Just a little chapter before I post the last 2 or 3 chapters. I might not post another one for a day or so as I'm pretty busy this weekend, but it will get finished sometime this week!

Sherlock's room was small and looked untouched. Compared to the previous room, there was no clutter, no decoration (if you called knives and skulls decoration, that is) just the necessities; a bed and a wardrobe. Irene looked around but did not take in her surroundings much. She was busier thinking about where he could've got to and the stupid mess he'd get into with Moriarty. Mrs Hudson broke her contemplation.

"I've phoned John, he'll be back soon. His girlfriend, Sarah, will lend you some nightclothes." Irene nodded and Mrs Hudson wished her a goodnight, though she knew it was far from it.

John didn't take long to arrive at Baker Street, though he found Irene asleep on the bed. She woke up when she heard his footsteps in the room.

"Here. Sarah said they might be a bit big for you, but they'll do." He placed a carrier bag of clothes on the bed. Irene noticed that he didn't look happy with her.

"I don't need them. D'you have a phone?" John nodded and chucked the phone into her waiting hands. She skimmed through the contact list until she found Sherlock's number and rang, waiting impatiently.

No answer. She huffed.

"Can you track his phone?"

"No. I don't think so. Have you tried texting? He doesn't like talking on the phone." Irene shook her head and fumbled around with the buttons, typing out a messy text.

Where are you?

Irene.

"Tell me if he replies." She threw the phone to John and began to bite her nails nervously.

He ignored her, "What did you do, Irene?"

She took a deep breath and slowly started to recollect the story to him. He listened intently, but neither looked each other in the eye. It was a while before anyone talked again.

"How about you get some sleep and I'll wake you if I here anything from him?" He asked, unsure of what her answer would be.

"Okay." Irene replied, though she had no intention of sleeping.

The sound of the phone made them both jump out of their skin. It was a text.

"What does it say?" She almost jumped up at John, who had already read the message, "Come on, read it out."

She snatched the phone off him impatiently; he didn't struggle.

Two men found shouting at each other about top secret information, murder and a girl in Russell Sqr Gdns. Not anything to do with you, is it? Sending back-up now.

Lestrade

"Who?"

"It doesn't matter," He replied quickly, getting up to leave the room, "I need to go. Before he does something stupid." The two of them raced out to the main room, "I'll be back later."

"Well, I'm going too."

"Oh no you're not." He said, pulling on his coat, "Don't you think you've caused enough trouble, Irene? He'll get himself killed because you were so immature as to agreeing to spy for Moriarty. Just, stay here. I'll get Mrs Hudson to see to you."

He left before she could even argue.

She paced the room, occasionally looking out the window for any sign of them. What had she done? John was right, she was immature. Immature and stupid. She thought about what life would be like if she had never met any of them. Boring. Quiet. Unnecessary. But she liked that. Too late now, she thought.

Without thinking, she grabbed her coat and made her way for the stairs. The landlady stopped her in her tracks.

"John said you weren't supposed to leave, Miss Adler." Irene gritted her teeth. Idiot of a man, she thought. She moved past the woman.

"It's urgent, sorry."

"Well, I was just about to bring you some tea and biscuits, dear." She said to Irene who again apologised profusely.

"Sorry, Mrs Hudson, I really, really need to be going. Maybe when I get back though?" If I get back, she thought.