(Bayley's POV)

"So, we're just going to sit and wait around for her to come through?" I asked the group.

John sat in his chair, with a sleeping Rosie curled into his chest. Mary sat on the arm of the chair, and Sherlock sat in his normal chair. I sat on the sofa, near the bullet-holed yellow smiley. My knee bounced, I kept folding and unfolding my hands.

In theory, contacting Irene Adler had been a good idea. Sherlock said she owed him a favor, and this would be the opportune time to repay that. It'd been almost a week since she stopped here in this flat. We received no word from her since. Sherlock never got a text, which meant only one thing in my mind: Irene had been caught, and we had just landed her in a load of trouble, which she had told us she was not ideally happy about possibly getting into with this said favor.

"Try her again," I told Sherlock, nodding towards his phone.

"I did. I even tried to call. Phone's off."

"Must be for good reason," Mary mused. "She's not dumb, that one." She looked at me softly. "Do you still want to scope out the venue for the reception?"

"Not sure I can bring myself to, Mary," I said sullenly. "I can't without Rachel." Ever since Rachel and Amanda's disappearances, all things wedding had been put on hold.

I rubbed my head furiously. We'd received no more threats from Moriarty, which was a good thing, and bad.

I held onto Rachel's ring, put it on a chain around my neck. It was the only way I knew I wouldn't lose it. I wanted to find her safe and give it back to her. And I will. We'll find her.

"Well," said a breathless voice, accompanied by clomping feet up the steps to the flat, "I hope you realize I nearly got myself killed, before anyone says anything."

I rose from the sofa. "Did you see her?" When we'd met with Irene, she'd mentioned a party that all criminals were exclusively invited to, well, except for her. We'd figured that if any leads could be found, they would be there. Irene was our only way in. Besides, who would look for a woman presumed to be dead? It was the ultimate cover.

Irene nodded. "She...she looked well."

"What's with the hesitation?" asked John.

"There was an incident. Some came up from behind her and stabbed her. Moriarty and the rest of the group ducked out of the party before I could see what damage was done."

I rubbed my mouth. Great. So Moriarty took Rachel to some party, a place full of criminals, and she wound up being stabbed. He's throwing her into danger. He's throwing Amanda into danger.

"You said a group," said John.

Irene nodded. "There was another pair with them."

"Must've been Amanda and whoever Moriarty assigned as her handler," Sherlock murmured. "Anything else? Did she say where she was being kept?"

"The girl had no idea. Said she was living in some mansion-like building. Couldn't tell you where."

"Well, did you ask for more details?"

"I was kind of pressed for time, you know, being she had eyes on her." Irene frowned. "I'm afraid that's all I can give you. She was rather defensive when I mentioned you." She looked at me.

I chuckled. "I can imagine so. A woman who she's never met knows her fiancé's name? It'd strike me suspicious too."

The Woman crossed her arms. "We're square now, yes? I don't have to come running here ever again?"

"No, you did all you could," said Mary. "Thank you, for what you could give us."

"I'll text you later, Sherlock." Irene winked at the detective. "We still haven't had dinner yet. I hope to soon." There was a bit of an uncomfortable air when The Woman left 221B.

"A mansion-like place?" asked John. "Well, that narrows it down."

"It's something," I said. Not much, but it's something. I looked to Sherlock. "You got any other favors that we can pull?"

"She was the best we had," said the consulting detective. "Until we get something else, it's all we've got to work with."

**Another small chappie starring Rach's beloved fiance. And a small appearance by Irene. I was glad I could include her in there somewhere, even if it was a small role.*