Clearly, he had always been a bit of a dick. That was reality. That was... just Sherlock? Usually, it was a defence mechanism, like when Donovan called him a freak and he went off on her...interests...rather publicly. But before the jump, John had been noticing a bit of a change. Sympathetic to a suicidal Henry Knight at Baskerville. Calling out for aid for the school director after he had already gotten the information he needed from her and then taking the time to explain why his actions had been so abrasive. Concern for the children after their kidnapping ordeal had ended.
His complete inability to anticipate John's feelings and his odd emotional reaction seemed far worse than anything he could have anticipated. Pathological.
"Sherlock, where were you? Mountains? Not London, then. France?" John broached the subject carefully, not knowing what he might hear next.
"Moran, Moriarty's right-hand man, found me outside of Tibet, or maybe I found him? The cave was near a monastery, and the man who found me was very kind, or ... perhaps very cruel. I no longer know which. He couldn't rescue me, but he did help keep me alive. He taught me how to process things differently. How to... well it wasn't good at first I think, but then it got much better, my time with Moran. Eventually, I found a way out and back home. I'm sorry John, I know it makes you sad, but it makes you a bit happy, too. I'm sure it does."
John's phone let out a single beep. A text from Mycroft:
I can only assume he has headed to you. I had hoped to have a more definite prognosis before he left Baskerville, but he refused to stay, and they could not hold him. Remnants of neurotoxin from his last encounter with the facility may have left him particularly susceptible to what I can only suspect is a form of neurological reprogramming. He appears to confuse positive and negative emotions. -MH
John texted simply:
He is here