Irene was hardly the first person to be bitter at him. It didn't even register to him that he had said something wrong. Then again, it rarely registered to him when he did things like this. He honestly did think he had taken the nicer route. Well, nice for Sherlock. And usually only when John was around did Sherlock even have an idea of when he was being rude. So when she looked up at him with such bitterness, the man held no reaction. Oh, he knew what John had told him. That he had been intrigued by the woman before him, that her death had left him depressed. That he had taken up smoking again, but if it was for the reason either John or Irene seemed to think, Sherlock couldn't tell as he hadn't lived it.
Intrigued? Yes. After all, she had manage to seemingly thwart him for months in London. And that was impressive. Did it mean anything beyond that, though? Sherlock didn't know. He had already told people, countless times, that he was married to his work and he had meant it. Relationships meant nothing to him. He didn't even care about them. And here Irene seemed to think that they could be something? It didn't make sense to him. What could they possibly be? Civil? Did she know who she was talking to? Sherlock was abrasive and held nothing back. He was calculating and beyond John and Mrs. Hudson, he really didn't care one way or the other. Lestrade was... well, he was Lestrade and Molly had her uses and was important in her own way. But that was from working with them. Not just someone saving his life. He wasn't even civil with his own brother.
"You wish to humanize me, is that it? You wish to refuse that I'm a sociopath?"
He had no illusions of what he was and was not. Sherlock well knew he was a high functioning sociopath. He could play people when it suited his needs. He could read them, manipulate them. Just because he aided the cops did not make him a saint by any means. The side of the angels he may be on, but that didn't make him one at all. John got reactions from him, Mrs. Hudson. But they were different. He didn't know why but they were. Very annoying, really.
Still the fact that she blamed him for this?
"Explain to me, which time is it my fault or is it all my fault? My fault for not knowing you upon arriving here so you decided to join with him despite knowing the risks? My fault for not trusting you with good reason? My fault for, as you said, being in Europe when you told me? You seem to mistake me as someone who can do everything. Be everywhere. I observe, Miss Adler. I keep watch and find the clues. I am not a superhero who can appear out of thin air when I am needed. I am still just a man."
Sherlock had no grand delusions of grandeur. He knew his limitations. Oh, he was a genius, brilliant, the only one of his kind. And Moriarty was his foe. But he was not a superhero. And to be blamed for being in a different country? Well, how was that his fault?
"Your decisions, the choices you made, were your own. Your own motivations. To destroy me, to save me. I never forced your hand and you are a brilliant woman, you knew the risks involved but you let yourself think you were something more to him. Let yourself think you had standing with him when you should have known all along that he doesn't care about anyone and when people stop being useful to him, he will destroy them. I am sorry for your loss and I can imagine how hard it was for you to beg as you are the one who makes people beg, but do think things through before throwing blame and being like everyone else."
Honestly, it was tiring. Everyone expected everything from him. But they were so dull minded that it made sense.