Molly and John played a game of chicken and each waited for the other to leave first. He felt bad for her—she was clearly enamored by Holmes but he hardly acknowledged her existence. John stepped up his advances in the hope that another man's interest would distract her but it did little to calm her crush.

Two hours after Holmes' arrival Molly finally gave in and left for the day. He made tentative plans to bring her coffee in the morning, just the way she liked it, and he finally got a smile. If he needed to stay undercover long then he would need Molly on his side and blocking the mind-reading power of Holmes.

John stayed out of the man's way since interrupting or interjecting appeared to annoy and frustrate him to no end. He mingled about in the periphery and listened to the mumbling commentary of the man behind the microscope. Three hours after he arrived Holmes looked up to see John still there.

"More paper," he said as he put out his hand.

John grabbed a few sheets from a nearby drawer and put them in front of Holmes.

"Are you any closer to figuring it out?" John asked.

"I'm in a bit of a rush," Holmes said. "So if you please…"

Even if it was all play-acting he was getting a bit tired of being ignored. He moved in closer to look at the notes Holmes had already taken. He saw inklings of medical terms and chemistry formulas but it didn't coalesce into anything substantial. Jim wanted him here, but why.

Just then he got a text.

His time's almost up. Distract him.

He felt his heart beat harder. The man was like a rock. How would he be able to distract someone like that?

"I looked at your blog. Very fascinating."

Holmes stopped moving for bit and slowly looked up. Compliments. It was almost like he didn't know what to do with them. John kept going. "So much information. Where did you find it?"

Holmes pulled his eyes completely away from the scope. "I didn't find it."

"How do you mean?"

There was a slight smile that crossed his face. "I did the work. Obviously."

Obviously. John contained himself long enough to continue the conversation. "And have the police used your findings? I mean they must."

Holmes shrugged. "At times. There are some that don't find it useful."

John smiled. "Well that's stupid, eh? I mean if you've gone to such lengths to catalog every kind of tobacco or fabric fiber they'd be fools not to use it."

"And yet they don't…" Holmes gestured towards the beakers and other instruments. "Could you hand me the tweezers?"

John hopped to the tweezers and put them just out of Holmes reach. Every second delayed was serving his purpose. "It was quite spectacular what you figured about me. I thought I had Molly fooled."

He had run out of ideas. All he had left was the personal gambit.

"I also see your military. Injured I imagine."

"How…"

Holmes set the instrument down and looked John from head to toe again. "Arm. You hurt your arm."

"Well…"

He leaned forward. "But that's not why you're back. You've been using both arms the entire time you've been in here. There is no obvious injury that would prevent you from staying in the force. No, there's something else."

John wished he hadn't opened the can of worms. Standing in from Holmes made him feel like his entire life story was on display and he had no control over which parts were highlighted and exposed. John crossed his arms and started to step backwards.

"It was mental, wasn't it?" Holmes said with glee. "They sent you back for that."

John scowled. He couldn't help himself from reacting. "I mean…"

Holmes had a smile on his face that appeared to droop as John's enthusiasm slowly faded. "Was I right?"

John shrugged. "I mean, yes to a point."

Holmes didn't seem interested in pressing the details. The confession hung in the air like a fog. He couldn't comprehend how he had been solved so quickly. Was his illness that obvious that a complete stranger could parcel it out in a matter of minutes.

A part of him wanted to stick with the script. There were a thousand ways to distract a person without revealing personal details. He could just punch Holmes in the face at this rate and achieve the same effect. But there was something inside of him that couldn't let it go.

"Why do you say that?"

"Hm?" Holmes asked he wrote numbers down on the sheet of paper.

"That it was mental. Why would you say that?"

He gestured towards John's arm. "You have near-full mobility and an impairment would be the only reason that you would not be working anymore. Medical personnel are not commonly on the front lines, which would be the only reason you'd receive an injury at all. You were either ambushed in your facilities and shot or you were asked to go to the front lines and were shot. Either would ignite a traumatic reaction. That would send you home. That is why I say that."

John didn't want to admit Holmes was right. He bit his tongue to keep from saying another word. "I see."

There was a gasp, a shout of "of course" and Holmes jumped up and grabbed his papers. "What?" John asked.

"I have it. I must go."

He hadn't killed enough time. Holmes was leaving. He had to figure something out.

"Let me take you," John offered.

Holmes flung his coat over his back and tightened his scarf. "Oh that's not necessary."

John dug through his pocket and grabbed the keys of the car that Jim had lent him for the week. "I insist. It'd be an honor."

Holmes didn't seem to know how to react so he just walked forward without another argument, which John took as a tacit agreement.

He'd have to do whatever it took to keep Holmes from solving the case.

Whatever it took.