“And you took me away from him,” John said, less malice in his voice and more annoyance at the arrogance all around him. He had no idea what was going on here. Mycroft, being the smartest man in the country according to multiple sources, so often acted the most ignorant. “We were off to find a case to keep him from feeling the need for.. That.” John shifted his weight as he always did, as if he was simultaneously moving forward and about to leave. “You’ve lost sight of him and by now he might as well be in Soho, so if you don’t mind, I need your car.”

It wasn’t like he was going to get one himself and the tube would take much too long from here.

John was worried for Sherlock’s state. He should have never come. It made him agitated and he did finally take a step forward and push his fingers into Mycroft’s pristinely waxed and finished desk.

“If he hurts himself or gets hurt because I wasn’t there—“ He wet his lips. “Get me a car, Mycroft.”