[ for elementarysaidhe; Islamabad ]

Karachi was far behind now.

It had taken six hours (or had it?) to escape, with a massacre of bodies left in their wake. The way Sherlock Holmes had handled a blade surprised Irene Adler, but not as much as his appearing behind her shoulder. The disguise of her executioner was astonishing enough.

There hadn't been time to think about why he had come for her, only time to run. She had watched his eyes, pupils blown wide in the semidarkness. All around her came the chants in a language she didn't understand, a blend of foreign tongues clicking together, all calling for her death. The blade had sung in the air behind her, and then Sherlock spun away to attack those would attack her. While the terrorist cell was armed, they weren't prepared.

That had been their downfall.

Now Islamabad was their solace, at least for the time being. Clouds had loomed overhead and thunder had bellowed its presence, but rain had yet to come. Irene had waited while Sherlock secured their accommodations for the night. The gauzy black veil was stripped away from her face with her right hand, then twisted around the fingers of her left before dropping away into the gutter. Fabric swathed her head and she tugged that down as well, night air catching in her long, dark hair. A tremor rushed through her fingers, and it wasn't from the stiff breeze outside.

For all her strength and bravado, Irene Adler is not invincible. Without her protection, the booby-trapped camera phone with state and government secrets by the multitudes tucked away in its files, the rage of her enemies had come chasing after her like the hounds themselves.

How very strange that her rescuer would be the last man she had deceived.