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@nakedinyourmindpalace
OOC:
Omg I should've done this weeks ago. I'm really sorry but I forgot it entirely. Anyway, I moved a couple days ago so if you still want to follow me, here's the link. Basically the same Irene, only with a restarted memory and like ten times more awesome.
Thank you very much for everything! <3
Who Knew? » Pink
When someone said count your blessings now 'fore they're long gone I guess I just didn't know how I was all wrong They knew better Still you said forever And ever Who knew
I'll keep you locked in my head
Until we meet again
Until we
Until we meet again
And I won't forget you my friend
What happened
Night-night.
Trouble Comes Knocking || Jim + Irene
Can you remember your last day in high school? How even those long hallways you used to hate or the gray lockers you couldn’t bare to look at seemed something extraordinary and beautiful? And those little things you loved already, the smell of books and the laugh of your best friend who’s about to move three states away for college, suddenly make a lump in your throat and is as if you couldn’t picture a life without any of this things?
That need of holding tight to the things she loved was the main sensation Irene was enduring right now. That nostalgia you can barely perceive when something is about to end. That craving for seconds to become minutes and minutes in hours and hours in days. She longed to keep on hugging Jim the whole year if possible, to tell him how she could never even start to express how much he helped her in more than one way. But naturally she didn’t know this could be her last chance, and even though Irene was not as most mundanes she decided to act like one and hold her thoughts, unknowingly wasting her only opportunity to say goodbye.
A sound that was halfway between a giggle and a cry sprang from her throat, pressing her arms even tighter around her best friend when feeling his finally on her back. “Oh, I can’t promise that.” Her slightly broken voice was muffled by his shoulder, where she was trying to hide the trace of tears that she didn’t know why she couldn’t hold.
Pressing a second kiss on his cheek, she finally managed to gain enough strenght to push herself away from him, and with a huge smile she asked him to bring whatever was left of butter as she went back to peel the potatoes. She was just about to finish her task when the timer of the oven rang, taking her out of her mind so abruptly she even jumped and the knife went out of its way, making a deep cut on her thumb.
"God dammit." She cursed, more disturbed at the sight of her blood in the potato than by the injury itself. "Can you take the ham out of the oven? I’ll be right back." And not giving a chance for Jim to reply, she left the kitchen in a hurry.
And so, a minute passed…
And another one…
And another one.
Until Irene was gone for half an hour.
And soon, there was no doubt.
The Woman was gone.
How long did Jim wait? How long did he search?
His confusion mixing with so many other wretched emotions as it all fell down to anger and violence in the end. Not at Adler but at the world and the unknown force that would dare to take her away from him. As if it’s sole purpose was to torture James in the way of bringing people into his life only to take them away in a mundane way that was parallel to saying goodnight to someone who was never to be heard of again.
Moriarty knew nothing about his violence would logically bring him any closer to Irene. Everyone who was missing was still gone and not coming back. But why did it have to take her?
Finally Jim left the house that was once Irene’s unable to bare the sight of it, unable to stop himself from sobbing in silent tears as he went back to the fire station. Knowing that was the last he’d seen of The Woman. There was no hope for him to disappear from this world and be where Irene was, either way the gauntlet fell, and that’s what likely hurt the worst.
"Goodbye, Miss Adler. I hope you are at home safely." Moriarty said as he entered the fire station, wiping the final reminder of his tears on his sleeve. For once he wanted everyone else’s hope to be founded, for her sake, that something good was left in the world and she was alive somewhere. Anywhere safe.
Don't go where I can't follow!
J.R.R. Tolkien, The Two Towers
The Woman who disappeared
Trouble Comes Knocking || Jim + Irene
"I’ll be fine." Moriarty repeated as he closed his eyes to her affections, unsure of what else to say to this. His arms wanted something to do worthwhile and meaningful to make Irene realize he appreciated, no loved her, even if there was no way it could be returned in the way he wanted. Instead nothing came and he let his hands stay where they were and only smiled at her with eyes that dying, but perhaps not by her hand alone.
Jim’s mind was a scrambled mess since he arrived and finally he realized it was all wrong to pursue Irene as anything other than a friend. It was because he knew her in a frightening parallel to another person in his memory fractured head that he was likely so very much in need of her everytime he saw her. But in a way he liked how close it made him to the real Woman even if he didn’t know why he originally wanted her.
It meant he wasn’t wanting her because of Sherlock Holmes, and that was beautiful.
"As long as you’re around I can breath a bit easier. But don’t act like such a mum…" Moriarty smiled sheepishly, trying to hide his eyes as he found them softening. Finally raising his arms up to hug her tightly, honestly.
Can you remember your last day in high school? How even those long hallways you used to hate or the gray lockers you couldn't bare to look at seemed something extraordinary and beautiful? And those little things you loved already, the smell of books and the laugh of your best friend who's about to move three states away for college, suddenly make a lump in your throat and is as if you couldn't picture a life without any of this things?
That need of holding tight to the things she loved was the main sensation Irene was enduring right now. That nostalgia you can barely perceive when something is about to end. That craving for seconds to become minutes and minutes in hours and hours in days. She longed to keep on hugging Jim the whole year if possible, to tell him how she could never even start to express how much he helped her in more than one way. But naturally she didn't know this could be her last chance, and even though Irene was not as most mundanes she decided to act like one and hold her thoughts, unknowingly wasting her only opportunity to say goodbye.
A sound that was halfway between a giggle and a cry sprang from her throat, pressing her arms even tighter around her best friend when feeling his finally on her back. "Oh, I can't promise that." Her slightly broken voice was muffled by his shoulder, where she was trying to hide the trace of tears that she didn't know why she couldn't hold.
Pressing a second kiss on his cheek, she finally managed to gain enough strenght to push herself away from him, and with a huge smile she asked him to bring whatever was left of butter as she went back to peel the potatoes. She was just about to finish her task when the timer of the oven rang, taking her out of her mind so abruptly she even jumped and the knife went out of its way, making a deep cut on her thumb.
"God dammit." She cursed, more disturbed at the sight of her blood in the potato than by the injury itself. "Can you take the ham out of the oven? I'll be right back." And not giving a chance for Jim to reply, she left the kitchen in a hurry.
And so, a minute passed...
And another one...
And another one.
Until Irene was gone for half an hour.
And soon, there was no doubt.
The Woman was gone.
Irene consults Jim for outfit advice before her encounter with Sherlock.
As it turns out, she doesn’t need it.
Trouble Comes Knocking || Jim + Irene
Moriarty looked down suddenly, wary and perhaps sad. “He won’t be? How sad. I suppose… He will miss a good meal.”
The criminal didn’t speak anymore about it simply went to the refrigerator and pulled out the apple juice and gathered up two glasses. “Juice will be fine. Beggars can’t be choosers. This place is trying to destroy us after all. I just want to live… Ironically, I have found that I have gained a willpower now.”
He poured two equally tall glasses of the amber liquid before going to give Irene one of her own. Jim then silently drank from his own, staring at the floor again. He was suddenly thinking about the two things he hated to think about the least: Sherlock and his suicide.
What could Irene do besides bite her lips and focus entirely on her task at Jim’s revelation? The criminal’s little desire to live was not new for her, but though she did expect this new resolution, she just didn’t think it’d be just now when it’d come. It was a few seconds until she finally put her knife down and sighed, looking down as well, unsure of what to say. How could she guarantee that things would be okay? Even with her husband’s disappearance, she was still afraid. Sherlock had done a pretty good job with that. Was there anything she could say to comfort Jim?
No, there probably wasn’t. No words, at least, so she only choose to repeat the one thing that seemed to work in the past. She held him tight, pressing one hand on his nape and the other between his shoulder blades as she breathed deeply. “You will be fine my dear. I’ll make sure of it as long as I’m around.” She promised and pressed a tender, long kiss on his temple.
Trouble Comes Knocking || Jim + Irene
Jim smiled broadly, toothily as he glanced up to her from the bird’s beak knife. Being missed was a great thing, right? It was rare but becoming more and more of a thing for the consultant criminal. Being wanted or something akin to the sensation. “I missed you too, Irene. I enjoy your company.”
Moriarty took a generous handful of grapes and poured them into the top of the blender with a soft sound of the fruit already inside. “I am glad to come after all… and I promise not to make Trevor cry too awfully. Unless he gives me a love and peace speech. But so far he sees content to consider me an anti-karma wagon.”
Jim shrugged and did a twirl of his own, and bowed dramatically, “May I get your drink request, young miss?”
Though it probably shouldn’t, Irene felt a deep relief at Jim’s words. He did enjoy her company, even despite what she made him go through. Her weary eyes made its best to study his body language when doing as she requested and tried to find any sign that showed he was lying, but when nothing made Irene actually believe he was playing her, she smiled softly.
At his twirl, she just couldn’t help but laugh in that melodic way that told she was happy for real, it was the one thing she could never fake. "Oh some wine would be lovely. But I'm afraid apple juice is all that's left unless you want to drink water." She smiled, pointing at the refrigerator with her chin.
After pouring some water with the pinneaple and grapes and blending it all together, she moved back to the stove to turn off the fire beneath the potatoes and put them in a plate. It was when she was getting rid of its skin that she let away something that she probably shouldn't.
"I'm living with Sherlock now. Don't worry though, he won't be back in a few hours."
“Don’t we forgive everything of a lover? We forgive selfishness, desire, guile. As long as we are the motive for it…”
Trouble Comes Knocking || Jim + Irene
Jim’s eyes rolled in his head, either way he did as she wanted, but argued, “I’m not saying he’s up to something. I’m saying he’s far too sunshine and flowers to not be covering a pile of shit. Like he must have some fun, juicy story.”
Moriarty lathered his hands with soap and water as he hummed softly to himself. Somehow this was far more relaxing than he imagined that it would be on his way over here. He forgot how pleasant it was around Irene but soon enough Jim was wondering why he even tried to stay away from her. Coming back to her side, James grabbed a bird’s beak knife as he took the grape bunches in hand. Silence falling over him as he turned his attention to a new task that involved the blade, secretly happy to be holding a knife for any reason honestly.
Pursing her lips slightly and straightening her back as she pulled away from the plate in which she had just been working on, Irene seemed to think Jim's conclusion about Trevor. What else could make her look so concentrated at the moment? Well, her attention was actually focused in the slices of pineapple, just making sure they were not too big or too small.
Once she was satisfied, she moved her eyes back to her friend and replied at last. "Well, that does sound like something feasible... still, try not to pick the poor guy, dear. Some secrets should remain secret."
As she floated to the dishwasher to grab the blender, it was a little more noticeable that perhaps it was not only cooking what put her in such a good mood. The impersonal, stylish house now seemed way more cozy than the last time Jim came, and even Irene herself seemed to glow.
"You know what? I really missed you, Jim." She confessed with a small smile as she put the pineapple inside the blender, offering it to him next as if asking him to pour inside the grapes.
Trouble Comes Knocking || Jim + Irene
Jim grimaced, “Indeed, they certainly sit on a high horse. I would love to at least see the hippie take a tumble. He’s just so … perfect. I think he’s hiding the biggest mess of anyone here.”
The criminal watched his hostess busy herself, “Why else would he never have been mentioned before? Did Sherlock ever mention the guy? He’s a sneaky one. If I’ve never heard of him … “
Now he had a new mystery to solve, this would occupy him for quite some time, especially considering that the only way to solve it in this world would be to see Lucifer’s files or ask him. “Your ham smells delightful, by the way. What might I help you with?”
Irene was basically flying around the kitchen with the kind of gracefulness one would have just when enjoying entirely the music you're dancing to, but stopped in the middle of her choreography when listening to Jim.
"Oh please, you can't seriously think he's behind anything, do you?" She smiled, holding down a small laugh. "I don't believe he's the brightest person around, but I don't think he's trying to hurt anyone either."
Next, she grabbed a knife and went back to the pineapple, slicing it in small pieces. "First things first. Wash your hands, then you can help me peel the grapes." She ordered, not taking her eyes away from her task. Singer, chef, dancer, fashion designer... there were so many things she could have done if her luck had been a little different.
"Wait for me to come home."
together and apart: one of the many fascinating things about a scandal in belgravia is the “choreography” between irene adler and sherlock holmes. in all their scenes, they are engaged in a dance — stepping forward, pulling back, going past, turning, following, encircling — locked in each other’s orbit, yet refusing to be bogged down by gravity. it’s an indication of what they are (mirrors), what they could be (partners), and what they can never have (constancy).
//Sort of Random thingy
Apparently this special connection thing we had going on was broken before it ever really began, love.
Oh really? Well that's a shame indeed. Silly me.
Missed me?
I always mean what I say, you’re a beautiful woman, there’s nothing wrong with stating facts.
I’ve just come back, trying to figure out everything, essentially. Hoping that there’s a clear solution on the horizon.
Oh if that's the case, feel free of not holding back. A little flatterly will never hurt.
Anyway, if there's anything I can do, you know where to find me. If not, then good luck captain.
