→ you're so naive.

[thedominatrix]

Who: Irene Adler, Sherlock Holmes, Mycroft Holmes.
What: Irene plays Jeremy Kyle, or possibly just sits back to watch the carnage.
Where: The Lost Society.
When: Sukkardi night.
Notes: Irene's outfit.
Warnings: ...The Holmes cast. Also, TBA.

Why is she doing this?

Well, because she's bored, and unlike Sherlock, she makes her own fun. (That's something that rather irritates her about him; why roll around on the sofa and whine when you could go out and...well, invite two feuding brothers to the same place at the same time and not inform them beforehand, for instance?)

Perhaps there's a more practical motive- she does actually enjoy talking to both of them in some capacity, after all, and she could probably play it off towards Mycroft as a chance for him to check up on Sherlock ("Well, he wouldn't have come if you'd asked and he does so hate being kidnapped, I'm sure--")...but Sherlock's just going to kill her for it, unless she's very careful to take his side a little more than Mycroft's.

And there will be sides.

Maybe she'll point out that this is better than staring at the ceiling hoping for a murder.

Anyway, if all else fails, the Lost Society does fantastic cocktails, as she has already sampled; having arrived purposefully early she's on her second mint julep, and considering something called The Fruit of 43 Virgins (does she have the self control not to make a joke-- no) if her guests- her boys, as she's begun to rather dangerously call them- don't arrive soon.

She wonders, crossing her legs and surveying her own immaculate nail polish, who will turn up first--

And goes cold.

Oh God, don't let them meet each other on the way in.

Which provokes her to down the rest of her drink, get up and get instantly to work, excuse me, sir, I've got a slightly strange request, but I have utmost faith in you- my guests are each other's surprise, you see, so...

Eyelashes are fluttered, dark chuckles are given and her best femme-fatale smile gets some use. Having been assured that the doorman will attempt to delay any meetings and send them on separate routes to the (delightfully shocking) private corner of the library she's chosen, she sinks back into her chair and regains every ounce of her composure, adjusting a pin in her hair. And she's picked up a Fruit of 43 Virgins on her way.

(It's a little too fruity, but worth it for the name).

Comments

[defenestrations]

The doorman intercepts Sherlock at the door. He isn't surprised; Irene Adler isn't simply going to let him walk straight in to whatever lair she's prepared for the evening.

He's directed, on what he realizes when he arrives is a circuitous route to a private area of the library. She wished to delay him. Why? To gain a few minutes' advantage, he is certain. To have word passed to her that he is en route to her, to have eyes on him to confirm that yes, it is him.

He finds her where he expects to, in a corner, facing the door so no one may approach her without her awareness. She holds a drink--curious, it's not entirely to her tastes, she's doing more holding than sipping, so she must be holding it for another reason.

He stops at a safe respectable distance, hands folded behind his back, and he inclines his head slightly, a suggestion of a bow, a greeting.

"You rang?"