The door was closed quickly and immediately behind her, a sharp click sounding as the deadbolt was turned and slid into place. She had been taking that precaution on her own for a long time, but now it was even more important, what with two people on the run encased in the hotel suite. All the security in the world and then more might well be appropriate for holing them up and away from the public eye.
His request wasn't lost on her, nor was his observation - the verbal one, most specifically. There was no question about Sherlock's ability to see a dozen things with one glance, and that was if he wasn't trying. Of course her hair color would be noticed, and of course he'd come here with a purpose of finding her for a reason other than making known that he noticed it.
Irene lifted her chin a fraction of an inch, then tilted her head to the side to regard him more completely. He was thinner than she last remembered, and he had been thin to begin with. Now, though, there was a darker shade of shadow around his cheekbones and a hollowness beneath his eyes. Neither of these things was exactly surprising, given he'd been presumed dead for the past while, but they were still changes.
"Changed the shade to auburn," she said, responding to his remark first, without the gun leaving her hand. Her hair color had changed almost with the continent, either by wig or dye, but the deep auburn shade was the product of the latter. It was easy enough to maintain, and something she didn't mind. The blonde, however, had been a mistake of six months ago - but that was for another time.
"A dead man comes to my door asking for identity documents. However did I get so lucky?"
There's her familiar wit and charm laced in with the words, but she can't hide the wonder - and admittedly, the relief - in her eyes. He's alive. It's all she can do to not close the distance between them, to touch the pad of her finger to the sharp angle of his jawline. To let her truly realize he is here.
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2014-04-10 12:47 am (UTC)The door was closed quickly and immediately behind her, a sharp click sounding as the deadbolt was turned and slid into place. She had been taking that precaution on her own for a long time, but now it was even more important, what with two people on the run encased in the hotel suite. All the security in the world and then more might well be appropriate for holing them up and away from the public eye.
His request wasn't lost on her, nor was his observation - the verbal one, most specifically. There was no question about Sherlock's ability to see a dozen things with one glance, and that was if he wasn't trying. Of course her hair color would be noticed, and of course he'd come here with a purpose of finding her for a reason other than making known that he noticed it.
Irene lifted her chin a fraction of an inch, then tilted her head to the side to regard him more completely. He was thinner than she last remembered, and he had been thin to begin with. Now, though, there was a darker shade of shadow around his cheekbones and a hollowness beneath his eyes. Neither of these things was exactly surprising, given he'd been presumed dead for the past while, but they were still changes.
"Changed the shade to auburn," she said, responding to his remark first, without the gun leaving her hand. Her hair color had changed almost with the continent, either by wig or dye, but the deep auburn shade was the product of the latter. It was easy enough to maintain, and something she didn't mind. The blonde, however, had been a mistake of six months ago - but that was for another time.
"A dead man comes to my door asking for identity documents. However did I get so lucky?"
There's her familiar wit and charm laced in with the words, but she can't hide the wonder - and admittedly, the relief - in her eyes. He's alive. It's all she can do to not close the distance between them, to touch the pad of her finger to the sharp angle of his jawline. To let her truly realize he is here.