A/N I have decided to do my own version of A Scandal In Belgravia. Mainly because I found some of what happened in the original episode to be quite sexist and diminishing of Irene's character that I appreciated from Conan Doyle's original story A Scandal In Bohemia.

Sherlock Holmes, the consulting detective began to regain his logical thinking and his usual pulse as he breathed a sigh of relief. He'd just met face to face with James Moriarty, his new adversary. Moriarty had lured Sherlock to a swimming pool. The swimming pool was where Sherlock's first case started and it was where Sherlock thought it would be his last.

When Sherlock had post on his website for Moriarty to meet him there at midnight Sherlock had thought he would be luring Moriarty there with the promise of top secret missile plans, that Sherlock's brother Mycroft Holmes had tried to have him find. Sherlock thought that Moriarty had, made up puzzles for him to 'dance' so that it would keep Sherlock from investigating his brother's case.

But when Sherlock got to the pool, he came face to face with Dr John Watson. His best friend. His only true friend. Sherlock never felt the human emotions of others or understood them fully or so he told himself but to think for one moment that John could have betrayed him all this time, that John was in fact Moriarty made him feel hurt. But he was relieved when John revealed himself to be strapped with a bomb. Then Sherlock panicked slightly but he forced himself not to show it.

Then Moriarty appeared and revealed himself to be a man whom Sherlock had met before. He was at Saint Barts' Hospital in the laboratory and Molly Hooper the pathologist in the hospital introduced him to be her new boyfriend Jim from the IT department. Sherlock being the way he was, so open and rude and quite clueless to good moral values, and thought he was helping Molly by telling her Jim was gay.

After speaking to Sherlock and John, Moriarty left and Sherlock removed the bomb from John before sliding it away. But Moriarty came back.

"Sorry boys I'm so changeable!" he announced.

Sherlock began to think about what was going to happen next as Moriarty continued to speak.

"It is a weakness of me. But to be fair to myself, it is my only weakness. You can't be allowed to continue. You just can't. I would try to convince you but everything I have to say has already crossed your mind."

Sherlock turned around and pointed the gun he'd brought at Moriarty. "Probably my answer has crossed yours."

Moriarty wore a sadistic smile as Sherlock lowered the gun down so that when he fired it would set the bomb off. Unexpectedly Staying Alive, a song by the Bee Gees began to play. Sherlock looked around confused for a moment, and Moriarty sighed and was somewhat embarrassed. "Do you mind if I get that?"

"Oh no, please. You've got the rest of your life."

"Hello." spoke Moriarty answering it.

Sherlock tried to listen and see who was on the phone to him but he just couldn't tell. "Sorry." mouthed Moriarty to Sherlock.

John was the only one staring on thinking the situation was completely unnatural. "Excuse me?" they heard Moriarty question. "You had an order! Find her and that email now!"

Moriarty looked on to Sherlock and John, holding the phone in his hands. "Sorry, wrong day to die." he sang.

"Did Jim'll fix it get a problem?" asked Sherlock.

"You'll be hearing from me Sherlock."

When Moriarty left John spoke up. "What happened there?"

"Something happened to make him change his mind. Question is what?"

"She went this way! Go!" shouted one of Moriarty's men. The woman they were after hid in a tunnel under the bridge where the men were standing on. When they had gone she walked away thinking that the last of her worries were over. Unfortunately for her they were only just beginning.

Sherlock began to turn his morning newspaper as he tried to find something interesting. John was typing away on his laptop and it somewhat perturbed him. "What are you doing?"

"I am typing up my latest blog entry." replied John.

"Just what would that be?"

"It's about us."

"You mean me."

"Why?" asked John.

"You're typing a lot. Doesn't that explain?"

John just looked at him. The doorbell rang. "Finally. Let's see what we've got." spoke Sherlock.

Sherlock went to see his first client and business for him went on as usual. They'd come. He'd either decline them or solve their mysterious. John would blog about them, and annoy Sherlock because there was one that he'd not solved, and he didn't want anyone to know that he could not solve it. In all honesty he was getting bored. Very bored, as though something was missing from the cases and he ended up finding boredom in every case that came to him, until the fifteenth of September.

Sherlock was in the middle of looking at a crime scene through video conferencing with John when the doorbell rang.

"Shut up!" he shouted to it.

He turned back to talk to John on the webcam as he argued with a detective about the case. Eventually two men in pressed suits came upstairs and turned off the video feed. They put Sherlock's clothes on the desk in front of him and Sherlock took one look at them before turning away. He was in nothing but a bed sheet.

"Please Mr Holmes where you're going you'll want to be dressed."

He turned around and looked at the man who spoke before looking to the other one. He smirked and turned to the man. "I know exactly where I'm going."

John had no idea why but he was being taken into Buckingham Palace on a helicopter. When he got inside he found Sherlock and glanced at him before sitting next to him. He looked around for a moment, as silence filled the entire room. Then he spoke. "Are you wearing any pants?"

"No." replied Sherlock.

There was a long awkward silence before the two of them burst into laughter.

"Buckingham Palace. Right. I'm am seriously fighting an impulse to steal an ashtray." laughed John. "What are we doing here. Sherlock seriously, what?"

"I don't know." replied Sherlock.

"Here to see the queen?"

Suddenly a familiar face stepped into the room. "Oh apparently yes." quipped Sherlock. It was Mycroft his brother. John and Sherlock once more burst into laughter.

"Just once can you two behave like grown ups?"

"We solve crimes I blog about it, and he forgets his pants. I wouldn't hold out too much hope." replied John.

"I was in the middle of a case Mycroft." spoke Sherlock.

"What the hiker and the backfire? I glanced at the police report. Bit obvious surely."

"Transparent." replied Sherlock.

"Time to move on then." replied Mycroft picking up Sherlock's clothes which were on the table.

Sherlock looked at Mycroft holding his clothes and drew him a look. "We are in Buckingham Palace, the very heart of the British nation. Sherlock Holmes put your trousers on!"

"What for?" asked Sherlock.

"Your client." replied Mycroft.

"And my client is..." began Sherlock.

"Illustrious in the extreme." spoke a man, walking into the room. John stood up, as he realised the man was of importance. "And remaining, I have to inform you entirely anonymous."

"Mycroft." the man smiled upon seeing the eldest Holmes brother.

"Harry." smiled Mycroft shaking the man's hand. "May I just apologise for the state of my little brother."

"Full time occupation I imagine." commented Harry before turning to John. "And this must be Dr John Watson. Formerly of the fifth Northumberland Fusiliers."

"Hello yes." replied John shaking his hand.

"My employer is a tremendous fan of your blog."

"Your employer?" asked John.

"Particularly enjoyed the one about the Aluminium Crutch."

"Thank You." replied John before turning to Sherlock and drawing him a look which said "I told you so." It felt good for John to rub that in after all the times Sherlock had slighted his blog.

"And Mr Holmes the younger. You look taller in your photographs."

"I take the precaution of a good coat and a short friend." he replied standing up.

"Mycroft I don't do anonymous clients, I'm used to mystery at one end of my cases, two ends is too much work. Good morning." he told his brother before walking away.

Mycroft stood on Sherlock's sheet. "This is a matter of national importance grow up!"

"Get off my sheet!"

"Or what?"

"Or I'll just walk away."

"I'll let you." replied Mycroft.

"Boys please not here." spoke John.

"Who is my client?" asked Sherlock.

"Take a look at where you are standing and make a deduction. You are to be engaged by the highest in the land. Now for God sakes..." His voice began to get quiet slightly. "Put your clothes on!"

Sherlock had finally decided to put his clothes on. He now sat while Mycroft poured tea. "I'll be mother." commented Mycroft.

"Now there is a childhood in a nutshell."

"My employer has a problem." began Harry.

"A matter has come to light of an extremely delicate and potentially criminal nature. And in this hour of need dear brother your name has arisen."

"Why? You have a police force of sorts. Even a marginally Secret Service. Why come to me?" asked Sherlock.

"People do come to you for help, don't they Mr. Holmes?" asked Harry.

"Hm. Not to date anyone with a navy."

"This is a matter of the highest security and therefore of trust." spoke Mycroft.

"You don't trust your own Secret Service?" asked John.

"Naturally not. They all spy on people for money."

"What do you know about this woman?" asked Mycroft before handing Sherlock a photograph.

"Nothing whatsoever." replied Sherlock looking at the photo.

"I think I've seen her." spoke up John.

"She's very popular in America as novelist. In particular an author who enjoys writing about detectives and how they solve crime. I've never read them myself but they were said by some to be quite complex."

"Complex?" asked Sherlock.

"They went into the fine detail." replied Mycroft.

"Who is she?" asked Sherlock.

"Irene Adler. As a pen name she is called The Woman. Including on her social networking sites."

"A pen name?" questioned Sherlock.

"Some authors have them." replied John.

"I am afraid even I don't understand how an author could be of interest to you." spoke Sherlock.

"Miss Adler is not just an author. She's an author who has potentially incriminating photos. How she gained these photos we do not know." spoke Harry.

"Who is in the photos?" asked Sherlock.

"A CIA agent, Godfrey Norton and a young female person. This female person is a concern to your client."

"I assume this Norton man, and this young female person appear together in these photos and that some of them are even incriminating?"

"Yes." replied Mycroft.

"How many photos are there?"

"A considerable amount apparently."

"Can you help us Mr Holmes?" asked Harry.

"How?"

"Will you take the case?"

"What case? Pay her now and in full."

"She doesn't want money." spoke Mycroft. "She was the one who got in touch, she informed us of the photographs."

"A powerplay. A powerplay with the most powerful family in Britain. Now that is rather courageous for a male novelist never mind a female one. Oh this is getting rather fun."

"Sherlock." scolded John.

"Where is she?" asked Sherlock.

"She's staying here in London. She's currently staying..." began Mycroft.

"Text me the details. I'll be in touch by the end of the day."

"Do you really think you'll have news by then?" asked Harry following Sherlock as he got up to leave.

"No I think I'll have the photographs."

"One can only hope you're as good as you seem to think."

Sherlock drew him a look before analysing him. "I'll need some equipment of course." he spoke.

"Anything that you require I'll have it sent..." began Mycroft

"A box of matches." spoke Sherlock before turning to Harry. "Or your cigarette lighter. Either will do."

"I don't smoke."

"Oh I know you don't but your employer does."

"We have kept a lot of people successfully in the dark about this little fact Mr Holmes."

I am not the commonwealth." he replied.

"And that's about as modest as he gets." spoke John.

"Laterz" spoke Sherlock on the way out.

Irene stood up and made her way to her wardrobe as she looked for something to wear. In his attempt to get Irene on his side, Moriarty had let it slip that she was going to be visited by Sherlock Holmes and John Watson. She walked into her wardrobe and began to look at her clothes.

"Sherlock Holmes. A far more capable detective that the ones I have written. I should love to meet you."

TBC