Mycroft's interference had caused a shift in Sherlock and Kate's relationship, John observed, but in precisely the opposite way to the one that had been intended. They seemed more aware of each other than they had been before, constantly checking the other's presence, frequently touching, as if they could not bear to be physically separated. What Mycroft had achieved, was to shake them out of their complacency in their relationship, of that first instinct of casually assuming that the other person was always going to be there, and into a state of constant delight at each other's presence. It was both gratifying, and if he was honest, slightly uncomfortable to be an outside witness to. For the first time, John felt like an intruder, and despite their protestations had left them alone for the majority of the weekend, pleading the need to catch up on his blog and a review article that he was writing on the back of the conference that he had attended.

Heading to the supermarket on Sunday afternoon with a list from Kate, he was just wondering about the wisdom of agreeing to have dinner at 221B that evening, when a familiar black limousine caught up with him just as he was crossing the road to head into the shop. He groaned. How could he have assumed that he would be immune from Mycroft's interference?

'John,' came a voice from inside the open window. 'I wonder if I might have a word.'

'Do I have a choice?' John asked mildly as the driver silently opened the door for him and he reluctantly slid into the seat beside Mycroft.

'You could just have phoned,' he said calmly.

'You wouldn't have answered,' Mycroft said dismissively. 'I assume that my brother is too preoccupied with Kate to be answering his own phone.'

'Kate's in Cornwall,' John said automatically.

'I sincerely doubt it,' Mycroft said, 'and unless your cooking skills have improved considerably I imagine that she is cooking dinner for the the three of you this evening,' he continued glancing down the shopping list that Kate had written for John and that he had somehow lifted from John's pocket without him noticing.

'Was pickpocketing actually on the syllabus at that posh school of yours, of was it an after-school activity?' John asked sarcastically, holding out his hand for the list.

'You might care to return this to Kate also,' Mycroft said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out Kate's phone, before handing it to John. 'I imagine that she'll need it for her on-call tomorrow evening, and it will save my brother the expense of buying her another one.'

'Do you never get bored with always being right?' John asked. 'How long have you known?'

'The rigged cctv footage on the fire escape was a clue, tracking down her phone in the property of a nineteen year old boy who had stopped on his mission to sink a few pints with his friends was almost conclusive, but tracing her pager down to 221B Baker street was the conclusive piece of evidence .'

John groaned despite his best effort. Her pager, of course. It had come back to the flat with her work kit, and none of them had even considered that this too could be traced.

'It was an impressive attempt at deception, all things considered,' Mycroft added almost as an afterthought.

'Why can't you just leave them alone, Mycroft,' John sighed.'Kate is undoubtably the best thing that had ever happened to your brother. Why on earth do you feel the need to interfere with that?'

'I am concerned, John.'

'Concerned about what, Mycroft? That he might be happy? That he might finally have something in his life other than work?'

'She is a distraction, John. Given the events of the last few days I would have thought that you would have been the first person to realise that.'

John stared at him in amazement, then anger rising, silently felt for the door handle. Unsurprisingly the door was locked, and the door handle clicked uselessly in his grasp.

'I suggest that you let me out of this car, Mycroft,' he said quietly, 'Or so help me, I am extremely likely to hit you, and damn the consequences.'

'Anger is an unhelpful emotion, John. Sherlock has abandoned a case without completing it. You can't deny that.'

'It was a set-up!' John shouted. 'You deliberately led us on a wild goose chase to keep Sherlock away from Kate.

'It was a genuine case,' Mycroft continued calmly, 'which I required Sherlock's assistance with. I threw in a few false trails as a distraction when it suited my purposes admittedly, but I still require his data from the case, and yet he is failing to respond to any of my attempts to contact him.'

'Do you blame him?' John asked, his voice rising incredulously, 'Jesus, Mycroft for an intelligent man you really can be incredibly stupid. You have tried to take away from Sherlock the first person in years, possibly in his life that he can really connect with. More to the point you have caused pain to someone who he genuinely loves - oh don't pull that face because I'm talking about emotion. He loves her, Mycroft, and she loves him back and God help them both they are as perfectly suited for each other as any two people that I've ever met, so why can't you just keep your pointy nose out of it and leave them alone?'

There was a long pause, before Mycroft asked calmly, 'Is that your professional judgement, John, ot your personal one.'

'Both. But while we're talking about professional over personal, perhaps you would like to consider how useful your brother's unique skills have been to you on more than one occasion. If you persist in this course of action, do you really think that he's ever going to agree to work for you again?'

'And you?' Mycroft asked, cooly. 'What would your own decision be on that?'

'I am Sherlock's friend and his colleague, and I will follow his decision.'

'And you would not consider talking him out of this insane liason, I presume?'

'You really haven't heard a word that I've said, have you,' John said, exasperated as always by Mycroft's detachment.

'On the contrary, Dr Watson, I have heard every word that you have said,' Mycroft said softly, as the door was opened by the chauffeur at a nod from Mycroft, allowing John to leave the car. Yet again, John was left standing in amazement on the pavement as the car sped away.