"Who was first on the scene?" Sherlock demanded, pacing back and forth in front of Lestrade's desk.
"Philips," Lestrade said, leaning back in his chair, "He's at his desk now if you want to talk to him, but for God's sake don't terrorize the kid."
Sherlock left the office without replying. John waited until he reached Philips' desk and then leaned forward in his chair.
"Have you noticed anything odd about Sherlock lately?" he asked Lestrade quietly.
"Have you noticed anything not odd about Sherlock lately?" Lestrade said, chuckling and moving some papers around on his desk. He glanced up at John's face and sobered. "What's wrong?"
"I think," said John hesitantly, "I think that Sherlock might be reading self-help books."
"I'm not sure Sherlock is really…self-aware enough for that," Lestrade said.
John leaned closer. "Do you know what he said to me this morning? That I have 'a never give up, can do attitude that's the mark of a real winner'."
Lestrade frowned. "Well, now that you mention it, the other day I heard him say something like 'It's easier to be proud when you come in first then it is when you finish further back'."
"Exactly!" John said, leaning back and looking relieved.
"What do you think it means?"
"I have no bloody idea."
"But you're worried," Lestrade said, lacing his fingers behind his head.
"Well, yes—"
"John!" Sherlock called.
"We'll talk later," Lestrade said, as John got up, "Just…keep an eye on him."
But the thing is, John thinks, is that it keeps happening. And it's not just the bloody platitudes either. Sherlock will buy milk on his way home, or hold a door open, or watch television without a running commentary. Last week John had come home and the kitchen had been clean! It made his skin crawl.
John wonders if this is what Sherlock having a breakdown looks like. He'd always assumed Sherlock would get ruder and weirder, but the more he thinks about it the more it makes sense that Sherlock would get more normal as he loses it.
They're between cases when Lestrade shows up at the door with beer.
"Is Sherlock here?" he asks, trying to peer around John.
"No, he's out," John said, "Something about soil samples and nightclubs."
"Good," said Lestrade, following John into the flat, "There's something you need to see." He sat down on one of the chairs and set out two beers. "Borrow your laptop?"
"Of course," said John slowly, walking into the kitchen and opening the bottles. "What's this about?" he asked, going back into the other room.
"You remember what Sherlock said at the arrest a couple days ago?"
"Yes," said John, "Something about how everyone's important and you have to stay positive."
"Yes, 'Everybody's contribution is important, no matter how small, if you just keep your head high, do your best, and believe in yourself'," Lestrade said, typing something on the laptop, "Well, I had the idea, that if I remembered the exact wording, and if it was from a self-help book, I could search for the line and maybe come up with the book."
John's eyes widened. "And it worked?" he asked.
Lestrade barked a laugh. "Kind of," he said, and turned the laptop so John could see.
"Hurricane Fluttershy," John read, as the video began to play, "What is—"
"Shh," Lestrade said.
Twenty minutes later, John slumped back in his chair. "My God," he said.
Lestrade nodded. " I checked some other ones too," he said.
"Are you going to say anything?" John asked.
"Definitely not my division," Lestrade said, standing up, "I'm going to forget I know anything about it."
John nodded slowly.
"Good night," Lestrade said, heading for the door.
"Good night," John said, waving vaguely from his chair. Lestrade shut the door behind himself. John sat unmoving for several minutes, and then picked up the laptop and began searching.
The package came while Sherlock was out, and John walked several blocks to throw out the packaging so that Sherlock wouldn't notice it. Then he walked home and set it up right next to the skull. He made sure it was visible from the doorway and then sat down with the paper to wait.
It was a few hours before he heard Sherlock bounding up the stairs. He tried to keep his face impassive as he glanced up just in time to see Sherlock appear in the doorway.
It was obvious that Sherlock noticed right away, and John had known he would. Sherlock paused in the doorway, eyes widening as he stared momentarily at the Twilight Sparkle figurine on the mantelpiece. Then he stuttered into motion again, stripping off his coat and heading for his chair. John smiled into the newspaper. Sherlock grabbed his violin as he sat down, and played a few discordant notes in quick succession before he began tuning it. John watched him glance up at the mantelpiece again and then settle his gaze on John.
"Whenever Mycroft annoys me," he said, plucking one of the strings, "I like to imagine him as Princess Celestia."
John burst out laughing. Sherlock grinned, and bent over his violin.