"When did you get here exactly?" John inquired as he handed Irene a mug of coffee. She set it down without a glance at it.
"Last night while the two of you were out," She said with a wicked smile playing about her lips. "Have a nice date?"
"We don't go on dates," John replied back a little more heated than he had intended. Irene smirked and curled up in Sherlock's chair.
"Whatever you say, Dr. Watson," she cooed as she picked up the mug and wrapped her read-nailed fingers around it.
John opened his mouth to argue further but knew he would only be playing a losing game. There was a reason Sherlock had an odd fascination with this woman and he was starting to understand it.
"Right. Where is Sherlock by the way?" He realized that Sherlock wasn't around and glanced around for any indication of where he might have gone.
"Outside," Irene said pointedly, "smoking."
"What? Oh no," John slumped his shoulders as he grabbed his coat. "Why is he smoking? He was doing so well."
John galloped down the stairs and out to the front of 221B Baker Street. Sherlock was neither left nor right of the door, but John caught a billow of smoke from around the corner. He sighed heavily and approached Sherlock, ready to confront or console.
"Morning," Sherlock exhaled a cloud of both smoke and his breath into the cool air.
"Sherlock, what are you doing?"
"Smoking."
"Yes, but why. Did Irene say or do something?"
Sherlock did not answer which meant that she had said or done something. One of the odd effects that Irene Adler had on Sherlock Holmes was the strange way in which she could strike him speechless. John stood there in silence with his flat mate until the cigarette was finished.
"I have something to do, John."
"What is it?"
"Personal. Be back this evening. Maybe."
"Sherlock –"
Sherlock waved down a cab and got in without another word. John almost pushed his way in, but thought leaving Irene alone in the flat would be unwise. Defeated, he returned upstairs to confront The Woman.
"What did you do?" John stood in front of the chair, blocking her from standing. She looked started at first, but her usual haughty expression replaced it quickly.
"I just told him a little bit about his family." Irene flipped her phone over in her hand, smiling up at John. He narrowed his eyes and sat down across from her in his chair.
"What about his family," John knew this was none of his business, but besides Mycroft he knew nothing about Sherlock's family. He was shamefully curious.
"I told him who his father was," Irene tapped her phone a few times then handed it over to John who took it hesitantly. His eyes scanned over the document on the small screen until they locked upon the name. His eyes wide, John looked away from the screen over into the fireplace. The name of Sherlock Holmes's biological father still burning in his mind.