Don't own Sherlock BBC. I make this glaringly obvious in this chapter with a different Irene Adler. And I'm finally drawing Blink Banker to a close.

Also please note this: I write for the NaNoWriMo which means one of two things, either an insane amount of updates as I procrastinate or no updates while I actually write it.

When Sherlock wakes up he knows something has gone wrong. The fact that he woke up when he never intended to go to sleep in the first place would be a clue even Anderson could pick up. He opens his eyes and looks down at the book in his hand. Page 2,732...which means he fell asleep around two in the morning. If he had not already known that John had left sometime at the night the sight of someone else sleeping where the thief had formerly slept would have been a much larger surprise, as it was he was a bit surprised that someone had come and slept in place of John. As though awoken by Sherlock's stare the woman turned around and grinned, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

She sits up, holding the sheet up to cover herself, "John's fine." Fair greeting, considering the fact that she is in his bed.

"And who are you?" Sherlock demands softly, voice laced with steel.

"Irene Adler, but I doubt you've heard of me. A bit of a friend of John's though." She smirks and Sherlock fights back jealousy, knowing that the woman hopes to see a display of exactly that. "When he's in a good mood that is-because jewel thieves don't mingle among their own, even if the jewels we are stealing are quite a bit different."

Sherlock raises a single eyebrow and states, "I should turn you in." He only does this to tell her that he is not going to turn her in now because she might know something about where John is. Should she cease to be an asset though, Sherlock would be all too happy to get rid of her.

"But you won't." Irene says as she slips out of his bed fully clothed. "I'm your best chance at getting John back and wrapping up your case. He thinks you should have solved this eons ago but you were a bit to busy chasing him to give it your 100 percent." She wanders over to the window and peers out. "Where are we starting?" Her bearing and tone imply a subtle power but also that she is willing to let him lead for a bit. She will not demand that he adhere to her every beck and call, at least not here with John between them.

"We?"

"I'm your incentive to get things done." Sherlock gives Irene a bland look saying that he never agreed to this. "Oh, don't give me that look. The sooner you wrap the case up the sooner I'm gone and you get John back." She says it as sweetly as she can manage. Irene has no wish to stay here with Sherlock, it feels to much like falling and not enough like flying. The sensation is bad enough that she hopes whatever it is she is staying around for ends quickly because she has no wish to stay here. Even if you took the irate detective out of the mix something about the whole set up messed with her mental facilities in improper ways.

Sherlock carefully words his next question, looking for a specific answer, "And why should I believe that?"

"You and I both know, Mr. Holmes, that belief only exists if one does not know. Since you are fully in control of your cranium and therefore, your vast intelligence, you know that I speak the truth. There is no believing to be done." She smirks at the detective as she turns around, and Sherlock is surprised by how playful she looks.

Cold, calculating eyes scanned the woman swiftly before finally muttering tersely, "Fine." He swept out of the room with only a shout of, "Try and keep up." He does not want some woman following him around all day, he does have better things to do. His list starts at New Scotland yard and spirals for there.

"Sherlock, what are you doing here?" Lestrade shouts as he trails after the irate detective, "And whose this? Your girlfriend?"

Irene laughs, "Hardly, Inspector, a friend of John's. I'm supposed to make sure that Sherlock eats and sleeps according to the instructions John gave him."

Lestrade twists around to give Irene another look over, "Where is John?"

She smiles at John's obviously concerned friend, "Sleeping. I can send him over to fill out his report as soon as he's better. What ever he got gassed with really messed with him and it always takes a while to snap out of his military mindset." She let just enough of a tremor be seen that the Inspector would get the idea that she had seen John in full military mode and it had scared her. Hardly the truth, but workable for now.

"Will he be okay?"

"Yeah, he is made of tough stuff. I'm more worried about Sherlock personally. I think he might decide to take down all of Scotland Yard because someone shot the Chinese mobsters." Irene admitted to it softly, playing the concerned female perfectly. The inspector seemed amused though but not fooled, at least not completely.

Greg offered her a lopsided grin, "How did you know that?" He had two ideas and only one of them was remotely possible.

"Sherlock." And his theory was proven right with one little word.

"Ah..." Greg said while nodding with an understanding smile. Naturally he looked towards the man they were conversing about, "Speaking of him, where has Sherlock gone?"

Irene followed the inspector's line of sight, "Fuck. It has been nice chatting to you, Inspector!" She took off a lot quicker then Greg thought should be possible in those heels and disappeared quickly around a corner. And Greg stared at where the woman had been standing seconds before, slightly confused before deciding he simply had not had enough coffee to deal with anything slightly Holmes related. And maybe, if no one thought it would be funny to change the coffee to decaf again, he could survive today.