Sherlock was sitting in the seat of the judge, the wooden hammer in front of him. Mycroft and Lestrade were standing in front of him, Mycroft to the right and Lestrade to the left. He was the judge, and he had to decide who's guilty and who's innocent. "For God's sake, Sherlock! I'm your brother! I told you it wasn't me, and that's supposed to be enough." "You've lied to me before, why wouldn't lie to me now?" "Because now it matters!" "Which is exactly why you would lie to me." He sighed. "You know I cared about her. She was my assistant for such a long time." "And you've been his brother for longer! He never cared about you, never trusted you!" Lestrade interrupted. Sherlock closed his eyes and shook his head. He must remain objective. But that didn't make Lestrade stop talking. "Think about it, Sherlock – he had Moriarty locked up, and he let him go. Why would he do that, if not to help him? You know he told Moriarty personal information about you. What motive could he possibly have other than to help him? Think about it, Sherlock! Think! Think!" "Sherlock?" John's voice suddenly asked, and Sherlock opened his eyes. His head hurt, tired of trying to fight away subjective thoughts and emotions. The consulting detective turned around and left, without saying a word.