Irene simply nodded when he extrapolated on why Jim would no longer care about living once he was gone. It was her theory too, and it made sense, when you took Moriarty's twisted logic into account.
She bowed her head when he confirmed that Watson had told him the whole story. So he knew, and he was Sherlock, so he also knew why she had warned him in the future. And she no longer cared if he judged her on her emotions; she was human, and if he wanted to pretend he wasn't then damn him. Being so cold, so detached from all that had happened? How could he simply brush it aside. Sure, he hadn't lived through it as she had. He hadn't felt the temptation she knew he experienced that night in his flat, before it all came crashing down. But he could at least pretend to empathise.
She looked up at him, the bitterness visible in her eyes. "Yes, I still told you. I wanted you to lose Sherlock, to feel what the rest of us feel, just the once. I thought, maybe, just maybe if you could understand that feeling then we could...we could..." she paused, controlling the quake in her voice "be something. Anything. Civil would have been a start. But instead you let him take me and punish me for daring to 'ruin something that could have been so beautiful'. He took my beauty in return for saving you. And then he made me beg."
She took a drink of water and looked away from him. She wasn't going to let him see the tears building. He didn't deserve to see them.