Sherlock could talk exceedingly well when he chose, and that evening he managed to engage Lord Grantham on a quick succession of subjects. Edith watched the spectacle with interest, seeing her father relax as the evening went on, but there was something about Sherlock that didn't seem quite right. The joviality never reached his eyes and he quickly excused himself as soon as they finished eating. As he shut the door to his room, Sherlock was vaguely aware that Edith might not like being left alone with her father – middle child complex – but admittedly he had been using dinner as an excuse to ignore the dilemma that had arisen that morning. Robert Crawley hadn't just been paying a social call. No, it was a matter of 'utmost delicacy and trust', as Mycroft had put it.

"We've sort of been threatened," Robert had begun.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Sort of? Have you been threatened, or haven't you?"

"They've received a series of compromising photographs, dear brother."

"And the sender?"

"Miss Irene Adler. There are many names for what she does, but she prefers dominatrix." Mycroft slowly put his tea-cup down and pulled out a couple of photos of the woman from his briefcase, handing them to Sherlock, who shuffled through them quickly. "Don't be alarmed, little brother, it has to do with sex."

"Sex doesn't alarm me." Sherlock retorted, immediately cursing himself as his brother raised an eyebrow. "So this Adler woman, what does she want? Money?"

"Nothing." Robert joined back in. "She just wrote and told us that she has the photographs, that she will keep them, but won't use them for any reason."

"Ah, power play!"

Robert sat forward, "Mr Holmes, I don't think you quite understand the delicacy of this situation. Alongside my daughter is a prominent Turkish diplomat who, well, he died shortly after the photographs were taken."

"How shortly after?" Sherlock watched the horror and embarrassment dance over Robert's face, and he noticed how Mycroft even leant back in the chair and looked in his teacup. "Oh. Well, it looks like Miss Adler has won this round."

"Sherlock, we need you to get those photographs back." Mycroft insisted.

"Why?" Sherlock shot back.

"With the wedding coming up, I don't want anything to jeopardise her happiness again. And this! It would cause the biggest scandal the Crawley family has seen in years!" Sherlock and Mycroft looked at each other, but Robert continued, "Is Edith here? I should like to talk to her."

"She's still asleep. We had a rather late night."

"Oh." Sherlock regretted his comment from earlier even more, with the way Robert was now looking at him.

"Perhaps Lord Grantham would like to join you for dinner? My brother does enjoy entertaining." Robert brightened at Mycroft's suggestion. "Say Six O'clock."

And thus he had ended up shut in his room, as restless as a newly caged animal. If he had been thinking on a purely professional level, he would probably have turned the whole thing down, but then there was Edith… Sherlock held detachment from his cases as a survival instinct, but on this he was already compromised. He didn't know whether to tell Edith or not. Sherlock grunted. For all he knew Robert could be telling Edith everything already. Then how would she react? Would she be hurt that he hadn't told her first? Or was it best to come from her family? He ran his hands through his hair. It was weird enough him disappearing like this, but he didn't know what course of action to take. He sat down on the bed, and promptly stood back up again. Action. He would go and see the woman. If he got the photos, it would be an added bonus. He opened the door and almost crashed into Edith who was standing there.

"Hey. Dad's gone. He wanted to thank you, but I told him you were thinking. Are you okay? You vanished pretty quickly after dinner."

"I am. I'm just going out for a bit."

"Oh. Okay." Admittedly Edith was a bit upset of this dismissal. Their kiss was still in the forefront of her mind, yet it was obvious that Sherlock was focused on something else. "Anything I can help with?"

He smiled at her then. "Not this time." And with that he left the apartment.

~X~

Edith was curled up watching Jane Austen's Emma when there was a commotion on the stairs and then a knock on the door. She paused the film and got up to find Sherlock, completely out of it, being propped up by Lestrade.

"Found him like it when we got called to a shooting. He hasn't been making much sense."

"Oh! Get him to bed." She moved to help the inspector. They got Sherlock into his room and Edith managed to get his shoes off so he could lie down more comfortably.

"Just keep an eye on him so he doesn't choke on his own vomit."

"Lestrade, was it a case or…"

Looking into her eyes, Greg knew he couldn't lie to her. His expression turned serious – it had all been funny up to that point. "I hope so. We found him at the house of a woman – Irene Adler. She's a… well, she's a bit scandalous." Edith just nodded, trying to digest this new information. Lestrade regarded her for a second and turned to leave.

"Thank you. For getting him home. And for telling me."

He smiled at her, trying to offer some little comfort. "Goodnight."

She shut the door after him and turned back to check on Sherlock. He was asleep, but she moved her laptop into his room, and took her headphones with her. Sure enough, after only half an hour Sherlock woke up and fell out of the bed.

"Steady." She set her laptop aside and moved over to where he was now sitting. "You alright?"

"How did I get here?" He mumbled.

"You don't remember much, huh? Lestrade brought you home."

"What about the woman?"

"What woman?" Edith fought to keep her voice even.

"The woman woman!" He was trying to look round the room, and nearly fell over again.

"Hey, no. You need to rest." She tried shepherding him towards the bed, without much success. "For God's sake!" She put an arm round his waist, and guided him, this time without any resistance. "Sleep, you be fine in the morning."

"I am fine!" He whined back. "Absolutely fine."

"Sure. I'll be in the other room if you need me."

"Of course I need you."

"Goodnight Sherlock." She gathered her stuff together and left him to rest. Back in her own room, she let the tears fall. Everything had been so perfect! She felt it was her own fault, believing he was truly interested. Out of spite, she opened her laptop back up and looked up Irene Adler…

~X~

"So, have you got the photographs?" Mycroft asked Sherlock over breakfast the following morning.

"No, but they are perfectly safe."

"With Miss Irene Adler?"

"Oh, the fugitive sex worker?" Edith walked through to the kitchen. She didn't want Sherlock to notice how puffy her eyes were, although Mycroft had probably already noticed. "What about her?"

Sherlock closed his eyes. He had been hoping to keep Edith in the dark for a bit longer. Either he must have said something last night, or she still didn't know about the connection to her sister.

"She has some photographs of…"

"No one important." Sherlock interrupted his brother. "How do you know of her?"

"You know, she's been involved in some pretty major scandals." She flicked the kettle on.

"Why are you two lying to each other?" Mycroft asked after the lapse in conversation became noticeable. He would have continued, but his phone stopped him. "Excuse me. Hello?"

Sherlock stood up and walked over to Edith, who was just adding the boiling water to her tea.

"Edith?"

"Don't," she sniffed. "I know you spent the evening there." He caught her arm, as she tried to move away from him.

"Because your father hired me to retrieve some photographs of your sister. I didn't want to tell you because I didn't want you to worry." Edith looked up at him for the first time. "You're crying?"

"Photographs?"

"Yes. Of Mary."

Edith scoffed. "More like the ones she took with Pamuk, I bet!"

"What?"

"Bond Air is go, that's decided. Check with the Coventry lot. Talk later."

"What else does she have?" Now that Edith knew, at least he could really question his brother. "Irene Adler. The Americans wouldn't be interested in her for a couple of compromising photographs. There's more. Much more. Something big is coming, isn't it?"

"Irene Adler is no longer any concern of yours. From now on, you will stay out of this."

"Oh will I?"

"Yes Sherlock. You will. If not for my sake, for hers." Mycroft looked over to Edith. Sherlock followed his brother's gaze and his stomach dropped at how vulnerable she looked. "Now, if you'll excuse me."

As Mycroft left, Sherlock deliberately moved over to the sofa, sat down and gestured for Edith to sit next to him. Hesitantly she did. He placed an arm round her shoulders and kissed the top of her head.

"Thank you for looking after me last night."

Edith nodded, "that's okay."

"But Edith, how did you know about the photographs?"

"Oh, it was years ago…" Sherlock hummed in response, encouraging her to continue. "I was snooping around in Mary's things. I wanted to get back at her for something, and I found them. I confronted her about it. She made it very clear that I was never to tell anyone, but she had been working for someone. Seducing politicians, journalists, diplomats just to get whatever information she could. And there were always photos. She kept copies of everything. I know she wasn't meant to, and I'm guessing now it was Irene Adler that she was working for.

TBC...

Thank you to Thymelady, RosesInJamJars, shana. rose, zcvoknout, AnnaAgatha, Countessoftelly, valentina's sorrows, my two lovely guests and everyone who is still following. :)

Major apologies for the two year (!) delay. All I can say is sorry and that I hope you enjoy this chapter.