"You wouldn't do business for a while, I fear. I'm sure you'll survive. You can take John's old room or the sofa, if you wish," he explained, clasping his hands behind his back.

"Most important question you're forgetting-What would I wear? I've got all my dresses at my flat and I refuse to wear the same dress more than once a month." Irene snapped. "I'll take the bed."

Well, at least she agreed. Sherlock flopped back on the sofa, looking incredibly smug about all of this. "I'll send Molly to pick some things up. I'm certain she can find...something."

"Wipe that look of your face before I slap it off." She snapped and headed to the kitchen, kicking her shoes aside and setting her hair loose before she turned her back to him. "Unzip me." Irene ordered, hands on her hips. "Hurry up, don't have all day... I need to send this to 'whoever' so she knows what to get."

He couldn't help out and smirked at her again. Getting up, he gently pulled the zipper down. "Molly, and I doubt she'll pick you out anything like this. Though, I can't wait to see what she does pick out. Should be interesting."

"I swear to God Sherlock, if that girl brings /jeans/ or /jumpers/ I'm going to burn her house down with her locked in it." Irene growled and stepped out of the dress, hanging it over a chair. "Please tell me you have milk?"

You most certainly will not," he told her, still grinning. This wasn't an ideal situation, but he found it absolutely hilarious. "Probably not. Ms. Hudson will probably drop some by. Until then, I suggest you try to stop being so bitter over this."

"I'm stuck in your flat until God knows when, wearing God knows what, sleeping in filth and on top of that, I have a very rude, condescending flat-mate that just likes getting on my nerves..."

"Filth? It's kept quiet clean. And I'm hardly your flat mate. I'm allowing you to remain here until such a time as it's safe," he explained, leaning back against the counter and fiddling with the collar again. "Now that you're calm...er...mind giving me some help getting this off?"

Irene scoffed at his words, steam practically streaming out of her ears as she paced again in just her heels. “William Sherlock Scott Holmes, I am in no need, nor am I in want, for your stupid, sarcastic, utterly idiotic little quips towards the situation, that you have gotten me into, I might add. I was supposed to be safe! When you killed yourself and came back to life, that is when you said to come back. That is why I came back. Because you had assured me that James was gone and would not be bothering me again.

“He hates me, Sherlock. Whatever James and I had, was gone the moment I set my passcode.The moment I decided to die. And now you are joking about the matter, my life hangs in the balance here and all you can do is joke and tease me about whatever Dolly will bring me to wear. Tell me something, Mr. Holmes. Did you know that James admitted to loving me?

“That he murmured in my ear everytime he touched me that I was his? That I belonged to him, all of me belonged to him and if I ever tried to leave, he would kill me? Or have you just been assuming that everything I did with James was done willingly?

“He’s a psychopath, Sherlock! He is crazy and basically, he’s a time-bomb that was just set! James thought I was dead, he thought that his people killed me and now he knows that you, the great consulting-detective has interfered with his plans once again.”

Irene let out a deep breath and glared at him, lip trembling. “Thank you, Mr. Holmes, for basically signing my death certificate because I’m going to die now and it will be on your hands, remember that, Sherlock. I’m going to die because you couldn’t bother to tell me that the man who claimed me as his property, as his woman, is alive and he was just my cabbie!

“Yes, I know I’m alive but that’s not a good sign. It’s a sign that James is waiting now… That he’s going to do something horrible to me and he’s just biding his time.” The nails tapped along her bare thigh as she kept pacing in the kitchen and rubbed her temples.

“Guns, I need firepower, Sherlock. Where are they? And don’t lie-I know you have ammunition here. Hand it over now or I’ll find it myself, I tear up every floorboard and slice open every bit of furniture you have here.” Her chest was heaving, pupils dilated and pulse racing. God, she was frightened, he was supposed to be dead! He told her James was dead and he lied. And Irene was going to suffer because of it..