You gotta bea bit bolder. Tag Lestrade.

[IRENE ADLER]

She fell with a loud thud, her eyes looking at her date. Her fingers poised on the glass wine, her lips red . Oh yes she was going to have fun with this little blond. By her own memory, she could remember a few weeks ago when she had still been blonde. Well she was now dark haired, and with a poof side to it. In her current lovers eyes, she looked like she was a poodle. She disliked poodles, especially their endless yapping.

Seeing the waiter serve their meat, she sat to the side and started to grab her clients plate. Her hands slicing the meat as she stood up and placed the plate on the side. Her hands gently tying a bib as she sat down and started to grab some food with one of the spoons and cooed at the young woman. Her skilled hand placing the food as the woman sucked off as she grabbed some more food and fed it to the girl. Her hand grabbing the wine as she placed the food in front of the girl and ate her meal.

Biting her nail, she studied the woman as she saw food drip. Yes she was doing this, and later on she would need to scold and then play with this little baby. But she was not fazed by it, oh no on the contrary. She found it to be rather interesting to study this character.

[GREGORY LESTRADE]

He’d come here purely because the quick case he’d previously been investigating was next to this restaurant. However as soon as he was sat, he began contemplating leaving. There were three reasons for this.

One, the restaurant was very, very fancy. Not Buckingham-palace fancy or anything, but there were a few chandeliers and a sign that very obviously pronounced its dislike of children and people who did not dress finely on the wall. The menu was fancy, the plastic-paper expensive, and the font was curly and half in French. The food was expensive, not out of his price range but much higher than he ever ould’ve paid for food purposely. Much too fancy than Lestrade would’ve liked.

Second, was that it was the kind of restaurant that people did not go alone to. Couples were lined up, snogging and cuddling and feeding each other appetizers over the table, making Lestrade squirm uncomfortably. He probably looked ridiculous, being here alone.

Last, was that as soon as he sat down, he saw a dark, curly haired woman playing with the food of her date’s across the table. It wasn’t that the woman’s actions made him uncomfortable (not that they didn’t, but that wasn’t the reason of his shock), but the fact that is was not just a woman, it was The Woman.

Oh dear god.

The last time he’d seen her was when he’d first moved to the city. He’d gone out for a night at the pub. He’d made very, very sure that he hadn’t overdid it. Unfortunately, he ended up failing. The woman sitting next to him at the counter had started chatting with him. She was blonde and nice, and Lestrade found him talking about his job and his kid and their likes and dislikes, and sooner or later he was drunk into a bit of a stupor.

He’d woken up on her couch the next morning. Following instinct, he’d immediately panicked. He was way too old to be having drunken one night stands with people anymore! The woman had quickly reassured him that she had not, in fact, taken advantage of him, he’d simply fallen half asleep and she’d taken him home. Lestrade found proof of their lack of sex, he wasn’t sore and his clothes were undisturbed, but it still made him wildly disappointed and scared of himself.

Asking the woman’s name, she’d simply introduced herself as The Woman. Later, when he looked her up on the internet, he was a little more than disturbed to find that she was a rather popular provider of, ah, recreational scolding. The thought of what could have happened the night before was enough to stop him from talking to people in bars for a good long while.

Now, though The Woman had been blonde when he saw her, the change in hair color wasn’t nearly enough for him not to recognize her; he’d recognize the pale, flawless face anywhere.

“Jesus Christ it’s you!” Lestrade exclaimed. Now, he hadn’t really meant for anyone to hear that, let alone say it aloud, but he’d rather forgotten in his shock that one, his voice was rather loud, and two, he was sitting close enough to The Woman and her date for both of them to hear this comment easily.

[IRENE ADLER]

She started to notice the cracking of her clients neck as she saw the man. Her eyes focused on him as she raised her hand and gently hid herself in shame. Well this was unexpected, and just like that she saw 20 thousand check left behind for her. A scoff said as she stood up and threw the chair to the side. She was not in the mood to be friendly. But since he had ruined her night. She found herself clenching his shirt and pulling him close to her face. "Compose yourself! and you owe me dinner and 30 thousand dollars.. "

She stated and sat down with a thud on his lap. Her waiter coming towards her as she took out a cigar and saw the waiter help her light it. "Anything else you want miss Adler" she heard her waiter ask and she snickered. " Yeah , you in my bed later on"she joked and saw the man laugh a little. It was a little unusual to see such a man. She missed him in some odd freakish way. But yet now they had a chance to play catch up. Taking out her cell phone, she furiously typed an apology to her client in her mobile and sent it off. Her attention still on her hand as she still had it on his shirt. A blush forming on her face as she parted away from her seating position and sighed.

Her hand going to her temples as she clicked her tongue. "Chapgane Lestrade.. Or anything alcoholic that will make you go to La la land ? " she asked as this was unusual. If his yelling had caused this reaction ,what else could she expect from this evening.

[GREGORY LESTRADE]

Lestrade immediately felt bad when The Woman’s client completely overreacted to his really not-so-bad comment and ran out of the restaurant in a huff. And then, suddenly, The Woman was right in front of him, pulling him close, and yelling in his face: “Compose yourself! And you owe me dinner and thirty thousand dollars!”

The detective inspector thought of many things, then. First off, he was mostly composed; he’d not even yelled. And second: Third thousand dollars?! Blimey, this woman must be a top-notch shag then, shouldn’t she be!

Without really noticing how it happened, he was suddenly sitting down her table with The Woman on his lap. The waiter lit her cigar – where’d she even get that from? – and the two exchanged a few quick, flirt words before the waiter danced off, laughing. He sat, both indignant and more than a little stunned into shock and not moving while The Woman texted something furiously into her cell. Finally, she slip gracefully off his lap and let go of his shirt she’d been clenching hard on to and sat down across from him.

“Champagne, Lestrade… Or anything alcoholic that will make you go to La La Land?” She asked, her tone suddenly graceful and – dear god – flirty. And seriously, she’d been threatening Lestrade seconds ago and now she was offering him drinks! He was oh so confused.

He frowned, but remained sitting. “I – look, I didn’t mean for that to happen but… really, the only reason I drank so much that night was because I was new and I was tired, I’m not… I’m not usually like that.” He tried to explain himself quite blatantly, but as usual it came out much more awkward than he’d intended. Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair, mussing it more than it had already been. “So, do I actually owe you money or not?” He really, really hoped she’d been kidding. There was no indication she hadn’t been, but… Really, thirty thousand dollars? For a shag!

[IRENE ADLER]

She smirked as she saw the poor stuttering Lestrade and walked over towards him and caressed his hair. " No you don't silly, and no nothing happened between us" she said as she took out her mobile and flipped through the photographs of that night and set the phone down as she was in her lingerie , in her house and yes that was him in her bed.

But she had not touched, thus she was now her and he was here. She was not that wicked to scar him, though she had fun. A night full of happiness, and now that she had remembered she had not even said her name. Besides that, he did not want to know that she was naked under her long coat. No that would only shock him more.

"You don't need to be ashamed of that night. " she expressed and flicked her fork in the air in a playful manner and set down. Her body sat down once again on his lap, as she liked to tease him. " Am I pushing it to far Lestrade, why are you here dinner. " she asked as she tugged at his collar and chuckled. Her mobile with the voice of Sherlock as the ring tone sounding as she licked her bottom lip and grabbed it from her place and looked it.

She pouted as she did not like Sherlock denying her dinner plans. She also hated his blunt and sometimes brutal actions. Throwing the phone, she started to have a breathing fit as she grabbed one of the wine glasses and found her hand crushing the crystal as she saw the blood pour down from her hand. Her neck cracking as she tried to calm herself and grabbed the table cloth and started to put pressure on her hand.

"Sorry about that."she said in a weak voice and stood up as she stood up and did not sit down. Her eyes looking far away as she stood pensive. No she was not weak, no she was not worried about herself. She just cared about a man, who did not care equally for her. She would never know. Licking the blood from her hand, she took of her heels and looked sideways towards Lestrade, the poor man must think she is going mad.

[GREGORY LESTRADE]

The Woman just smiled knowingly at his complaints, which Lestrade did not appreciate. He did not like being made fun of, not at all. He wanted an answer dammit! She’d never even told him her name. He stiffened as she moved closer to him and started playing with his hair. He tried not to move away too much, but he did duck his head a bit.

“No you don’t, silly,” she said, and Lestrade let out a sigh of relief, sitting a bit straighter. That was a huge respite because really, had she said yes, both of them would be completely out of luck. “And no, nothing happened between us,” she said, answering his question before he could even ask it. He had already knew the answer, in all truth, but still, he wanted to ask. He watched with interest as she flipped her phone open and showed him a picture that she had of him. Sleeping. Completely drunk and sleeping assumedly at what was her room. Lestrade tried not to flush to badly with embarrassment. This was why he didn’t – well, tried not to – drink anymore.

“You don’t need to be ashamed of that night,” she said smoothly, and picked up a fork, fondling it in the air. Lestrade tried not to think about why she was so good at handling the solid object. The Woman sat down in his lap again, smiling; he knew she was just teasing him now, but he didn’t like it any less. Still, he kept him tongue from complaining, at least for a bit. “Am I pushing it too far, Lestrade? Why are you here for dinner?” She asked, pulling the collar of his shirt and breathing a huffy laugh out.

And then, for some reason, before he could answer, Sherlock was there. No, he wasn’t there, of course not, but his voice was. Oh god, did she know Sherlock? Lestrade tried not to think on the possibilities of blackmail Sherlock definitely would take advantage off, did he know of this night. Or did he know already? Ooh, it was too much; this bombardment of strange people in this city was too confusing.

Suddenly The Woman’s face of calm switched punctually to completely angry, and Lestrade barely had time to think about what Sherlock had said to make her make that face before she threw her phone, started to breath wildly – he felt it against him – and grabbed a wine glass so hard it broke in her hand. Lestrade made a startled noise as blood spurted from the newly made cuts on her hand, resisting the urge to stand up. He was oh so confused.

“Sorry about that,” she said, her voice a lot less strong than he’d ever heard it before, and stood, clasping her bleeding hand with the other in a napkin. She was suddenly avoiding letting him get a good look at her face. He might admit to being very startled when she licked the blood from her hand like some kind of animal, tending to her wound; it wasn’t a rough suck on a paper cut either, it was a delicate, fancy lick that somehow fit The Woman terrifyingly so. She looked towards Lestrade carefully, though not turning, her expression both conflicted and questioning.

He stood, taking another napkin off the table himself – the silverware it had been holding clattered noisily onto the table, making even more people stare than before – and walking towards her. He took her hand in his own, the clean napkin between their hands. He took away the already quite bloody napkin and inspected the damage. It didn’t look like too many pieces had stuck in her skin, a few that he could probably get out, if she allowed him to. He looked up at her cautiously. He was starting to think that The Woman’s mental state was not as steady as her income most likely was.

“Can I?” He asked, motioning his hand to indicate taking the glass out. “Or maybe you should go to the ER.” It wasn’t really phrased as a question, the second part, because he had a strong feeling that she would decline a hospital visit if she could. He made a tutting sound with the tip of his tongue against the roof of his mouth, though he immediately regretted it; he hoped he didn’t sound like he was disappointed in her or something, he was just used to making the sound when looking at blood, he supposed.

[IRENE ADLER]

She stood pensive as she saw the poor man react to her reaction. The quick actions that had made her gently fall into her own pool of blood. She growled softly as she started to see him help her with her wound. She was acting like a dog in front of a gentleman. Leaning in , she licked his cheek as she cocked her head. " Your so sweet. Keep me distracted while I pull out the glass . Then I can cry, and weep, and make my self miserable due to his rejection.." she said and paused.

Her breath haggard as she dropped the glass and started to hand her hand over to Lestrade. Her body relaxed as she looked at herself across. Her hand going to her eyes as she found stains of dark eyeliner and mascara when she touched her eyes. A scoff escaped her as she continued to cover her face. " I so wish I could go away from this city and never look back. "she said and started to lower her hand gently and wondered as she analyzed the still stabbed pieces of glass on her hand.

" Can you help me , or stay at least with me for tonight. I don't wish to be alone. Maybe we can drink." she said as she was planning to do so. She wanted to forget the memory that she had been through a few minutes ago. She was suddenly showing a side to a woman who never really showed any sign at all. Everything was so meticulously hidden , and well thought out that only a few who knew her well could see behind the facade.

" So can I entice you to dinner inspector, I don't want to be alone. "she stated and soon found herself looking awkwardly towards the door. The flourish of questions would soon follow. Questions she did not mind answering,every personal matter was met through a new light. A new morning. Her pain and sorrow gave her strength in numbers. But how much could she last if she herself suddenly found her mind going into madness.

[GREGORY LESTRADE]

Lestrade tried not to flinch away as The Woman licked his cheek gently, strangely. It was alien, the behavior, but somehow still managed to seem affectionate. “You’re so sweet,” she cooed, and pretended that ‘sweet’ wasn’t a euphemism for ‘cute.’ “Keep me distracted while I pull out the glass. Then I can cry, and weep, and make myself miserable due to his rejection,” she said, and then slowly, carefully, began to remove the glass from her hand, giving the shards to Lestrade to hold in the napkin in his hand. When the painful deed was mostly done, The Woman wiped her eyes, looking indignant at the silent tears that came away.

“I so wish I could go away from this city and never look back,” she sighed, sounding almost pompous with indignity as she stared at the few remaining pieces of glass still imbedded in her skin. “Can you help me, or stay at least with me for tonight? I don’t wish to be alone. Maybe we can drink,” she said in her lovely voice. Lestrade grimaced, remembering the precise reason that she knew he liked to drink.

Lestrade huffed softly, and leaned forward to gently pull the rest of the glass out of her hand. He placed the bloodied glass back onto the table, hoping the waiter didn’t mind blood. He picked up a cloth napkin and wrapped it nicely around The Woman’s hand, trying it tight, though not so much as to aggravate the cuts. “There we are,” he whispered, smiling for a half second.

“So can I entice you to dinner, Inspector? I don’t want to be alone,” The Woman said, suddenly standing by the door of the restaurant and looking as insecure as Lestrade had ever seen her. A temporary rip in her strong frontage.

Lestrade stood and walked over to where she was, held the door open for her. The waited The Woman had spoken to seemed friendly enough to let them leave without a tab. “Right,” he relented. “Let’s go then.” They left and Lestrade flagged down a cab. He held the door open for her, expecting her to get in. “Well?”

[IRENE ADLER]

She stood up as she looked at the bloody mess and started to follow Lestrade out of the restaurant. Her eyes looking around at the men and women as she smiled and started to see her favorite waiter give her a nod, she knew that he would take care of any unpleasantness that would be in her table.

She looked at the cab as she walked out and then smiled. " Well then lets go" she said and started to board the tiny vehicle as she was used to it by now , all this travelling and going around was sure to make a woman exhausted. But she had a different idea all together. " The name is Irene Adler and I don't usually give it out so you better keep it safe " she said to Lestrade and blinked her eye at him. " So how has dear Holmes been or would you rather know the tale that links us two together" she spoke flat out. The subject was sure to come out at some time and she was sure that Lestrade was at least a bit curious as to why she knew that man.

He stole her heart and he had now broken it. Hmm but a man was only capable of hurting her, yet deeper emotions ran through her heart. Emotions that she had never felt before for any other man. Silly girl things could plague her and yet destroy her. She huffed softly as she took out a cigar and placed it in her mouth and then started to search her bag for a lighter. Well darn it , she had quit smoking for that man, and here she was now even more confused than ever as to where or why she was acting like this. Like a woman at the edge of her own reason. Putting away the cigar, she started to close her purse as she cracked her neck.

" Well ask away and you shall receive answers" she said and crossed her leg as she gripped the horse whip with a little force than before. Yes she was indeed in a little bit of a dilemma one that she knew sex would only fix. " OR we can go bar hopping it would be fun after dinner? " she suggested and gave a wicked smile and bit down her tongue.

[GREGORY LESTRADE]

"Well then lets go," The Woman said as she followed him outside and they climbed into a cab that was probably at all times waiting outside of the fancy restaurant. Once they were inside, she said, "The name is Irene Adler and I don't usually give it out so you better keep it safe." Lestrade nodded and pretended that she wasn't just as unnerving with a name as without. "So how has dear Holmes been or would you rather know the tale that links us two together?" She asked, looking ever so indignant as she took a cigar out, failed to find a lighter and put it away before Lestrade even had time to offer her his own.

"Well ask away and you shall receive answers" she sighed, and Lestrade looked strangely at the whip she had taken from her bag. Right, he really didn't want to know where that had been, at all. "Or we can go bar hopping it would be fun after dinner?" Her question sounded more like a threat than anything. Lestrade looked out the window. Yeah, that was a nice sidewalk. Sure was.

"I'm not really sure what you're talking about," he said nervously, but quite honestly, he didn't. He had no idea why her name was an object of secrecy, or why she was even bringing up one of the Holmes brothers at all; how did she even relate, anyway? "I mean, I didn't even know you know Sherlock. Or Mycroft," he added the second brother a second later after.

Lestrade dug his hand into his pocket and pulled out a lighter, and said, "If you still want one." He held it out in his hand so that she could take it easily if she wanted, but he could easily take it back if she didn't need it anymore. He'd rather her be smoking than deny her request to go for drinks. Which he honestly didn't want to do either, but stalling was a bad - and sometimes useful - habit of his.