Irene opened her eyes. Sure enough, the bed was empty. She smiled to herself and swung her body around and sat up on the edge of the bed.

"Ah!" Irene clutched her stomach and groaned. It still hurt, but Irene had to get up. She re-wound the bandages around her stomach and found that John had placed a dressing gown on the end of the bed. Irene sighed and held it up. It was simple and brown and she loved it. Irene placed her skinny arms in the holes and tied to cord loosely around her waist. She shoved her hair in a messy bun on the top of her head and fixed up her face. John had put her bag in the room as well and Irene dug out her little make up bag. However, she only found makeup remover cloth and mascara. Washing her face using the cloth and replacing foundation with mascara, Irene felt she could do nothing else to brighten up her appearance. Plus, she remembered it was only the three of them in the flat. Or, so she thought.

"Irene, Mycroft Holmes." Sherlock sat across from his brother in an armchair while Mycroft also sat in own. Irene could not see his face as his back was turned to her. Irene froze and tired to make her words strong.

"Mycroft? Interesting name, then again so is Sherlock." Irene walked around to meet him and stopped dead still, more shocked than before. Her eyes grew in recognition as she remembered the man from the bank. Mycroft was equally shocked, his mind recalling as well.

"Miss Adler." He stood up and held out his head. Irene swallowed and shook it.

"So, Mycroft is it? I can see where Sherlock gets his looks from, but not his terrible manners." She flashed him a smile.

"Sweet nothings will get you nowhere." Irene pouted, then smiled.

"Still, can't hurt to try." She turned around as she noticed someone was missing. "Where's John?"

Sherlock answered without looking at Irene, his face still glaring at Mycroft. "Gone. The clinic called." He looked from Mycroft to Irene, trying to mentally connect the dots.

"You've met, haven't you?"

"Um, yes." Irene quickly said. "I was just about to say, 'hey, wasn't that you from the café the other day?' Small world, ain't it?" Irene shrugged and smiled fakely. Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

"Fine, whatever. Like it's my business anyway." Mycroft stared Irene down.

"So, what is your business with Sherlock here? Can't be anything more than a mutual relationship. Plus, I have my money on John."

"Huh?" Irene said, confused at Mycroft's last statement. "No, I'm their housekeeper. Not very hard to believe."

"How often are your shifts?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Three days a week."

"Acceptable." He nodded. Irene titled her head.

"Acceptable?" She repeated. "What's the problem?"

"Just think you are wrong company for Sherlock." Irene smiled.

"Don't you think he is old enough to decide? Plus I'm not the 'wrong' company." Irene folded her arms.

"Not the way I saw last time we met." Mycroft smiled as Irene's faded and she stole a glance at Sherlock's prying eyes.

"Ancient history, Mr Holmes." Irene suddenly realised she had said that same sentence before. She glanced at Sherlock who also heard. "Anyway, may I ask your business here? If you are finished, I have vacuuming to attend to."

"You're not cleaning. You just woke up from a serious accident."

Irene glared at Sherlock. "You told him?" Sherlock smiled.

"Not a word."

"What happened?" Mycroft leaned in.

"Just a nasty spill of chemicals." Irene shrugged but suddenly groaned and held her stomach. "Oh, you are dead Sherlock." She groaned again.

"Why would he spill it? Sherlock has steady hands. Doesn't matter. Just a very unfortunate accident for you. One might say, justice?" Mycroft smiled smugly at Irene who glared. "Anyway, just offering a case and then leaving. Have other things to attend to."

"Government things?" Irene asked smiling as Mycroft was turning to leave. He stopped and turned around.

"I would watch your words very carefully, Miss Adler. Also your actions. I will be watching." He saluted his umbrella to Irene then turned, walking down the staircase. Irene folded her arms and poked out her tongue after him.

"Your brother is a git." Irene pouted. Sherlock smiled.

"True. You seem to interest him. What, prey tell, have you done to do that?" Irene straightened and turned to Sherlock.

"Mind your business. I have things to do."

LATER

"Sherlock, did you solve that case?" Irene asked before she left. It was later than usual as she took twice as long because of her injury. Sherlock naturally didn't offer to help. Sherlock looked up from his laptop.

"Which one?"

"The gardener one." Sherlock remembered.

"Oh, yes. Ages ago."

"Oh!" Irene turned, interested. "Who did it?"

Sherlock closed his lid. "It was the brother. The victim found out about their relationship, threatened to ruin him so the brother killed him. The gardener helped of course, knowing which would be the right bacteria to kill them. They poisoned him, watching him die then created that big scene to try and hide facts." Sherlock opened his lid again. "The couple are now hiding in Sussex, but the police will soon caught up."

"But what about the bomb?" Irene sat down on a chair. Sherlock didn't look up.

"I fear that the brother and gardener had help on this murder. A bit a counseling, I guess. By a certain consulting criminal." Those words make Irene's head beat skip. She swallowed them down and tried to appear blank. "I know who he is, however tying the case to him is impossible. Jim Moriarty is untraceable."

"Oh, I wouldn't give up too quickly." Irene stood up and grasped the door handle. "Even the most slippery people are caught if you know how to work the net." She winked and left, leaving Sherlock's eyes narrowed.

Irene breathed in the afternoon air and walked down Baker Street. She didn't drive her bike there that morning and felt she needed the walk to clear her head. Soon, she found herself walking through a park. She smiled. The sun was warm when it poked through the trees. She picked a flower when one suited for her fancy. Soon, she wasn't alone.

"Oh, hey John!" Irene smiled as John approached her.

John looked up surprise. "Hey Irene. Just going for a walk. You finished work?"

"Yeah. How come you're not visiting Mycroft as well?"

"Um, have you met the guy?" John smiled. "Not exactly a people person. Plus he and Sherlock tend to fight a lot." Irene laughed.

"True. Want me to walk with you?" John considered.

"I was going to circle it another time, but sure. Some company would be nice." Irene grinned and turned around, taking another lap with John. They were silent for a few minutes but slowly began to talk.

"Thanks for... my stomach... and junk." Irene mumbled and looked at the ground. John looked at her.

"Just doing my job."

"Really?" She glanced up.

"Well, a bit more I guess. You're a friend. Friends help each other. Especially when their other idiot friends spill acidic chemicals over the other."

"I meant to taking me to the hospital. You didn't have to listen." John smiled and looked away. Irene chewed her lip. "John, you and I are more alike than you know."

"How?"

"Sherlock and Moriarty. They need us like we need them. I'd never admit it, but I miss Jimmy. He's my friend. Like you and Sherlock. He needs someone like you not only for a moral compass, but to remind him he is not so much better than the rest of us. You're his connection to humanity."

"You know about Moriarty?" John asked, eyes wide. Irene shrugged. "Unfortunately."

"Then Sherlock was right. You are connected to him." Irene laughed.

"I knew there was a reasons he hired me. Typical Sherlock."

"What about you and Moriarty?"

"You mean 'relationship?'" Irene frowned at the word and air quoted it. "It's a bit more complicated. I guess you can say it's a bit like yin and yang. I'm the yang, he is the yin."

"I thought yin was the female."

"Not really. Yin is colder, more earth bound. But I'm sure after hanging around me you'll find I'm the opposite, free, creative and warm. Plus I'm not a fan of the night. It's creepy."

"What about Sherlock and me?"

"Hm." Irene held a hand to her chin. "Not sure. I think you are yang actually. Sherlock is a bit colder and earth ordinated. You are wilder, warmer plus it fits since you were in Afghan and all."

"Interesting." John titled his head. Irene shrugged and put her hands into her pocket.

"I know right? Jim think's its stupid."

"So would Sherlock. Take too much space on his 'hard drive'." Irene raised an eyebrow and looked curious.

"Hard drive? What's that? I keep hearing about it."

"Well, Sherlock and most people can only fit a certain amount in their brain. The less 'rubbish', the more space for important things." John rolled his eyes.

"I don't need a hard drive. I have an archive." Irene stopped as soon as she said it.

"You've mentioned that before. What is it?"

"Maybe one day I'll show you."

"You dislike the night for another reason, don't you?" John smiled as Irene smiled.

"Well, someone getting lessons from Locky. Yes, I used to have nightmares when I was a child. Craved the morning, despised the night. I would get nervous just thinking about going to bed." Irene suddenly shivered when a cold wind blew past the pair. "Only Jim knew." She quietly added.

"Oh, you were friends when you were younger?" John said generally surprised. Irene smiled.

"Yes. I didn't even tell him though. Well, technically he guessed I never got sleep. I did give him measles, the nosy little brat." John laughed.

"What was he like?" He seemed very interested. Irene grinned.

"Alright. He was a neat freak, nosy, hated everyone and very controlling."

"Irene, on the other hand, was snobby, sneaky, nerdy and had a very big mouth." The pair stopped dead and went cold. Irene turned around and John followed. His hand was glued to his gun. Jim beamed, still in a suit, hands in pocket. He looked like a Cheshire cat. A deadly Cheshire cat.

"Jim." Irene said through gritted teeth.

"Irene. And company?" Jim flashed a smile at John who stood next to Irene in a firm frown. "Someone being busy? Why and I thought after last night..." Jim glanced swayed and he almost looked hurt. Irene's frown grew deeper.

"What do you want?"

"A hello! Bit bored, wanted to see what's up. So, what's up?" He asked, titling his head. Irene could hear the danger in his tone. The words were innocent, but Irene learned to never trust his words.

"Oh, you know. You never leave me alone."

"Don't you forget it. Now, Dr John Watson. How's Sherlock? Still his little pet?"

"Shut up." He spat through gritted teeth.

"Such manners! I see he hasn't broken you yet. Sherlock has got to train you better."

"Leave Mr Moriarty. You have no business here."

"Quite true." Jim's glance was lost for a second but within that time John whipped out his gun and cocked it, aimed for Jim's skull.

"John!" Irene hissed quietly. "Don't be stupid!" Jim laughed.

"Listen to the good girl Dr." Jim poked out his tongue as two small red dots appeared on Irene's and John's chest.

"Crap." Irene said. Jim wiped something from his lip while his tssked.

"Same old Johnny boy." He pulled out a pocket watch and gasped at the time. "Oh, dear. Shame I can't continue. Places to be, people to kill." He made a gun out of his finger and winked while shooting it at John. "Kill you later." Jim spun and walked into the heart of the park. Soon he disappeared amongst the trees and plants. Shortly after the red dots disappeared as well.

"Damn it Irene while did you kill him when you were younger?" Irene glared at him.

"I had enough to worry about excuse me! He could have killed me! Did you know what it was like your only friend a murder and who could have killed you if you made so much as the wrong move?" Irene stopped herself and blinked. John's mouth was opened. "I'm sorry John. That was completely rude and out of line." Irene swallowed and sat down on a nearby bench. John sighed and followed her.

"No, my comment was. I understand. I'm sorry too. You have guts still being her today with a guy like that in your childhood."

"Don't shift they blame. I wasn't miss goody-two-shoes either." Irene admitted and rubbed her forehead. "God I am sick of this crap."

"What crap?"

"Life." Irene smiled. John did as well.

"Ah, life. A real bitch." They chuckled then fell into a nice silence for a short while.

"It's getting dark." Irene noticed. John scratched his head.

"And it's only 5:30. What time did you leave?"

"Quarter past four?" Irene recalled. "Damn, have to go shopping before I get home."

"Then I won't hold you back. You fine to get home?" Irene smiled.

"The real question is are you?" John smiled.

"I'm pretty sure I can handle myself." Irene said her goodbyes and was about to walk off. John stopped her.

"You doing anything tomorrow night?" Irene turned around.

"Was going to watch Law and Order, but not really. Why?" John started to look nervous.

"I'm having dinner with my sister and I was wondering if you wanted to come. She has heard about you and wants to meet you." Irene brightened.

"I'd love too! Need some girl time, always surrounded by boys. Molly doesn't count." She shrugged.

"So, 6?"

"Great. Text me the address. Not coming in tomorrow, remember?"

"Sure." John smiled and turned around. But quickly spun around again when he noticed something. "Wait, I don't-" John stopped talking when he sure Irene had already walked away, "Have your number." He mentally smacked himself and jumped when his phone went off. A message, from Irene.

Here's my number you forgetful silly billy. 0427914737.

-IA

John smiled at the text and popped his phone back into his pocket, heading back for Baker Street.