John had not seen Sherlock again. After their conversation and after he had disappeared into his room, he had waited for some time. But even after two hours, nothing from him.

And even this morning he had neither seen nor heard him.
He wondered whether Sherlock had thought about his questions or whether he had simply ignored them.
He still couldn't believe that his best friend, Sherlock Holmes, who rejected any romantic entanglements and called feelings a chemical defect, felt and revealed a feeling of love for his girlfriend Molly.
And now he understood why Sherlock was so changed. Why he was also almost friendly towards Meena and Greg. He had finally experienced love and let it into his heart.
It also hurt him a little when he thought about what Sherlock had done afterwards. He had hurt Molly to protect her. But in the end, Sherlock had only hurt himself. Somehow, he thought, he had to be able to help his friend, didn't he?

Tonight he will try again to talk to Sherlock about it, but now he had to go to the surgery and do his job. Luckily it was Friday and he had a whole weekend to somehow build up his friend.
John was just coming out of the facility where he took his daughter every day, when suddenly a black car with darkened windows appeared in front of him.
He twisted his eyes in annoyance when he saw it stop in front of him.

What did Mycroft want now?' he thought and then slowly got in.
As usual his assistant, Anthea, was sitting in the back seat typing on her smartphone. She smiled at him briefly as he greeted her and then turned back to her phone.

The car started to move and a little later he stopped in front of the Greek-style building called the "Diogenes Club", which he was only too familiar with. Slightly annoyed, he got out of the car, ran towards the entrance of the building and was immediately led into a separate room by a few men.

He recognised the room. The last time he was here was when he approached Mycroft about Moriarty. John sat down in one of the chairs and waited.

"Hello, John. Good to see you" a tall man in a smart suit greeted him now.

"Mycroft, hello, what's up?" asked the blond man at the same time.

Mycroft moved slowly towards his desk and finally took a seat in his office chair.

"As usual, straight to the point" smiled Mycroft with a playful grin on his lips.

"I have noticed some unusual behaviour from my brother recently. I asked him a few days ago to help me with an important case. It was easy, but Sherlock showed considerable difficulty. I mean, I know he'd always been the slow one, but this time..." Mycroft stopped briefly and tried to find the right words.
"He is unfocused. He misses things. I have a feeling..."

"Wait, you have a feeling?" John interrupted him and laughed slightly mockingly.

Mycroft then punished him with a slightly judgmental look.
He took a deep breath and then continued.

"Yes, surprising, isn't it?" he asked himself more about himself.
"Anyway. Sherlock seems to lose all reference to rationality. And I'm beginning to wonder if the events at Sherrinford have affected him more than I thought," he said. His gaze turned into the air.

"I see, and why are you interested in this?"

"He is my brother, John. He only recently found out he had a sister -"

"Who has made him, or us, go through hell again!" John interrupted him.

Mycroft looked at him with a slightly surprised look.
"Yes," he whispered softly.
"Anyway, I think his emotions are beginning to get into his mind and he doesn't know how to deal with them. You know, Sherlock isn't as strong as he always pretends to be. He's always been the more emotional of us. And I'm worried that he might break down".

John frowned as he heard about Mycroft's concerns for Sherlock.
"So what do you want from me now?"

John hadn't quite realised what Mycroft was getting at. Yes, he did. Sherlock had only been able to regain access to his feelings through all these experiences with his sister and he too was worried that Sherlock would not be able to deal with them. In the end, he continued to keep a low profile and gave the outward appearance of being a rational and rational person. But John knew that this was not so.

"Tell me, this Ms Hooper. Does she have anything to do with this?" Mycroft interrupted his thought processes.

"Why do you ask me that? Haven't you always known everything that happens in Sherlock's life? And anyway, maybe you'd better speak to Sherlock yourself.''

Again, Mycroft put on a suspicious smile.
"Of course not. Even I can't see inside my little brother's head. And John, we both know that Sherlock and I never talk about these things. I also realised that Sherlock has only changed since his return from Ireland. So?' Mycroft finally asked and looked at him expectantly.

"What things?

"Let's just say Sherlock and I tend to have conversations that are less emotional. So what do you think?"

John took a deep breath.
"OK, let's just say Sherlock and I tend to have conversations "So I think you might be right. "Molly definitely plays a bigger part in Sherlock's life than he'd like to admit. "And now that she's back here -"

"Hold on. is London again?"

"Yes, but only for a brief visit. Why do you ask? Does it matter? As far as I know, they don't speak to each other anymore anyway," John replied.

"It does indeed. Tell John, does Ms Hooper know about the events at Sherrinford?" Mycroft then asked.
"I don't think so. In any case, Sherlock or she did not tell me anything about it. But as I said, Molly avoids contact with Sherlock and Sherlock ignores everything as usual," the blond man then replied, looking down.

Then he stood up swinging from the armchair he had been sitting in and smoothed his clothes off.
"Okay, if that's all there is to it. I have to go now" he then said and then pointed to his wristwatch with a sign that he had to go.

Mycroft stared thoughtfully into the air and tried to make the information meaningful and explainable for the current situation. He waved slightly and John finally left his office.
Mycroft then returned to his desk, picked up the receiver of his telephone and pressed a certain number.
A little later a woman's voice, all too familiar to him, sounded at the other end.

"Anthea, I want you to do something for me"