"He was wrong you know," John says one day, and Sherlock doesn't even drag his attention back from the endless patterns of the pedestrian traffic beyond the restaurant window.
"Lestrade is always wrong."
"Not Lestrade. Mycroft." John is watching the patterns too. "How old was he when he told you you were a sociopath? Twenty?"
"Fifteen." Sherlock can hear John's response and quickly adds. "I did doublecheck his research. The symptoms match."
"You were eight years old. And you've been trying to live up to them ever since. I know how that works." John smiles, reluctantly. "Trust me. Look again."