Love Is A Much More Vicious Motivator

[James 'Jim' Moriarty]

Well, this was something, wasn't it? Looking at the picture on the newpaper page, Moriarty placed it on his desk beside another one. It had an image of the same woman on the front page. Irene Adler. Or, as she was now known as, Violet Holmes. The fact she had chosen his enemy's name for a false identity made Moriarty scowl. And it was obvious that she had taken a false identity. Past events ruled out any other option. She had gotten in contact with the consulting criminal for advice, he had told her how to manipulate the Holmes brothers, disrupted Mycroft's anti-terrorist operation, then...poof. Irene Adler had disappeared. He had heard that she was killed by a terrorist cell.

But apparently it was otherwise. She was an actress now. The first paper was about her arrival in London. Apparently the fans had gone wild. The second story was about one of Sherlock's cases, in which Irene had been the target of a shooting. But she survived. Moriarty wasn't sure if that had been one of his operatives. He'd have to run it by Moran. His sharpshooter was always someone he could depend on for reliable records when he wasn't sure himself.

Now though, Moriarty had decided to get to the bottom of things. Good God, that sounded like a cheesy Sherlock line. Anyway. He had had one of his agents track down Irene and find out her patterns. And today the spider was going to make a move. His phone bleeped and he read the text. A few minutes later he was driving off in a stolen taxi, heading for the location of the actress' rehearsal. No doubt she would need a lift back to wherever she was staying. And his people were going to make sure that he was the only taxi on this street.

[Irene Adler]

After the rehersal of the theater play, she had gone to rest in her personal room, rather it was a room that each actor had to test their texts, but rather was a relaxation room where Irene had everything she could need. It was a comfortable place, books, tables, chairs and leather couches. Irene was where most time spent in the theater, in that room because she had everything she needed

It had been a long afternoon, she had finished her work, hoping to get some rest before going to the hotel to rest, since her encounter with Sherlock, she could not stop thinking about him at all times. What she felt for him was not sex, it was able to snatch his virginity. It was something deeper, more loyal and faithful. Yes it was love, what she felt for Sherlock Holmes. Something not banned anyone would know, just ... the person that was involved, although he ... not even care.

Irene sighed and after having taken a shower and put more comfortable with a white silk gown she wore her sleek body. She poured herself a whiskey and took 'The Canterbury Tales' which had often read as a child. She sighed deeply and sat in a leather recliner, to rest a bit before returning to the hotel.

"Miss Adler a man wants to talk to you"

So tired Irene left her book aside and looked at the girl with narrowed eyes without relying too. The only person who could be was ... Sherlock!. "Tell him he can go, Miss please. If I have luck I will attend to it right away, because I have a desire to spend this afternoon in a quiet and alone"