The next morning she was woken by Sherlock clapping his hands above her head. She jerked up, automatically going to chop her assailant in the neck only to have it blocked and her wrist taken hold of by a grumpy Sherlock.

'Get off my sofa.'

'Why should I?' She continued to lay down on the sofa, merely crossing her arms over chest and raising an eyebrow.

'You don't even live here!' He growled.

'Good point.' The voice of Mycroft came through from her kitchen as he popped his head round, smiling coldly at the two of them. 'Izzy, we need to talk.' She nodded compliantly, the soldier in her coming out, moving into the kitchen and speaking in a hush with Mycroft.

…

A few minutes later John had made everyone coffee which no one had touched, and Sherlock and Mycroft were in a stand off. 'The photographs are perfectly safe.' Sherlock said coolly.

'In the hands of a fugitive sex worker.' Mycroft finished.

'She's not interested in blackmail. She wants.. Protection for some reason. I take it you've stood down the police investigation into the shooting at her house?'

'Haw can we do anything while she has the photographs? Our hands are tied.'

'she'd applaud your choice of words. You see how this works: that camera phone is her "Get out of jail free" card. You have to leave her alone, treat her like royalty, Mycroft.'

'Though not the way she treats royalty.' John added, making Izzy roll her eyes.

'Not funny.' She muttered as her phone went off with a new ring tone, as did Sherlock's. While his was one which obviously came from Irene herself, Izzy's was the groan of a familiar male. She smirked, shaking her head as she pulled out her phone, reading the text quickly; Morning x JM

Loving the new ringtone. Make that sound by yourself did you? xx IW She didn't get a reply and nodded to herself, putting the phone back in her pocket to see John and Mycroft glancing between the two of them.

'What was that?' John frowned.

'Text.' Sherlock muttered, trying to look unconcerned.

'But what was that noise?'

'Now don't tell me you've never made a girl make that noise John.' Izzy raised an eyebrow at him as he glared at her.

'You're my sister.'

'Good deduction. You could be the next Sherlock.' She said sarcastically.

'You can't say that! I'm not talking with my sister about my sex life!' John groaned, wiping a had over his face tiredly.

'Did you know there were other people after her too, Mycroft, before you sent John, Izzy and I in there? CIA-trained killers, at an excellent guess.' Sherlock sat at the table, going to look over at the newspaper.

'Yeah, thanks for that, Mycroft.' John joined in with the berating of the elder Holmes. Mycroft nodded slightly, turning to Izzy and mentally preparing for the tongue-lashing he was about to receive, however she just raised her mug of coffee and smiled.

'Eh, it was fun. I mean, who doesn't want to break someone's nose without repercussions?' John snorted into his tea at her serious question. Mrs. Hudson began bustling around, putting food on the table as she spoke.

'It's a disgrace, sending your little brother into danger like that. Family is all we have in the end, Mycroft Holmes.'

'Oh, shut up, Mrs. Hudson.' Mycroft snapped, making both of the other men swivel on their chairs to glare at him.

'MYCROFT!' The inhabitants of 221b shouted furiously as Izzy whacked him over the head. He looked at the angry looks on their faces and cringed, rubbing the back of his head as he let out a strained apology to Mrs. Hudson.

'Apologies.'

'Thank you.' She replied, ever the kind old lady. Izzy walked over to the table on Sherlock's other side, just in time to head him speak.

'Though do, in fact, shut up.' She whacked him over the back of the head, earning a glare as his phone went off again.

'Ohh. It's a bit rude, that noise, isn't it?' Mrs. Hudson looked over at Sherlock, eyebrows raised. A statement which he fully ignored.

'There's nothing you can do and nothing she will do as far as I can see.' Sherlock said.

'I can put maximum surveillance on her.'

'Why bother?' Sherlock started, only to be cut off by Izzy.

'She's on twitter. Quite twitter famous, she is.' She grinned, holding her phone out.

'Called 'TheWhipHand'.' Sherlock glared at the younger girl.

'Yes. Most amusing.' Mycroft's phone rung and he took it from his pocket, muttering, ' 'Scuse me. Izzy.' He nodded to her and she followed him out of the room, taking part in a hushed conversation on the landing.

…

Mycroft and Izzy were just finishing up the call as they returned to the room, Mycroft saying, 'Bond Air is go, that's decided. Check with the Coventry lot.' They hung up to see Sherlock looking between the two murderously before calming and asking Mycroft.

'What else does she have?' Mycroft glanced at him, feigning confusion at the statement, 'Irene Adler. The Americans wouldn't be interested in her for a couple of compromising photographs. There's more.' Sherlock stood to look at his brother accusingly, '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.' Mycroft ordered his brother.

'Oh will I?' Sherlock smirked.

'Yes, Sherlock, you will.' Izzy backed Mycroft up. Folding her arms over her chest to glare at the dark-haired man.

'Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a long and arduous apology to make to a very old friend.' Mycroft turned to leave.

'Oh, Mycroft?' Izzy stopped him, smiling cheekily, 'Can I catch a lift to the gym?'

'Of course.' He nodded, moving to sit in an armchair as she dashed to get her kit. After a moment she returned with her kit bag slung over her shoulder.

She turned to Sherlock, 'Do you want to come as well? You know, get rid of skinny rats-arse Sherlock and… Oh I don't know,' She shrugged, 'Bulk up a bit?'

' What? In the way you are doing at the moment? You've already gained a pound since you've been here.' His words had an immediate effect on the girl who stiffened and turned slowly to Mycroft, muttering.

'I'll wait in the car.' She quickly left to room, leaving Mycroft to glared harshly at his brother.

'You just cannot keep your mouth shut can you?' He held out a memory stick to Sherlock, who snatched it, and put his fingers on the bridge of his nose, breathing deeply as he tried to calm himself. 'Just read that before she gets back, will you?' With that he left to the car.