Greg clicked 'save' and returned his phone to his pocket. "I guess I need to be serious now," he said, shutting the bedroom door behind him. "What happened?"
"I think it would be easier to tell you what didn't happen," John confessed as they walked down the hallway.
"What do you mean?"
"We were supposed to retrieve something, but um, we nearly got killed instead. I know your crew is working on it over there, and you should probably get back soon. Thanks for helping me with Sherlock."
"It's no problem, John. I still have no idea what he was saying, but-" Greg's eyes caught something peculiar on the kitchen table. He stepped closer and saw Irene staring back at him. She was stark naked. "Where did you get these?"
"Mycroft gave them to us," John said, walking to the table. Greg leafed through the photographs. They were all of Irene in provocative poses, and all displayed the text, 'The Woman'.
"Why did, why did Mycroft give you these? And where are they from?"
"They're from her website, and Mycroft gave them to us because she's blackmailing-" John paused. "I can't say who she's blackmailing, but it's somebody important."
Greg felt like he was going to be sick. He leaned against the table and studied the photos again. "She's a dominatrix? No, that just can't be..."
"Sorry, what?"
The word 'possible' was frozen in his mind. It could very well be possible that she was a dominatrix. The odd hours that they met, the secrecy she kept surrounding what she did. He was the complete opposite around her. He told her about his job, the cases he worked on. At first he only told her these things when they were in the bedroom, but soon he found himself answering her texts about work.
"I was, um, going to say that wasn't possible, but I'm starting to get the gut feeling that it is very possible and probable."
"What are you-" Realization dawned on John's face. "No. No, Greg, not you. She said that she knew a policeman... Greg, what have you told her?"
"Nothing, really," Greg answered, putting his hands over his face. "I just told her about a couple of weird cases, but, oh God, I'm an idiot."
"How did you two even meet if you didn't know she was a sex worker?"
"I thought she was genuinely interested in me, I really did. We'd been seeing each other for about two months. And I suppose that instead of payment, she got the cases. Did she drug Sherlock?"
John nodded, and Greg groaned. "Go back there," said John. "I've got it covered here, I can handle Sherlock."
"And I've got to go back there and- oh God, John, you said there was blackmail?"
"Yeah, why?"
"As far as I'm concerned, there are no pictures, but-"
"There could be," John concluded. "Well, try not to see her anymore. Make up an excuse, but try not to make her mad."
Greg smiled weakly. "Yeah, maybe. Don't tell Sherlock, John. I'd never hear the end of it."
"Your secret's safe with me, don't worry."
"Thank you," Greg said before turning around to walk down the stairs. With each step he felt a stab of regret for ever meeting The Woman. He was just a lonely man, eager to show off, but what was the price he would pay?