(Alice’s POV: )

 Sometime later, Sherlock had dressed and was sitting on the sofa again beside John with me on his other side. Mycroft and Harry sat on the opposite sofa. Mycroft was pouring tea from a teapot. Following the old-fashioned superstition that only one person in the household should pour the tea, and that person was ‘being mother’, he looked at the equerry and smiled.

 “I’ll be mother.” He said his mood improving.

 “And there is a whole childhood in a nutshell.” Sherlock said pointedly. I looked down at my lap to hide my smirk. Mycroft glowered at him, and then put the teapot down. Harry looked at Sherlock.

 “My employer has a problem.” He began.

 “A matter has come to light of an extremely delicate and potentially criminal nature, and in this hour of need, dear brother, your name has arisen.” Mycroft explained.

 “Why? You have a police force of sorts, even a marginally Secret Service. Why come to me?” Sherlock asked pretentiously.

 “People do come to you for help, don’t they, Mr. Holmes?” Harry questioned.

 “Not, to date, anyone with a Navy.”Sherlock answered, glancing at me.

 “This is a matter of the highest security, and therefore of trust.” Mycroft claimed.

 “You don’t trust your own Secret Service?” John asked. I fought back a sigh.

 “Naturally not. They all spy on people for money.” Mycroft said, as if it was obvious, which it was. John bit back a smile.

 “I do think we have a timetable.” Harry commented.

 “Yes, of course. Um...” Mycroft replied. He opened his briefcase, taking out a glossy photograph and handing it to Sherlock. John and I leaned in to look at it. “What do you know about this woman?” Mycroft asked.

 “Nothing whatsoever.” Sherlock said, looking over the picture, his eyes half-open.

 “Then you should be paying more attention.” Mycroft informed.  “She’s been at the centre of two political scandals in the last year, and recently ended the marriage of a prominent novelist by having an affair with both participants separately.” Mycroft continued.

 “You know I don’t concern myself with trivia. Who is she?” Sherlock said, still sounding bored.

 “Irene Adler, professionally known as The Woman.” Mycroft revealed. As soon as I heard the name I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose. John glanced at me worriedly and Sherlock made it seem as though he was ignoring my reaction.

 “Professionally?” John asked, looking back to Mycroft.

 “There are many names for what she does. She prefers ‘dominatrix’.” Mycroft answered.

 “Dominatrix.” John repeated thoughtfully.

 “Don’t be alarmed. It’s to do with sex.” Mycroft said. I unconsciously blushed.

 “Sex doesn’t alarm me.” Sherlock declared.

 “How would you know?” Mycroft said, smiling snidely at his brother. Sherlock raised his head and stared at his brother. “She provides – shall we say – recreational scolding for those who enjoy that sort of thing and are prepared to pay for it.” He continued, taking more photographs from his briefcase and handing them to Sherlock. “These are all from her website.” Sherlock took the photographs and leafed through them. They were professional-looking publicity shots for her ‘services’ and showed Irene at her glamorous and sexy best. I scowled in disgust and leaned away from Sherlock, looking anywhere but at the humans in the room.

 “And I assume this Adler woman has some compromising photographs.” Sherlock guessed.

 “You’re very quick, Mr. Holmes.” Harry complimented.

 “Hardly a difficult deduction. Photographs of whom?” Sherlock replied dryly, putting the pictures down. I turned my head back to Mycroft and Harry.

 “A person of significance to my employer. We’d prefer not to say any more at this time.” Harry said cryptically. Glaring at him angrily, Sherlock put the photographs down on the table.

 “You can’t tell us anything?” John asked, mainly so that Sherlock would not lash out.

 “I can tell you it’s a young person.” Mycroft admitted. I sighed again. John drank from his teacup. “A young female person.” Mycroft added. John’s eyes widened. Sherlock smirked and I wrinkled my nose.

 “How many photographs?” Sherlock asked.

 “A considerable number, apparently.” Mycroft replied.

 “Do Miss Adler and this young female person appear in these photographs together?” Sherlock asked again.

 “Yes, they do.” Mycroft answered.

 “And I assume in a number of compromising scenarios.” Sherlock continued.

 “An imaginative range, we are assured.” Mycroft confirmed. I tried not to think about it. Without looking round at him, Sherlock realized that John was staring blankly at Mycroft with his teacup still half raised.

 “John, you might want to put that cup back in your saucer now.” Sherlock offered. John quickly did as he was advised.

 “Can you help us, Mr. Holmes?” Harry asked.

 “How?” Sherlock asked.

 “Will you take the case?” He clarified.

 “What case? Pay her, now and in full. As Miss Adler remarks in her masthead, ‘Know when you are beaten’.” Sherlock replied, signalling for me to get up, he turned and reached for his overcoat, which was draped on the back of the sofa.

 “She doesn’t want anything.” Mycroft said. Sherlock turned back towards him and I stood with my hands in my coat pockets. “She got in touch, she informed us that the photographs existed, she indicated that she had no intention to use them to extort either money or favour.” Mycroft explained.

 “Oh, a power play. A power play with the most powerful family in Britain. Now that is a dominatrix. Ooh, this is getting rather fun, isn’t it?” Sherlock said, interested for the first time. I had to admit, that had caught my attention.

 “Sherlock...” John warned.

 “Hmm.” Sherlock turned around and reached for his coat again. “Where is she?” He asked.

 “Uh, in London currently. She’s staying...” Mycroft began to answer. Not waiting for him to finish, Sherlock picked up his coat, stood and started to walk away.

 “Text me the details. I’ll be in touch by the end of the day.” Sherlock commanded. I walked in front of the three sitting men to Sherlock’s side. The three got to their feet.

 “Do you really think you’ll have news by then?” Harry asked.

 “No, I think I’ll have the photographs.” Sherlock answered, turning back to face him.

 “One can only hope you’re as good as you seem to think.” He added hopefully. Sherlock looked at him sharply, indignant that he should doubt him. He glanced down his body, obviously making deductions I had already known. Dog Lover, Public School, Horse Rider, Early Riser, and Left Side of Bed. His eyes rose again as he continued: Non-Smoker, Father Half Welsh, Keen Reader, and Tea Drinker. Sherlock looked across to Mycroft.

 “I’ll need some equipment, of course.”  Sherlock informed him.

 “Anything you require. I’ll have it sent to...” Mycroft began, but was once again cut off.

 “Can I have a box of matches?” Sherlock interrupted. He was looking at Harry as he spoke.

 “I’m sorry?”  He asked.

 “Or your cigarette lighter. Either will do.” Sherlock added, holding out his hand expectantly.

 “I don’t smoke.” The equerry said, offended.

 “No, I know you don’t, but your employer does.” Sherlock said, sounding smug. After a pause during which John frowned in puzzlement, the equerry reached into his pocket and took out a lighter which he handed to Sherlock.

 “We have kept a lot of people successfully in the dark about this little fact, Mr. Holmes.” Harry cautioned.

 “I’m not the Commonwealth.” Sherlock answered, taking the lighter and putting it into his trouser pocket, he turned away.

 “And that’s as modest as he gets. Pleasure to meet you.” John said sarcastically to Harry. I smiled and turned after Sherlock, John following me. In an Estuary English accent, not sounding the ‘t’ in the word, Sherlock shouted,

 “Laters!” John threw an apologetic glance over his shoulder as we left.

Not long after that, we were all in a taxi.

“Okay, the smoking. How did you know?” John asked. I opened my mouth to explain, but Sherlock smiled briefly and shook his head. I smirked and sat back in my seat next to John.

 “The evidence was right under your nose, John. As ever, you see but do not observe.” Sherlock explained.

 “Observe what?” John asked. Sherlock reached into his coat.

 “The ashtray.” Sherlock said, pulling out a glass ashtray with an intricate design. John and I laughed with delight as Sherlock tossed the ashtray into the air, catching it and tucking it back into his coat, chuckling. I turned my head and thought I saw camera pointing at us through the next car, but the car drove away before I could get a good look. I dismissed it as a tourist.

Okay, two chapter update today cos I like updating =) Enjoy, vote, comment fun peoples!!