First of all, we’re sorry for disappearing like we did. After the Irene Adler case, we decided that we were owed a little break (read: Sherlock woke me up the morning after the case was concluded by throwing my suitcase on the bed and pulling our clothes from the closet, announcing that we were leaving 221B for a while). By the time I realised it wasn’t for a new case, we were already halfway to Sussex. Apparently, the Holmes family has a cottage here, but, unfortunately, the wifi is nonexistent.
So, here we are now, on our own, with the sea air surrounding us and the sound of seagulls as our alarm clock.
Anyway, Irene Adler. She’s… well, I can’t disclose too much information due to its sensitivity, but I can safely say that Sherlock has saved the day, yet again. When Irene showed up at our flat, she was in danger. She had faked her death and hid her phone with Sherlock, to get away from those who were out to get her and coming back endangered not only her, but her girlfriend Kate as well. That phone was the only thing she had to use to keep them safe. Page after page of sensitive information, all locked away with a code only she knew. Not even Sherlock could figure it out.
And she used it. She used Sherlock to crack a code (I can’t divulge in this further, so don’t ask) and Irene sent it on. To Moriarty. She had been working for him, all this time! And we fell for it.
It was a close call, but Sherlock figured it out. God, he was brilliant. The moment he realised what the code was, I couldn’t believe that he even real. I know we’ve both said on multiple occasions that not everything is about me… but this was. She must have changed her password when she met us, so it spelled JOHN. Unbelievable!
Sherlock was down, beaten, ridiculed and he managed to come out on top anyway. It’s over now. Irene Adler has disappeared from our view - although Sherlock does not appear too worried about her wellbeing. I’ll be happy if she stays away, to be honest.
But enough about her. That’s over and done with. On the one hand, I’m grateful to her. Without her, I never would have - well, I’m not sure how long it would have taken for Sherlock and I to tell each other how we felt without her interference. I’m currently basking in the sun, laptop on my lap, and I’m typing one-handed because next to me is an amazingly brilliant and gorgeous man, scrolling through his phone whilst holding my hand with his free one.
So… ta for that, Irene Adler. And good luck to you, wherever you are.