"What do you mean, a mistake?" John Watson was on the phone, arguing. "I received the paperwork!"

Sherlock was his usual self, in the kitchen looking over a body part for some reason or another. He managed to keep his elation at John not leaving hidden.

Mycroft was watching the scene, as usual, from afar. John hung up the phone, slowly, his gaze on Sherlock. "Unbelievable."

"What?" Sherlock asked.

"I don't believe you had my deployment canceled." John looked angry. "There are lives at stake, Sherlock! Actual human-actually, no, I forgot. You don't care. You don't care about anyone but yourself and your work." He stood.

"I've upset you."

"Brilliant deduction." John ground out sarcastically. "A time I could actually be useful, something I'm actually good at, and you manage to take it away."

"I will neither confirm nor deny that I took it away."

"No, you just took steps to ensure that the proper people in authority would." A deep breath, "I'm not dealing with this right now. I'm going out." John slammed the door behind him.

Sherlock looked towards where he knew the camera his brother had hidden to be and tilted his head, obviously confused. Mycroft couldn't understand it either. Didn't the doctor see that Sherlock had obviously thought of him? He was good for Sherlock, Mycroft could see that. How could he say that Sherlock only cared about himself?

One thing the doctor had learned was the paths out of the vision of cameras. Mycroft wasn't sure if he should be amused by that or not. It seemed that the man had learned something from his brother after all.

It took a bit of flipping around, but finally Mycroft caught sight of John walking. Not much else, just... walking. He had no cane, no tremor... time with Sherlock had fixed that. Mycroft couldn't help but smile a bit. He had been right about the friendship of the two. The doctor was a patient man, he would understand in time.

John went into a cafe, which had no camera sadly, but left with tea. He was walking, irritation still obvious even as he sat at a park bench to finish his tea. The angle wasn't great, but Mycroft could still keep an eye on his brother's friend.

The doctor sat for a few moments before his phone rang. It was easy for Mycroft to listen in.

"Hello?"

"Doctor Watson? It's Lestrade."

A sigh, "Sherlock not answering his phone?"

"No, just... had a case here but... it... I don't think..." Lestrade sighed and said, "The killer left something for you. We looked at it but we don't understand it. It's a card."

"Like a business card?" John asked.

"Like a greeting card," Lestrade answered.

A sigh, "I'll be there. Where are you?"

He was told the address and John Watson took a cab to the location.

It was not a nice sight that greeted the doctor, three headless bodies and a blood covered room, but the officers there all knew him, greeting him with more respect, Mycroft noted, than they gave Sherlock. Perhaps because the doctor didn't insult them as much.

The card was a cheerful, chipper greeting card, with a picture of a sun smiling on some flowers. John opened the card.

Johnny boy, Johnny boy,

So obvious he's Sherlock's toy!

Won't let them send him back,

It's obvious that they think he's a quack.

We're going to play a game,

And nothing will be the same.

Come now, doctor, be of good cheer,

War's what you wanted and so I am here.

It seems what I said at the pool was true,

And so I hope you find my clue to you,

Lest your sister chokes on her favorite brew,

But this is only for you,

So no dragging Sherlock too!

Love,

Jim

"... He's... inviting me to play a game? Like what he did with Sherlock?" John was obviously confused. "But I'm not like them."

"You were redeployed?" Sally Donovan asked.

"Huh?" John looked and saw the papers had fallen from his pocket. "I was, but not anymore. It's... complicated." He picked up the papers before he looked around the crime scene and back at the card.

"Do you have any idea what he could have meant by the clue to you?" Lestrade asked.

"Just give me a bit to think," John said, sighing. "Earlier I was thinking about how I'd be back in Afghanistan and now I'm involved in some game of Moriarty's. I'll have to tell Sherlock-"

"You can't," Donovan said. "Look at your card again."

Lestrade looked tired as he said, "We were worried about this mad man. He even got away from Sherlock. We thought, since he threatened your sister's life, it'd be better to get you."

"It's obvious he's trying to make me go insane," John said quietly. "But... I can't go back with this. Sherlock will know immediately and won't take no for an answer. And I can't stay at Sarah's. After my almost dying again, she..."

Mycroft knew he was right about Sherlock and so sent the doctor a text with an address and the words: safe house.

Moriarty had instructed John to not tell Sherlock. He hadn't mentioned Mycroft, after all.

And yet... for some reason, the elder Holmes brother had a distinct feeling the doctor was in more danger now than he would have been on the battlefield.