She glares at him, and for twenty seconds does absolutely nothing.

It doesn't matter that the ambulance could put lie to the fact that Irene Adler was dead. It doesn't matter that it would most certainly alert the people seeking them exactly where they were. It doesn't matter because he's still pushing.

Twenty-one. Twenty-two.

With a growl of pure frustration, she stalks over to the back seat and practically throws herself into it, glaring at him in the rearview mirror as she does so.