A/N: Thank you all for always being so supportive! It means the world to me!

Also thank you to all the Guests who took the time to review. I appreciate it!

Pipsis was an awesome beta, as always.

"You gonna tell me why you are so distracted? I hope it's a case above a 5. Otherwise I'd feel inferior."
John looked over at his best friend who sat in his chair, being lost in his mind palace. The former army doctor had told him about some weird patient of his, but Sherlock had been miles away.

The consulting detective blinked two times and then focused on his former flat mate.
"Sorry, you were saying?"

John chuckled and shook his head. "Have you heard anything of what I have said since I stepped into the room?"

"You've said Mary sends her love."

John sighed. "Yeah, that was about 45 minutes ago."

"So, I've heard something of what you've said."

There was a pause in which the blonde man looked expectantly at Sherlock, who did not even bat an eyelash, totally oblivious to the fact that his best friend wanted him to open up. Realizing that the subtle approach was not working (Why had he even bothered trying in the first place?), John leaned a bit forward in his chair and prompted, "So, what's the matter, mate?"

The consulting detective feigned surprise at the question, "What do you mean?"

"Oh, don't give me that! You've been in your mind palace for the whole time I've been here. You are distracted by something."

"Well, obviously not by your stories about this dull patient."

John ignored this statement and said, "And there's this wrinkle between your eyebrows that you get when you think hard about something."

"I get wrinkles?!" Sherlock sounded scandalized and touched the spot between his eyebrows with his index finger, in order to find out if there was any truth in his former flatmate's assertion.

"Sherlock, cut the crap! What's going on?"

John knew his best friend well enough to tell when he was trying to divide his attention.
John tried to stare him down, which was quite a challenge, Sherlock being the king of staring someone down. The consulting detective slowly rose with a stoic expression on his face, walked over to the window and pretended to look outside. John knew that Sherlock was doing it mostly so he had a reason to turn his back towards him. The former army doctor did not feel offended by it. Sherlock rarely opened up and when, he preferred not facing the other person.

"It's Molly," Sherlock's deep voice pulled John out of his thoughts.

He sat up and edged closer to the edge of the armchair and prompted, "What about her?"

Sherlock made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a growl. "She's distracting and irritating."

John could not help a deep sigh this time. He knew it was counterproductive, but sometimes it was frustrating to no ends to be best friends with Sherlock Holmes. "What did you do to the poor woman this time?"

That made Sherlock finally turn around and face his former flat mate. He did not hide the anger in his voice, "Why are you assuming that I did something wrong?"

John crossed his arms in front of his chest and arched an eyebrow. "Balance of probability."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Mycroft seems to have a bad influence on you."

"It seems Mycroft has a bad influence on everyone he meets."

Sherlock shrugged his shoulder in affirmation and wanted to turn back towards the window, when John's words made him pause, "Back to our initial topic: What happened between you and Molly?"

"Nothing happened," Sherlock replied defensively, "It's just… I gave her well-meant advice, but instead of taking it and thanking me, she was… angry and ran off on the road to ruin." Sherlock made an irritated gesture with his hand.

"On the way to ruin? Aren't you a bit dramatic?"

Sherlock seemed almost appalled, "Not at all. Tonight's her class reunion, and it's going to end in a disaster. She will be devastated and I told her so, but she wouldn't listen."

John tried to put the pieces of information together. He started to get an idea of what could have happened and cringed inwardly.
"And how did you tell her?"

Now it was Sherlock's turn to cock his head and regard his best friend while his eyes narrowed. "I told her the truth, in plain, simple words, so she…"

John interrupted him, leaned back into his armchair and drew a hand over his face in defeat, "Oh boy… I thought we had that talk after Jim from IT."

Sherlock's expression darkened. "He never was Jim from IT."

"You know what I mean."

"No, I don't."

John fought the urge to become angry with Sherlock. It would not help the situation. If anything, it would have made everything worse. He supressed another sigh and concluded instead, "So, bottom line is: You don't want Molly to get hurt."

Sherlock seemed to consider John's conclusion for a moment until he answered hesitantly, "Yes."

John nodded, being glad that his friend had admitted it. He knew he walked on thin ice here, but he had to push Sherlock a bit further – for his own benefit.
"And why is that so?"

Now the consulting detective groaned in frustration. "Don't make me say it," Sherlock threatened.

The corners of John's mouth twitched, and he had trouble supressing a knowing smile. Sherlock would not have liked that. Not at all.

Now it was Sherlock's turn to sigh deeply. He ruffled his hair in frustration and turned back to look outside the window – or at least he pretended to do so.

John sat up again in his chair, waiting patiently. He knew Sherlock needed a moment to gather his thoughts. John had pushed him as far as he dared; now it was up to his friend to do something.

The silence in the room felt endless and John started to suspect that his best friend had retreated to his mind palace, not to return for the rest of the evening, when suddenly the consulting detective spoke up, "What are you suggesting? How should I proceed?"

John had to hide his surprise. Was Sherlock Holmes really asking for his advice? All evidence was pointing towards this conclusion.

"Maybe help her out?" the former army doctor suggested.

Sherlock whirled around and gesticulated wildly, sounding angry, but John could see that it was his way of covering up his uncertainty. "You want me to go there and be her knight in shining armour?!"

"I would recommend wearing a suit instead of armour – terrible uncomfortable those things – but apart from that, yes. Go, get the girl."

Sherlock arched his eyebrows and remarked condescendingly, "You have watches too many of those romantic films."

John knew better than to retort. Instead he crossed his arms in front of his chest and leaned back into his chair once more.

Sherlock huffed annoyed and began to pace, as if that would help him come to a decision.

John watched him from his place, and almost felt a bit sorry for his tormented friend. Admitting that he was not an emotionless machine to himself was one thing, but letting someone else in was something entirely different. It would take him some time to get used to that concept.

After about 20 times walking from the door to the window and back, Sherlock suddenly said, "I don't even know where the class reunion takes place."

It took John a moment to catch up what his friend had said, he had been lost in his own musing. When he did, he stated, "You're Sherlock Holmes. I'm quite certain you can find out."

The detective stopped his pacing and looked at John. But he did not really see him since his thoughts were somewhere else.

John finally spoke up again, "Stop over-thinking it, mate, otherwise the wrinkles will get worse."

That made Sherlock's thoughts finally return to the present, and he asked with a twinkle in his eyes, "Now, where does one find a blacksmith these days?"