Dinning with Frogs

13. Acceptable Risks

There is a ringing silence in which everyone in the room stares at Irene. She licks her lips.

"This isn't what you think."

"No? What is it then?" The silver haired man in the corner seat leans back in his chair, eyebrows raised.

"It's-"

"Yes?"

The best lies are composed of the truth.

Irene takes a deep breath. "I'm working... for Sherlock Holmes."

The boy in the paint stained hoodie huffs out a half laugh. The girl with the long hair, however, tilts her head, frowning slightly.

"Sherlock Holmes is dead." John says in harsh voice. "Is that really the best lie you can come up with?"

Irene clenches her fists. Now would really be a good time to do something, Sherlock , she thinks.

"I wasn't alone Karachi," Irene says. "Sherlock was there, he - saved my life. And then afterwards, after he saved me he said that if anything happened to him I had to return the favour: to work on bringing down Moriarty's organisation and to protect you. I've been playing double agent for Moriarty's organisation for the past six months, collecting information. They're watching you. I – I was trying to warn you."

Across the table the mobile belonging to the girl with the long hair bleeps.

John looks at her steadily for several moments, and then says, "Sherlock thought you were in America."

Irene raised her eyebrows at him. "He never lied to you?"

John's expression flickers momentarily and for a moment Irene thinks she might be able to convince him, but then he John shakes his head. "Even if he had, you're selfish. You wouldn't put yourself in danger for no reward, for the sake of a dead man. You're working for Moriarty." He shifts his finger on the weapon pointing it higher. "Tell me."

"John," Irene says, as calmly as she can manage. "We both know you aren't going to shoot me."

John raises his eyebrows slightly.

Irene swallows."Please - Can't we just-"

Abruptly the lights above them flicker and go out, plunging the room into pitch darkness. There is a stumbling sound, somebody swears, something drops to the floor, and then a soft hand closes around Irene's wrist.

"This way," a voice breathes in her ear. Irene lets herself be pulled to the back door. There is a sudden rush of cold air Irene stumbles out of the room into a corridor. In the dim light coming from a far away window, Irene can see the girl with the long hair.

"Out the back," the girl whispers, and tugs Irene down the corridor, out into a messy back yard. Sherlock is standing, pale and scowling, by the bins.

The girl beside her lets go of Irene's wrist and gives a squeak. She runs over to Sherlock and gives him a hug.

"Molly, we don't have time for this," he says irritably, pushing her away. He gives Irene a brief searching look, before grabbing hold of her wrist and pulling her behind him down the side passage and onto the busy main street. Molly follows, chattering.

"It's been such a long time, Sherlock, and I didn't know if you were OK, or if you were even still alive or-"

"Shut up." Sherlock snaps. He glances around him scowling, before ducking into a side alley and turning to glare at Molly. "What were you doing joining in with John's foolhardy schemes?"