"So... I pulled someone last night," John offered as a greeting. Ella nodded impartially.

"Someone?", she queried.

"A guy."

"I see. And how did that go?"

John laughed harshly as he wrung his palms together on his knees and stared at the rug.

"Well, it was going very well until I realised that I'd chosen the one guy in the room who looked like Sherlock. Kind of put a dampener on the mood." John glanced down, embarrassed at actually saying that out loud. He looked up sheepishly. "Same eyes."

Ella raised an eyebrow at him and indulged in a tiny smirk and nodded knowingly.

"An unusual piercing blue. Was that because he did look like him? Or because it *wasn't* him?"

John stood, walked across to the window and folded his arms protectively across his chest.

"I... don't know." Liar, his internal voice spat at him. He mentally swatted it away.

"Well, how did you feel?"

"It was good. Until I freaked out and ran."

"Why do you think you ran, John?"

"Because I can't do this. I have Rosie, she's my life now."

"John...," Ella warned. Damn, she wasn't going to let him away with this one. "You aren't only a parent. You're a person too. You have emotional needs just as you did before."

"That's what's always been my problem," he replied frantically, "Sherlock was definitely onto something with his 'everything else is transport' thing"

"And how has that served him for the past few years? Did he not have a drug relapse last year?"

"Well, yeah. Just after the wedding. But that was for a case, I think."

"You think?"

"Well, yeah, what else could it have been?"

Ella adjusted her legs and tapped her pen on her notepad. She stared at an invisible spot on the carpet in front of her feet and pursed her lips. Patient confidentiality was above all else. But her sessions with Sherlock had revealed a truth that she couldn't share with John. Not that he had needed to actually say it; it seeped out of every pore of his body the second he'd said John's name.

She finally looked up and schooled her face. John narrowed his eyes at her and shifted in his seat. Vatican cameos.

"Ella... What are you not telling me?"

She pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose & straightened her back.

"You know that I can't betray the privilege between myself and a client."

John opened his mouth to say something but abruptly closed it again, considering her carefully chosen words for a few moments. Wait, something...

"Piercing blue. You said 'piercing blue'. I don't think I ever mentioned anything about what Sherlock looks like. Have you met him?"

Ella remained stoic.

"He came to you, didn't he? When? When I got married?" Silence. "No, not then. But when else-" he trailed off as it hit him. The letter. "He came to you to try to help me, didn't he?"

Ella looked slowly down & up in a thoughtful gesture, not quite a nod but enough to confirm John's theory. John froze, his hands gripping the arm of his chair until the tips of his fingers turned white. How could he have not realised? He looked down at his knees, tears in his eyes as he blinked them away hastily. God, he really was a monster.

"John... Are you ok?"

"No, not really," he confessed, his voice cracking. "What have I done? He doesn't deserve me at all."

"We're all human, John," Ella offered gently.

"Even me. That's what Sherlock said too. I've made a right mess of this, haven't I?"

"Nothing is unfixable, John," she said quietly and bit her lip before continuing, "Not with you. Not when it comes to ... Certain people." She fixed him with a stare as his eyes widened at her words, eyes questioning. She smiled warmly at him.

"What are you saying?"

"I think I've said more than enough and certainly more than I should," she admonished, "He's your friend, John. Talk to him and no hiding this time. Cards on the table. ALL of them!"

He nodded & sat up, battle ready.

"So, same time next week?"