Sherlock paced the living room, wondering what he could do to prevent this oncoming catastrophe.
John's anger bothered him, and he was certain that the blind doctor had lied to him, but he couldn't work out why.
Finally he turned and headed up the stairs. He could hear John's voice talking on the phone, giving instructions. As he leaned in to try to hear better the door opened suddenly.
"Eavesdropping on your flatmate is more than a bit not good."
"I was…"
"Not now Sherlock." He slipped past the taller man and moved back down the stairs. "I've just arranged for the flat to be watched, in case your brother brings trouble with him."
"He won't make trouble for you; he's just coming to take me back to wherever he's been hiding."
"Yes, but he's well known, and being looked for; the trouble he brings may not be of his own making."
John stopped in the middle of the kitchen, his head bowed. Sherlock walked up behind him.
"John, I don't want to go."
Turning, John placed his hand on the other man's chest.
"And I don't want you to go." He whispered.
Suddenly the reason for the doctor's anger became clear. Resting his forehead against John's, Sherlock asked "What can we do?"
"Persuade him that this is where you belong."