Disclaimer: I own nothing.

A/N: Inspired by the ending of season 2 and a conversation with my dear friend FicletMistress. SPOILERS for season 2. Enjoy! First in my Catharsis series.

I'm not dead either. Let's have dinner. SH

Sherlock wasn't completely sure what made him decide to send it. Maybe it was just that she was the only one left he could turn to. After all, the world thought she was dead as well, so it was safe. And after visiting his own grave and seeing his unshakeable captain fall apart he needed contact with someone so he didn't go to the one person he missed the most.

His newly acquired phone beeped, the sound harsh and unfamiliar to his ears.

Why hello Mr. Holmes. I wondered when I would hear from you. Dinner sounds lovely. IA

He grabbed his coat.

They chose to meet at her flat. It was still so soon after his supposed death that he was wary about going out in public, even f he was disguised. Of course, she had as much of a reason to hide as he did.

Irene Adler looked different. Granted, such a development was to be expected…but he hadn't thought about it. He wondered if he looked different as well.

They sat in silence for a long while after she ushered him into the flat. For once, he wasn't sure what to say and she was content to appraise him with eyes that sparkled as if she knew all his secrets. Finally she broke the stillness that had settled over them.

"Does anyone else know that you're alive?" The Woman asked quietly.

"No."

Her eyes flashed to his.

"Not even…" she trailed off, but Sherlock knew what she meant.

John.

"No. It's not safe for…anyone to know. The spider may be dead, but the web remains intact," he responded.

"Is that why you did it? To save him?" She wondered aloud.

He gave her a sharp look. "To save them all."

She hummed in response to that, but dropped the subject, gesturing towards the kitchen.

"Shall we have dinner then?"

His slight surprise showed on his face and she laughed.

"Please. If you had meant something other than food by your invitation, I wouldn't have given it to you anyway. But you didn't…and we both know what, or rather, who is the reason for that. So come now. Let's. Have. Dinner."

He smiled.

Dinner was…nice. They talked about nothing that was of any great importance, and for that short period of time, Sherlock's thoughts grew a little lighter. But soon it was over and he knew he needed to return to his solitude. As Irene walked him to the door, her face turned serious.

"I owe you my life, so I'm going to give you some advice. You should tell him," she stated. "I know you think you're protecting him by allowing him to believe that you're dead, but you aren't."

"I am," Sherlock protested.

"No. I'm sure you're aware of how much this affects him. Do you really believe that the pain he's in now is less than any physical pain that anyone could inflict upon him? Because it isn't."

"You can't know that."

She looked at him sadly and shook her head.

"He's in love with you. Losing you is the worst thing that could ever happen to him and right now he believes that has occurred. I'm not telling you to go see him, I agree, that would be foolish. But tell him. He deserves to know."

He turned toward the open door and began to walk through it before stopping in his tracks.

"He loves me?" Sherlock questioned, still facing away from her.

She smiled. "Of course he does."

He nodded. "Goodbye, Miss Adler."

"Goodbye, Mr. Holmes."

As she watched Sherlock Holmes walk out of her life once more, Irene Adler couldn't help but think that John Watson was a very lucky man.

And after a week of reflecting on her parting words, Sherlock decided to send a text.

Some miracles take time, John. –SH

And since he couldn't know how much time it would take, he added:

Wait and see. –SH

Forgive me.

A/N: Review?