msadlerthewoman-blog

[msadlerthewoman-blog]

more icons and they are still not mine

[msadlerthewoman-blog]

More icons, still not mine

[msadlerthewoman-blog]

Icons, not mine

[msadlerthewoman-blog]

[msadlerthewoman-blog]

[msadlerthewoman-blog]

[msadlerthewoman-blog]

[msadlerthewoman-blog]

[msadlerthewoman-blog]

Reblog if you're a Sherlock Rper

And I’ll put you in a big Sherlock role player master list on this blog , this will be a good place to promote you and your blog and will act as a directory. Original characters welcome.

[msadlerthewoman-blog]

"And if I seem dangerous, would you be scared?"

[msadlerthewoman-blog]

Send me a Symbol

✉: For a regular text message from my muse.

♣: Here, have a not so regular (maybe even a dirty one) text message.

✍: For what my muse has written about yours in their diary.

✎: For an unsent letter from my muse (May be AU if you want, just let me know what kind of AU you want).

☎: For a drunk phone call.

☏: How about a voice message from my muse?

♥: The favorites of my muse- can be anything from music to sex positions, you're allowed to specify what you want.

∞: A random headcanon about my muse and yours.

☯: Here, have a hug from my muse.

☮: An argument I think my muse would have with yours.

♪: I've put all of my songs on shuffle- now I have to write a drabble involving our muses with the next song that comes on.

♬: Would you care to dance? My muse has to dance with yours.

♛: My muse is royalty for a day and you are their loyal subject- wait, what? What would my muse's reaction be to this idea?

♚: You are my master- hold on. What if my muse was the loyal subject, how would this go?

✖: Your muse is drowning in the bathtub when mine walks into the bathroom.

☠: Your muse has died, this is how mine reacts.

❂: My muse is clumsy and crashes into yours.

✈: Our muses are on a plane together, by accident or choice. This is what happens.

☢: It's too hot outside, how does my muse suggest our muses cool down?

ϟ: There's a storm going on and our muses are stuck together in a house- how will this go?

☂: It's pouring down and your muse forgot their umbrella, will my muse offer up theirs?

✧: Our muses went to eat out- where?

★: The stars are shining beautifully and my muse wants you to see them.

☾: It's in the middle of the night and my muse had a nightmare about yours- what does my muse do?

☼: The sun is shining bright and your muse got the bright idea of going out, does my muse agree with this?

☄: My muse is lost, luckily there is cellphone reception- does my muse dare to call yours for help?

♤: Our muses are playing a game, which kind and who is winning?

☻: Your muse got sunburnt, my muse didn't- how'd it happen and how'll mine help?

♒: Our muses are at the beach together, by accident or not, and yours was a bit too close to the waves- will my muse laugh or perhaps be helpful?

♦: Your muse asked mine to marry them, what's my muse's reaction?

◊: Your muse comes to mine, crying, how does my muse react?

✘: Scars aren't very pretty- my muse has to show you theirs.

✦: My muse was attacked but yours saved them- how'll my muse ever thank them?

[msadlerthewoman-blog]

At about question number 13 of 20 questions with the steward, Irene was about to come unglued. Regretting scotch as it was some horrible off brand, the stewards had mentioned that the first officer sometimes had a bottle of Talkiser on him. Irene didn't ask why but asked if it was possible to have a nip. The steward, helpful as ever went off to speak with the pilot and left Irene in blissful silence. Looking out the window at the Atlantic Ocean below, she wondered what would be waiting for her in London. Safe house? Armed escorts? Some crappy flat?

Death. There was only death waiting for her in London and she knew it. There was no escaping Moriarty. Once he got his hooks into you, he never let go. She wondered in what capacity he would keep her in or move her to. Prostitution? Information or just killed? She had caused him significant trouble not to mention she nearly killed Nick. Damn, why did it have to be him? 

Wiping a tear she supposed that going out young was what she always knew would happen to her. Children, retirement, wrinkles... these were things that happened to other people, normal people. Irene had never imagined her life to be so mundane.

At the sound of a door, Irene looked up and watched as the first officer walked towards her. Sitting across from her at the table, he smiled.

"Had enough of the swill we have available, have you?" 

"I've had tap water less offensive."

"I happen to have a bottle of Talisker whiskey available for purchase. Say, 200 pounds?"

Irene lifted her eyebrows. Talisker was not too far off the mark that amount of coin, but still.... she could haggle on the price, but it was more important to Irene to be drunk on it.

"Deal." She inclined her head and watched as the first officer, rose. A slightly surprised look melt into a smarmy smile. "Very well. Madam has made a wise choice."

"Could you have Captain Crieff bring it to me, please?" Irene handed him the money, "I'd like a word if possible."

Taking the cash the first officer nodded and turned for the flight deck. Shortly a red faced Martin appeared with a bottle and a glass. She asked him to sit and watched as he fumbled with the items.

"Captain Crieff," Irene started.

"Oh.... Please, call me.. Martin." He smiled, blushing horribly. Irene smiled at him.

"Very well then, Martin... did either one of your brothers tell you anything that was going on regarding my return to London?"

Martin shook his head, "No, Mycroft said that the less I know the better." He shrugged. "15 years ago I would have pressed him, now I don't bother. Honestly I don't think I would want to know."

Irene nodded. The one Holmes brother that felt relieved NOT to know the answer to a riddle.

"Then I won't say anything either." She nodded, looking down. 

"Listen, if if if if you are in some sort of ... trouble...." He stopped talking, fumbling for something to say.

"I appreciate it Martin. Thank you." She smiled. "Sorry for having bothered you."

"Are you alright?" He asked, concerned.

"I think I might be murdered." She said quietly, cracking open the bottle and pouring herself a glass, taking a drink. It was excellent. 

Smiling nervously she poured another glass. Rising from his seat he kept his eyes on her.

"I...."

"There is nothing to say, Martin. It's... I'm used to it." she replied grimly. "Really, it'll be okay."

"I... I have to get back to the flight desk but... once we've landed, if you.. if you like to talk..."

"I expect that there will be someone there to pick me up, otherwise I'd like that." She smiled at him. Returning the smile, which reminded her of Sherlock, he further reddened and stumbled back to the flight deck.

Quietly Irene got drunk. Martin must have kept Arthur in the flight deck because Carolyn, the owner, came round twice to check up on her. When Martin's voice came across the intercom informing her they were diverting to land in Shannon Airport in Ireland due to a system malfunction, Irene was frankly surprised. Looking around she realized she had nodded off and someone had wrapped her up in a blanket.

Douglas came back to inform her there had been an instrument malfunction and they were getting hotel rooms as the techs wouldn't be back til morning. Nodding Irene stood, stretched and retrieved her things and awaited instruction. Martin came out next followed by Arthur, looking super excited.

"This is just BRILLIANT!" Arthur exclaimed. Carolyn ran out after them.

"Code Red Arthur." She announced, pulling him to the side, giving an apologetic look to Irene. Martin must have said something. Irene smiled back and looked to Martin.

"So, Captain Crieff, you expect me to believe that this is an instrument malfunction? If you wanted to have dinner with me all you had to do was ask." Martin reddened to a shade she did not know was possible and began stammering, much to the amusement of Douglas the first officer. Threading her arm in his she smiled, feeling a bit like her cheeky old self.

***

Safely in her hotel room, Irene showered and got ready for bed. Surprised that she had not received any messages from Sherlock, she was tempted to send one to him. Picking up her phone to start texting, there was a knock at her door. Looking up, she put the phone down and reached for her gun. A fortunate thing flying with the charter airline was lax security. Checking the peep hole, Irene was surprised to find Martin standing there in the hall. Their dinner had gone well, though the rest of the crew came to the same restaurant and sat four tables away.

Opening the door she smiled.

"Martin, this is a surprise. What can I do for you?" 

"I... " he stammered, looking at her before walking up and kissing her.

Irene was shocked but found herself returning the kiss. If she was going to die... breaking the kiss, she looked up at him.

"Captain." She smiled, surprised. 

"I wanted to do that before going to bed." He grinned. Looking down for a moment, the smile faded. "Are you sure that..."

"The less you know Martin. Trust me." She held up her finger, placing it on his lips. He looked startled, then smiled. 

It was awfully tempting, she thought of letting him in. Both to her room and in her head but it would endanger him. As it was he could be in a heap of trouble already. Mycroft endangered him hiring his outfit. 

"Good night, Captain Crieff." She stood on tip toe and kissed his lips chastely and closed the door on him.

Standing for a moment, she took a breath and locked the door. He reminded her of Sherlock and that was not fair to Martin. Turning off the lights, she crawled in bed, trying to enjoy her possible last night on earth.

The Big Apple

[msadlerthewoman-blog]

Unbeknownst to Sherlock Holmes and Irene Adler, Mycroft Holmes is having them kept under surveillance as they work together to dismantle Moriarty’s network — and is seeing far more than he cares to in the process.

[msadlerthewoman-blog]

Pausing in front of Luke to accept his kisses as well, she walked into the cottage to change clothing. Standing in the bedroom she realized that what few clothes she had left were not conducive to rooting around in the dirt. 

"I hate to ask..." She said coming out of the bedroom in her jeans, boots and bra, "But do one of you have a tshirt that I can borrow? I don't seem to have much in the way of work clothes." She said it without emotion.  

Dressed, she waited for the boys to be ready before they left the cottage to walk over to ... the spot. It was a cool evening and she shivered slightly as they walked. Quickly she saw the burnt out hull of the house and shop. Her step faltering for a moment, she felt like she was going to be sick. Taking a moment, she pressed on. 

"Evening Ms. Adler. I've... very sorry bout your loss." The Detective Inspector, a kindly older man by the name of Barnes, addressed her as she walked up. "I was just going to head over to the cottage to come see you."

"Thought I'd save you the trouble." She said shaking his hand, "Tell me what happened, please Detective Inspector." 

"It's too early to tell Irene. We have some tests that we need to run and we are  still coming through the wreckage." He paused for a moment before handing over a cardboard box. "This is, uh... what we've been able to find."

Taking the box she looked at the Detective Inspector blankly. 

"Go home Irene, get some sleep." The inspector said kindly.

"I don't have a home Detective Inspector." She replied, looking at the wreckage.

Walking forward she walked through to the back garden, sitting on one of the stones in the midst of blackened flowers. In her mind she could see the house clearly, feel the smoothed wood beneath her hands, her the creek of boards and knowing where they sat in the floors. 

Gone. All gone.

Looking up she watched her boys watch her. Where were they going to go? Where were they going to live? She failed them, somehow this was her fault.

Looking down, she reached out for a piece of painted wood. It was from the railing outside. She recognized that shade of lavender. Her hair started to stand on end. Looking over the wood it didn't seem different from the rest of the pile. A little less burned. 

Paul Tomlinson and Emily Brody

Irene closed her eyes and watched them walk up around and after finding the hidden key, into her home. She felt sick all over again as she watched them throw around gasoline. before touching the place and running.

"Maybe next time freaks like them will do as they are told." She heard Tomlinson say.

Gasping, Irene dropped the wood and stood up. Instinctively she looked at Luke. He was more magickally active then Nicholas, who was just starting on the path. She wondered if he saw the same thing.

And like that, Irene was pulled from Depression and into the stage of Anger.

AU!Verse! // Life in the Country: Nick's Holiday in Surrey // Nicholas Benson & Irene Adler

[msadlerthewoman-blog]

Clutching her phone to her chest, Irene had her back to the door, waiting for something.

*Ding*

Biting her lip she replied.

I'm scared - IA

*Ding*

She chuckled. 

I'm out of practice, running for my life - IA

There was a knock at the door. Looking at her phone she waited.

*Ding*

Knock Knock.

Sighing, she opened the door a crack, keeping it between her and the person on the other side.

"Yes?"

"Ms. Devine? Officer Rose, NYPD, can I come in ma'am?"

Opening the door wider, she stayed on the back side of the door, allowing the police officer into her room. Looking at him, she closed the door behind him. And folded her arms nervously.

"Is.. is he... gone?" She swallowed.

"We've taken him into custody. He says he's a visitor to the states."

"Yes, I'm sure he is, on a fake passport or something. He was a thug back in London. I'm sure if you contacted the authorities at New Scotland Yard they would be only to happy to take him off your hands."

The officer looked at her for a long minute. 

"And you, are you a citizen or a visitor?"

"I became a citizen when I left the UK to get away from him a little over a year ago." She replied. "I have my credentials."

"Yes please."

Irene fished into her backpack for her wallet and produced her Maryland driver's license.

"So what are you doing in New York?" The officer asked copying down her information.

"May I sit?" She asked, still shaking. The officer nodded. "I'm in town to attend the opera tonight. Well, was. I don't feel like it now." She took a deep breath. "Officer, when I moved, here I was put into protective custody to escape him. I testified against him at a hearing in exchange for a new start. I have no idea how he found me. My name in the UK was Irene Adler."

Taking another deep breath, her phone beeped, making her jump slightly. Looking down at the text, she looked up at the police officer.

"Would you like me to give you the number of the detectives from my reassignment?"

The Police officer nodded.

"And if it is all the same to you, can I give you my phone number and move hotels? He knows I'm in this room, he'll make bail in a few hours and he will kill me."  The detective looked at her and thought, "Here are the number of Detective Anthea Barton and Detective Inspector Mycroft Holmes." She copied their numbers down and handed the paper to the detective. 

The detective took them and excused himself to make a couple of phone calls. Irene's phone buzzed.

Are you sure it'll work? - IA

*Ding*

Irene chuckled quietly. Glancing at her backpack, she took another fortifying breath.

Yes. Safely stowed and ready. - IA

"Ms. Adler?" Irene looked up at the mention of her real name, the detective came back and smiled a soft smile.

"Well, everything looks in order. By law we can hold him for 24 hours before being eligible for release. So long as you provide me with your cell phone number or another number I can reach you at, I see no reason why you can't leave."

Letting out a breath, Irene smiled and began to cry.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you."

"Detective Inspector Holmes briefed me on your situation and is sending over your file-" This time his phone went off. He spent several minutes looking at it, flipping though something. "Good God." He looked up. "He did this to you?" 

Looking at the photographs she realized it was from the car accident the year before. Turning from the pictures, she nodded, covering her mouth.

"He was so angry when I refused to have a baby with him. He told me he would knock sense into me. He rammed a car he stole into my car when I was out with a friend. I thank God it happened near Bart Hospital." She bit her lip.

"Okay, okay there. Deep breaths. I have some paperwork I need you to fill out and then we can leave you alone."

Irene nodded and took the papers. Reading over it, it was a lot bureaucratic red tape, but she navigated it as well as she could, signing the papers, she passed them back to the detective along with her number.

"He can't know where I am going, if one of you know, then he will, I know this man. He probably has surveillance equipment, illegal listening devices and at least one gun on him."

"Yes Detective Inspector Holmes informed us he is part of an underworld family." Irene nodded, "And that you testified against him for a bombing." She nodded again. "Detective Inspector Holmes requests that you call him at once. He is very concerned for your safety."

"Yes, I will do that right now, thank you Detective Rowe." She took out her mobile and began typing in the number that was for DI Holmes, as Detective Rose handed her his card.

"If you need anything ma'am, please let me know. We'll be in touch." and excused himself from the room.

Two rings then the phone was answered.

"Detective Inspector Holmes." Came the silken voice of Mycroft Holmes. Never before had she been so pleased to hear his voice. 

"Detective Inspector, this is Irene Adler." She paused. "I'm in trouble."

"So I hear, Ms. Adler. In all honesty you're lucky to still be alive, Nicholas Benson was sent to retrieve you or end you, we are not sure."

"End me is most likely." Irene began shaking again."

"It's time to come home Irene. I can't protect you across the pond."

Irene was shocked.

"I thought.... you couldn't...."

"Little brothers can be .... persuasive. It is thought that the whole.... ordeal.... would be better on British soil. Here we stand a chance to covering that which needs to be covered and disposing of what needs to be disposed of. How quickly can you get to Airport. I've secured a small charter jet was in town to bring you home. Take only your backpack. We will take care of you when you return."

Irene hesitated. 

"I'll be dead if Jim knows I'm back."

"No." Was his only reply.

"I can be there in under an hour."

"When you arrive, ask for the charter terminal. There ask for MJN Air and Captain Martin Crieff. They will bring you back. If you are not there in an hour and thirty minutes they are instructed to call the police and declare you kidnapped. Are you ready?"

"Yes." She said smally. "What about... little brothers."

"Oh, don't worry about him. He is fine right now. I'm making the call now Ms. Adler. The countdown starts, now."

Irene hung up the phone and grabbed her bag, throwing open the door she ran down the stairwell and out the front door of the hotel. It was early evening. She'd be in the first aria of the opera had Nick fucking Benson not screwed things up again. 

Managing to hail a taxi, she made her way quickly to the airport again and made it to the charter terminal. There sat a ginger man in a cpatian's suit, no, there sat Sherlock in a captain's suit.

"Sh...Sherlock?"

THe man looked up.

"No, Martin, I'm a half brother to Sherlock and Mycroft. You..You must be Ms. Adler. Right...right this way." He stammered. shaking her hand. Leading her out to the decrepit old plane, Irene winced.

"She steadier than she looks."

"I'm sorry I didn't know there was another brother..."

"It's okay, Sherlock especially like to keep me safe by not speaking of me. But we're all on good terms, honestly." He smiled a nervous smile. This was Mycroft's idea of a rescue?

The First Officer at least knew what he was doing, as did the owner of the plane, who was along for the ride. The steward was sweet but very happy and talkative. When he found out that this was a job for one of Martin's brothers, the Steward, Arthur kept wanting to know if she was a spy lady, or if she worked for the government brother.

Irene sighed. This was going to be a long flight. 

The Big Apple

[msadlerthewoman-blog]

Sniffling as she straightened up, she looked up at Nicholas and nodded her head. 

"Thank you darling," Her voice was rough from sobbing and she was a wreck, but she needed to do one thing still, "Before dinner... I need to see it. I need to go and try to retrieve anything I can." She wanted to do this before eating, she was afraid she'd be sick afterwards.

"I don't have to go alone, I know you wouldn't want me to be on my own. But if you want to start dinner, Luke and I can walk over. I just... I need to see it."

AU!Verse! // Life in the Country: Nick's Holiday in Surrey // Nicholas Benson & Irene Adler

[msadlerthewoman-blog]

Taking a deep breath now that she was in her room, she sent a text message to Sherlock.

In room - IA

*Ding*

"Fuck." She swore under her breath softly, who was this guy?

What should I do?" -IA

She waited impatiently, looking around as if he could see her right now.

*Ding*

Irene read the message and was both horrified and delighted.

Where to? - IA

*Ding*

Make sense.

If you think your phone is compromised... -IA

*Ding*

Oh, thank God for Mycroft.

Can Mycroft get me out of here? Protect me? -IA

Of course not. Bastard. At least he was helping, even if it was to get to Moriarty. It was ever so much fun to be bait.

Opening her bags, she changed into her jeans and t-shirt and a pair of trainers. Letting her hair down, she instead braided it and pinned up differently. Taking her carry on backpack, she packed it with her laptop, laptop cord, cell charger, two shirts, some underwear and her most basic of toiletries. Her wallet was pushed in to the very bottom but her credit cards, IDs and cash were in her pockets. 

She felt nervous and was shaking. She hated feeling this way and planned that whoever this was was going to regret having come after her.

*Ding*

Picking up her phone she felt even sicker.

Okay. Making call right now. - IA

Setting the backpack to the side, she called emergency services.

"My name is Madeline Devine," she whispered to the police dispatcher, "Please, I'm at the Commodore hotel on 21st. I'm in room 325, I just found out my exboyfriend checked in to room 322. We've been broken up for several years but he... he's abusive and I have a restraining order out on him and now I am terrified to leave my hotel room." Irene broke out into not so fake tears. "Please he's followed me to another hotel yesterday. I thought I got rid of him today checking out, but he some how found me. And, he's armed. Please hurry. I'm afraid for my life."

"Stay on the line ma'am, police will respond immediately. Stay on the line with me in the even he comes after you." The woman remained calm and professional as she dispatched five squad cars to the hotel. While she waited, the took a piece of gum, chewed it and covered the people hole with it, then took a towel and rolled it up, stuffing it under the door.

"Ma'am, police are on the scene. Stand by. An officer will want to speak with you once he has been placed into custody."

"Thank you." She said, sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for the knock.

*Ding*

Irene looked at her phone, as the dispatcher was talking to police, there was one in each stairwell and one at the elevators and four at the door. Reading the text she nodded to the phone.

Okay, I won't. - IA

"POLICE! OPEN UP!" She heard down the hallway.

*Ding*

Irene looked at the photo message from Sherlock and felt like she had been punched in the gut. The man following her was Nick.

The Big Apple