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Tweak says, "I am NOT made of green cheese!"

Sherlock Holmes (ifimnothungry) wrote in colligo_threads,
@ 2012-01-21 14:13:00

Entry tags:

irene adler, sherlock holmes

WHO: Sherlock Holmes & Irene Adler
WHAT: Sherlock finally agreed to dinner.
WHEN: January 20th; 7 o'clock
WHERE: An upscale local restaurant
RATING: PG
STATUS: In Progress

Sherlock had arrived early. Not surprising, given his desire to have the upperhand in most interactions, and there was quite a bit to be said about how much leverage being the first to arrive provided an individual. It had been the strategy that Irene had used, catching Sherlock offguard first being being prepared for him and then by being someone she necessarily wasn't supposed to be. As it went, Ms. Adler had yet to yield the upperhand once, and Sherlock was extremely eager to get it back. Which was why, after months of refusing, he had finally agreed to one of her 'let's have dinner' requests.

The first step in regaining the upperhand: do something unexpected.

Of course, she'd decided on the restaurant. She'd made the reserved. She'd selected their table so she'd controlled the position which they'd have relative to the rest of the room. She had the most influence in this situation so that is why Sherlock had felt he had to arrive early, to select not only the best position at the table but also balance out the advantage Irene had from already being familiar with their surroundings. Being seated at the table, after having negotiated his way past the host by deducing after a moment that Irene had made their reservation under 'The Woman' rather than Adler or Holmes, Sherlock closed his eyes, his ears seeking out the snippets of conversation around him and filing them away before he reopened his eyes and did the same with visual clues. He hoped, by the time that his dinner companion arrived, that he'd have just as much ammunition on the individuals surrounding them as he assumed Irene did.

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letshavedinner
2012-01-21 09:47 pm UTC (link)

To anyone paying proper attention, it wasn't difficult to see how pleased Sherlock was at the thought that he'd beaten her to the restaurant. Which was, in part, why Irene allowed him to continue having that misconception. After all, part of remaining in control of a situation meant sometimes providing the illusion that others were in charge. It was much the same in her line of work. Yes, she was the one who held the riding crop and key to the chains, but it was her clients who truly possessed the power in their time together. If they weren't keen on what she was doing, she didn't do it. They made the rules. It was her job to follow them.

Of course, most didn't see it that way. Toss out the word 'dominatrix' and people instantly envisioned something that was a far cry from the truth. Yet those very misconceptions had allowed her the upperhand in many situations so she was hardly in any hurry to correct them. Just as she wasn't in any hurry to yank Sherlock's belief that he had regained control away from him quite yet.

Positioning her napkin and smiling as the waiter instantly appeared with menus for them both, she waited until the man had left before her gaze flickered over the candlelight to the consulting detective seated across from her. His cheekbones really were magnificent and she took a brief moment to truly appreciate the aesthetic beauty that he possessed before her lips curved upward into a small hint of a smile. "Of course it was important," she agreed simply. "I'd scarcely waste my time on it if it wasn't."

Her attention fell back to the menu then, although she was already well aware of what she intended to order. It simply gave her something to look at while she spoke, a tactic she had perfected quite some time ago that was as much a part of who she was as her sexual prowess, anymore.

"I must admit, I was a bit surprised when you agreed to dinner," she commented idly, glancing briefly at Sherlock once more. "What changed your mind?" It was a directly asked question born of curiosity and meant to engage in conversation, no more and certainly no less, with no ulterior motive behind it. But something told Irene he likely wouldn't see it as such.

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ifimnothungry
2012-01-22 03:22 am UTC (link)

As the menu was handed to him, Sherlock took it, tucking it under his arm on the table as he leaned forward to study Irene. She was far more interesting than anything the list of foods, most likely in some floral type with equally as pompous sections headers, would have to offer. Which he was certain she knew, or she wouldn't be so intently studying a list, when she more than likely already knew what she was going to order, just to conceal her reactions to anything that he might say. "I was hungry," Sherlock said, which, even if it was a half truth, only covered part of the reason that he was sitting across from her now. There was also the fact that here, there was little else for him to occupy himself with, not nearly as much as there had been in London, and there was also the fact that he was curious. Curious as to why she was always so insistent that they go out especially when he no longer had anything to offer her. "Your timing just synced up."

Not that Sherlock expected her to take him as face value. No, she was smarter than that and certainly more clever. She'd know that his motives were never that simple especially when he was dealing with a puzzle, and she was most definitely a puzzle. Even after beating her, he still had absolutely no idea what game she was playing, and even as much as he would never admit it, it had only been by sheer chance that the simplest and most obvious of ideas had struck him when she'd been seconds away from seizing victory.

That, and his dazzling genius, of course.

"What's more curious," Sherlock said, lifting the water glass that had been placed in front of him in a slight salute to her, "is why you persisted in asking." Especially when she could have broken into his flat at any time and insisted upon it.

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letshavedinner
2012-01-22 05:38 pm UTC (link)

Placing her own menu down on the table, Irene smiled lightly and folding her hands into her lap. She knew it was puzzling to him that she had continued to ask him to dinner. His inability to truly understand a person, or their motivations, was part of what she found so very endearing about him. He was so terrible, inexplicably brilliant and yet, sometimes, the most obvious of things passed right by simply because he was wholly incapable of recognizing the signs that warned of it coming to pass. Yes, it was true she had relied on that a bit too much during their last encounter, but Irene was scarcely going to make the same mistake a second time.

"I should think it would be rather obvious," she answered him, taking a sip of her own glass of water. Her eyes sparkled in the candlelight as she tacked on simply, "I enjoy your company." With a minute shrug of her shoulders, gaze still locked onto his, she then spoke to the waiter who had approached the table during the exchange.

"Good evening, Robert. You're looking rather dashing tonight. New shoes?" She turned to look at the man then, amusement flickering briefly across her face as the young man flushed and shifted in place, stammering out a 'yes, ma'am'. Her smile was virtually all teeth. "Yes, well, you know what they say about a man and his shoes."

As the waiter flushed even more her attention then went back to Sherlock, eyebrow arching as she waited for him to take the lead in the ordering of their meal.

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ifimnothungry
2012-01-23 11:22 pm UTC (link)

Sherlock's immediate reaction to Irene's words was skepticism. She enjoyed his company? Nobody enjoyed his company. Even John, the individual most used to tolerating his company, Sherlock could only assume put up with him far more than he enjoyed being around him. The thought that anyone could persist so long in an action because they actually wanted to be around him was one that Sherlock was having a difficult time processing, but luckily, they were interrupted by the waiter.

Young, well dressed, in ways that weren't entirely a product of the restaurant's uniform, whatever this Robert was doing waiting tables, he was certainly striving for something much more prestigious than that. Particularly since Irene was addressing the young man by name. However well she must know this place, to know a member of the staff that well spoke to a deeper familiarity, and his reaction all but confirmed it. He was a client. Which meant that whatever he did outside of this place, it was something which Ms. Adler found useful.

It was perhaps a beat later than he should have realized it when Sherlock noticed that they were both waiting for him to speak up, so while he might have preferred a deeper and longer examination of this Robert, his attention as drawn briefly back to the menu before he held it back out to the waiter. "1987 Chateau La Fleur, if you will. And whatever the lady decides," Sherlock said, inclining his head in her direction. "You've more experience with his place than I do."

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letshavedinner
2012-01-29 06:31 am UTC (link)

And just like that, the ball was back in her court. Irene did so enjoy these little meetings with Sherlock and found that the general ambiance of a restaurant, and the ins and outs that went with proper behaviour in these sorts of public situations, really only made it all the more intriguing. It certainly didn't hurt that Sherlock, while more than capable of blending in well enough not to draw too much attention to himself, clearly still wasn't quite in his element.

Her own attention flickering ever so briefly to Robert, her lips quirked upward ever so slightly. "Surprise me," she said mildly, handing over her menu. Clearly considering Robert dismissed, even if he was still making a few marks in the booklet he carried to take down orders, she turned her attention back to Sherlock.

It wasn't until Robert had left, however, that she spoke again. When she did, her tone was faintly amused yet still to the point as she explained simply, "His father is a rather well known businessman." She paused. "And not at all interested in females, much to his wife's ignorance." She smiled just a touch. "Fortunately for me, his son does not quite follow in his father's footsteps."

She paused a bit before briefly tacking lightly as she reached for her water glass to take a sip, "And I wasn't lying, you know. I do rather enjoy your company. As I already said. Brainy is the new sexy."

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ifimnothungry
2012-01-29 07:21 am UTC (link)

It was always intriguing how someone who seemed to thrive on control was so willing to give it up in certain circumstances. Allowing him to pick the meal seemed like she was providing him with the reigns in this situation, but all she was doing was placing him in a position where he would be dancing to her whims even more, trying to please her tastes and curiosities in order to make himself seem that much more appealing. It was amusing, seeing it now even as he hadn't seen it when she'd done it to him, watching her make the men which she dealt with into something akin to puppies fetching and bringing and aiming to please.

The wine was brought to their table a moment later, the bottle uncorked and their glasses filled just enough to provide the wine with room to breathe before the wine waiter left the bottle between them and excuse himself to attend to someone else.

"Laying a pipeline, then," Sherlock said, lifting his glass and peering across the table at her. "He did seem rather young to be useful on his own, but the young are quite willing to provide information without understanding what use it might be," He said, quietly referring to his own actions when they were back home.

He'd been stupid, spectacularly ignorant as John would put it, in his dealings with her, exactly like she'd wanted him to be. He'd been another one of her puppies so eager and desperate to please and impressed, even if for different reasons than the rest, that he'd offered up everything she'd wanted on a silver platter. Best to get it out of the way now that he knew what sort of game she was playing, and he didn't intend to fall for it again.

"I'm hardly the same, though, sitting across from you in a restaurant than in any of our other encounters," Sherlock said, offering her a wry smile. "Unless, of course, you intend for me to somehow entertain you by giving you dirt on our surrounding company." It was a joke, but to be honest, he wouldn't be surprised if that was what she expected.

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letshavedinner
2012-02-12 01:26 am UTC (link)

Irene reached for her glass of wine, absently swirling the crimson liquid about as she quirked a smile in Sherlock's direction. Her eyes shone with merriment as she tipped her head, raising her glass to her lips and taking a small sip. "As I've already said it several times now, it's obvious you've no intention of believing me when I insist that I'm merely interested in spending a bit of time with you," she commented as she set her glass back down. "So allow me to try this another way."

Dropping her hands into her lap, folding them while doing so, she met his gaze openly. "You," she said plainly, "have nothing to offer me, Mr. Holmes. I haven't a puzzle I require solving and I certainly don't require any information from that glorious brain of yours to ensure my own well being. I'm doing quite well on my own, here, and simply wished to spend a bit of time with you." Leaning forward ever so slightly, her voice dropped a bit until it was a touch huskier than it had been.

"And I can assure you," she tacked on, "there isn't much you could tell me about our surrounding company that I don't already know."

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ifimnothungry
2012-02-13 10:49 am UTC (link)

It was a hard thought for Sherlock to wrap his mind around. Not that Irene didn't have anything that she wanted from him or any way that she intended to use him. No, that he could believe easily enough. He'd already fulfilled most of the things which he could imagine she could demand from him in the situation that they'd shared, and here, well, here, he'd only be helpful if she came across something like that again. It was the fact that she seemed to want to spend time with him...as friends.

At least, that was the only thing that he could assume from the fact that she wanted to spend time with him without desiring anything more than his company. John was the only person who did that on a regular basis, and even then, Sherlock wasn't entirely sure that John enjoyed his company a lot of the time. He'd only even been certain that the two of them had become more than just roommates and colleagues since the incident with Moriarty, and even then, he'd done his fair share of trying to screw it up. He didn't imagine this was going to go much better.

Leaning forward as she did, though, all thoughts of ulterior motives and possible issues with maintaining this dynamic were out the window as he smirked in the face of a challenge, "Really, Ms. Adler? Would you like me to try?"

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