Before she even thought, Molly was pushing past Mary and rushing down the stairs to knock John aside and kneel next to Irene's motionless body. She quickly snatched up the still woman's hand and placed her fingers to the wrist, feeling for a pulse. Molly sighed in relief when she felt the weak but steady beat of the other woman's heart.

"What happened?" she asked, looking up at Sherlock who was as white as a ghost, his lower lip quivering as he held onto his composure with every ounce of his self-control.

Lestrade answered for him.

"Apparently, Ms. Hudson opened the door and Irene fell in. They must have propped her up against it. We dragged her the rest of the way inside. That's about it."

"She doesn't appear to have any injuries," John piped up. "They must have drugged her. We could take a blood sample when she comes to and see, couldn't we?" He looked to Sherlock who slowly shook himself and returned his friend's gaze blankly.

"What?"

Molly frowned. Sherlock was behaving strangely, even for a man who was seeing his supposedly dead ex-lover for the first time in years. She stood and took his hand in both of hers, jerking his arm slightly to her him to look at her.

"Hey, you okay?" she asked, concerned.

Sherlock scowled down at her. "No, I'm not okay. What kind of a question is that? Moriarty drugged the hell out of my former paramour and dropped her on my doorstep. Which means that he knows she met with you and probably why she did. So he did exactly what anyone else would have done and got rid of the mole in his organization. Why he didn't just kill her is beyond me but he decided to ditch her here, probably just to screw with me. And now, I've got one more person to worry about keeping safe when Moriarty does whatever it is he's going to do. What makes you think I'm okay with this?"

By the time he was finished, Sherlock was inches from Molly's face, shouting. There was a moment of dead silence, then Molly felt herself being pulled backwards by the arm. Lestrade gave her a pointed look as he dragged her away from Sherlock, who growled at the other man until he let go of Molly's arm.

Mary appeared at the bottom of the stairs, along with Billy, and cleared her throat, caused all eyes to look her direction.

"If we're finished being piss babies about this, can we get her up the stairs and into a bed. Or on the sofa at the very least? That floor can't be comfortable."

John smiled at his wife and nodded.

"Greg?"

The DI eyed Sherlock warily before stooping to lift Irene's feet as Mary and John each took an arm. Working together, they slowly carried her up the stairs with Billy following closely behind, leaving Molly and Sherlock alone in the stairwell.

"I'm sorry," Sherlock muttered, shifting his feet. "But I'm really not okay."

Molly nodded, not looking at him.

"Understood."

Sherlock opened his mouth to say more, but Molly turned and headed up the stairs, leaving him to look after her helplessly.

"That's all I remember."

Irene sat on the couch next to Molly, wrapped in several blankets. Her teeth were chattering as she told her meager story.

She'd gone home from handling a client (what kind, Molly didn't know, but Sherlock and the others certainly seemed to) and met Moriarty and his second in command, a man named Moran, coming in the door. They'd smiled at her, which she'd thought was a bit odd, and continued walking. As Moran passed her, she'd felt a sharp prick in her upper arm, and went cold almost immediately. As her vision blurred, she'd heard Moriarty laugh and say, 'Tell Sherlock he'll not get this one up on me.' The next thing she knew, she was waking up on the couch with concerned faces around her.

She and Sherlock were in the midst of a staring contest that, frankly, was making Molly a bit uncomfortable. Finally, Irene shook her head at him, and broke the gaze.

"I don't know what he's planning," she stated clearly, obviously for the benefit of everyone besides Sherlock and possibly Mycroft, who sat the in far corner observing the proceedings with an air of superiority. Molly wondered if he'd ever liked Irene, since he seemed unconcerned with her well-being. "I wish I did," she continued, pausing when Mycroft scoffed. "My neck is on the line here too," she reminded him, in a biting tone. "If Sherlock goes down, it's only a matter of time before Moriarty decides to eliminate me. I know too much."

"What do you mean?" Molly asked, curiously.

Irene smiled tiredly at her. "I've been part of his operations for years now. He's got his fingers in a lot of unsavory pies and I know the details of quite a few of his shadier dealings."

"Why did you do it?" Sherlock asked abruptly, making Molly jump.

Irene sighed. "You and I, Sherlock, we're not good people. Neither of us are bad per say, but we certainly aren't good. But we're different. You're on the side of the angels, even though you aren't one of them. Angels bore me. Never could stomach them for long." She looked around the room, her gaze finally settling on Molly. "Here's an angel. And see, you love her. She's good. Pure. Sweet. I'm not. I met Moriarty and he offered me excitement and the chance to start over, ply my trade again, leave all this behind and become someone new. I thought it was a good deal, so I took it." She looked down to her hands, clasped in her lap. "I arranged for it to happen the way it did because the more I was around him, the more I realized that he was utterly obsessed with you. I didn't want to see you harmed, even I wanted to leave. I don't have a heart of stone, Sherlock," she said, with a wry smile. "Even I don't like it when someone who doesn't deserve it gets hurt."

Sherlock nodded curtly and slouched back in his chair.

"So, what now?" John said, tightly clutching his wife's hand as they sat side by side.

"Now, we wait," Sherlock replied. He stood and stepped over to the sofa, reaching down to take Molly's hand and pull her up. "I think now would be a good time to get some rest. He won't do anything right now. He's letting the suspense build."

"I'm going back to my office," Mycroft said, standing. "The rest of you will be staying here, no?"

Everyone in the room, with the exception of Billy and Greg nodded.

"Billy and Lestrade will be going back home," Sherlock said, and Mycroft smiled drily.

"Of course. Now, if you will excuse me."

He disappeared down the stairs with Billy on his heels. John and Mary stood as well, and headed upstairs to the spare bedroom.

"Sorry we don't have another bed," Molly said to Irene.

"Oh honey, it's fine," the other woman replied. "You'd be surprised at some of the places I've slept."

"Very surprised," Sherlock muttered, and Irene shot him a dark look. "Come on," he said, pulling on Molly's arm. She allowed him to lead her towards the bedroom, her thoughts on the mysterious woman on the sofa.