Disclaimer: I have a cat and a room full of books. Almost everything else belongs to someone else. Recognisable characters, TV shows, movies, etc belong to their creators (in some cases otherwise known as god), producers, directors, etc.

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Encounters With The Woman.

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Or

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The Five Times John Watson Almost Met Irene Adler

And The First Time He Did.

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One...

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It takes Sherlock rummaging around in John's coat pockets for him to realise that there was something he should have noticed. Nothing's missing, but two things have been added.

The first thing is a piece of string.

"Wool actually." Sherlock gave him a 'are you really that stupid' look. John's getting used to that look, "Real wool, hand spun. Knitted into an object, taken apart and then glued to something else."

"So… someone put hair from a child's toy into my pocket?" He resignedly put his phone into Sherlock's out stretched hand, waiting for him to finish texting, "Have you got a theory how it got in my coat? Or why?"

Sherlock has taken the other thing, peering at it.

"Pomegranate," He held it up to the light, showing John the lollypop, "With a mint centre."

The bright green surrounded by the even brighter pink sparks a memory. .. Of a scarlet coloured cloche hat and a green stone pendant.

"There was a woman," John frowned, "In the street; we bumped into each other…"

Sherlock grinned. "Irene Adler likes things that belong to rich men and detests children being murdered. The wool is from the head of the doll that belonged to Grace Weston."

Sherlock threw a newspaper at him. The headline proclaimed 'Heirlooms Stolen'.

"You think Sir Davenport killed a six year old girl?"

"No." The 'stupid look' was back, "I know his lawyer did it. The items Miss Adler… appropriated... were kept in the lawyer's office, in the safe. Where he is also keeping the doll. As a trophy."

John nodded, taking his phone from Sherlock's hand. "Does she do that often?"

"Do what?"

"Drop things in other people's pockets for you to find?"

"No…" Sherlock twirled the lollypop between his fingers, "Not often."

"And the lollypop?"

"I'm… not sure…"

"I thought you knew the reason behind everything."

"Miss Adler is not everything."

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Two…

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The woman almost knocks John off his feet, running past him down the stairs to reach the door. It's one of the times John wishes he still used a cane, just so he could trip people up.

Sherlock's in the flat, barely. He's leaning half way out a window, yelling at someone on the street.

"Bring those back! You little-"

John leans not nearly as far out the window. The woman; who'd been running down the stairs, turned and looked up.

Irene Adler has an amused smile on her face, the same green pendant around her neck and a pair of Sherlock's scarfs in her hand. So that's where they keep going.

She waved the scarves in the air, yelling. "Another time Dr. Watson." And struck a flirtatious, teasing pose for Sherlock's benefit, "I always hide them in the same place darling. If you can find it, you can get them back."

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Three…

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John sat back, rubbing at his eyes.

Sally Donavan did the same, pausing the footage from the security tape. "'Bout time for a break anyway. We should see how the Inspector and your… colleague… are doing."

"He's probably got it all figured out." John opened the door for her, "Waiting to see if we mere mortals can work it out for ourselves."

"Unless the Inspector's strangled him…" Sally gave him a nasty sort of smile, "We would've heard it if he'd shot him."

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They can hear Sherlock yelling inside Lestrade's office.

"The theft had nothing to do with the murder!"

"Five thousand! Taken from the dead man's office. Most would call that motive."

"Most people are not me-"

"Thank goodness for that." Sally murmured.

"-The theft was opportunistic, enacted by a young woman. The Murderer is a slightly older man, the nightclub owner's ex-lover. It is not a crime of passion though; he's been planning it for a long time, you'll find that the murder weapon is a bottle of extremely poor quality vodka. Hidden in the air vent at the back of the store room."

"So who's the young woman? The one who stole the money?"

"Irene Adler."

Sally rolled her eyes. "Figment of his bloody imagination, he means."

"Why?" John frowned.

"She doesn't exist. We've found Rena Adley's, Ilene Adler's and Irene Addison's. None of them match the description he's given us." Sally shrugged, "He pulls her out every now and then, like a drug induced hallucination."

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John limped back to the room where they'd been watching the security tape footage. Sally followed him with a frown. The good doctor rarely limped these days, but when he did…

"Are you ok?"

"Fine." His attention is back on the grainy, blurry, but strangely, coloured images. They'd been expecting black and white.

It's an hour before he sees it. "There." He pauses the tape, pointing at the blob of colour on a form emerging from the owner's office, "She was there…"

"Who was there?" Sally squinted at the TV, as if it would make the picture clearer, "How can you tell anything on these bloody tapes?"

"Right height, right build, right necklace," John tapped the screen, "That's Irene Adler."

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Four…

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The invitations had been delivered by Mycroft's secretary.

Two tickets to a charity event for the Honourable Sherlock Holmes (plus one) and Dr. John Watson (plus one).

Sherlock had resisted going until John announced he was taking Sarah and wouldn't it be a lovely to have an evening uninterrupted by Sherlock. Who arrived in a tux he didn't have to rent and without a plus one. And promptly alienated every other person there.

Sarah excuses herself, stating a need to refresh her makeup.

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"I've annoyed her."

"Yes, you have."

"If we hadn't been here, she would have slapped me."

"Probably."

"Mycroft would not have been happy."

"Good thing she left then."

"Not really. Annoying Mycroft would have made my day."

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"Have you seen who Sherlock's dancing with?" Sarah passed John a glass of champagne, as a small peace offering.

"Sherlock dances?" John's not sure if he believes her, taking the drink with a 'you left me alone with him' expression, "I wouldn't have thought dance steps were important enough to remember?"

"He doesn't, but I don't think it matters to her." Sarah held up her phone, showing John the photo she'd taken. Sherlock tripping over his own feet and Irene Adler, looking poised and regal,
"For your blog?"

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Five…

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Mrs Hudson waved a cup of tea in front of John's nose. "What are you doing down here?" She produced a plate of biscuits, "If you've misplaced your key dear, Sherlock could've let you in."

"He's a little… occupied, Mrs Hudson."

A loud breathy moan reached the bottom of the stairs.

Mrs Hudson went bright pink.

"Yes… uh… Sher- oh!"

John went the same shade of pink as Mrs Hudson. And stood suddenly, opening the front door. "I've remembered that I need to do some shopping Mrs Hudson… Was there anything that you needed?"

"YES…uh… oh g-d!"

"Let me get my purse." She hurried into her own flat.

"Uuuh… SHERLOCK!"

"Perhaps we'll take a walk in the park first Mrs Hudson?"

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First.

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"Dr. Watson? ...It's Andrea Sato from St Bart's A&E. One of your patients was admitted in a serious, but stable condition."

"Which patient?" John grabbed his jacket.

"A Rena Adley."

John stopped. "I don't know any Rena Adley's."

"She has one of your cards…"

"You said that she's stable?" John found his keys, "What sort of injuries does she have?"

"She's dehydrated, there's bruising to her face, a couple of broken fingers, respiratory infection and a burn that's infected."

"What sort of burn?"

"It looks like a branding that went bad; we get those sometimes, it's usually some kind of symbol, but this one looks like two letters; J and M. It's pretty bad."

"What sort of personal effects does she have with her?" He'd given a few cards to Sherlock's irregulars; she might be one of them.

"Not much, it's all pretty dirty. And torn or broken. She's going to have to get new everything." Andrea hmm-ed, "This scarf is spotless… And monogrammed… S.H…"

John stopped, the door hitting his heels.

I-Rena Adley-r… J… M… S.H on a spotless scarf…

"Put her in a private room and don't let anyone in unless it's absolutely necessary. I'll be there as soon as I can."

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Lestrade nodded at a room across the corridor. "That's really Holmes' mysterious Irene Adler?"

"Yes." John was watching the same room, "Sherlock's mysterious Moriaty had her locked in a cellar."

"Where he broke her fingers and put a brand on her?"

"I think it's the Arch Nemesis' version of hair pulling."

"That's a scary thought." Lestrade sighed, "How's he taking it?"

"However a high functioning sociopath deals with these things." John shrugged, "Did you know she steals his scarves?"

"More hair pulling?" Lestrade almost managed a smile.

"One-up man… woman-ship. It confuses him."

"Sherlock doesn't get confused. He gets…"

"Called a freak, flirted with and tried to be made more human. She doesn't do that. It confuses him."

"So, she's his… friend?"

John gave him a dry look. "With benefits."

Lestrade's attention shot back to where Sherlock Holmes was alone with Irene Adler.

"I thought…" Lestrade was starting to look a bit flustered.

"Told me he was married to his job."

"…Um…Moriaty…?"

"Does not appreciate Sherlock's attention on other things."

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Irene Adler looks too thin and too pale to be real. She's asleep; thanks to a mild sedative, and Sherlock hasn't left her side since he arrived at the hospital.

"I'll need your gun." He might have been asking for a cup of tea. "Even you shouldn't have to ask why."

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Continued...

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Author's note: Thank you to the people who took the time to beta this for me. Especially kaazei, who is wonderful.