"Mycroft clearly didn't believe it necessary for either of us to be admitted to hospital, though some medical care was obviously given."

Sherlock tilted his head so that John could see the two stitches where a tiny patch of his curls had been shaved away. Irritating, he'd have to comb his hair an entirely different way to disguise that bald patch, he would be willing to bet that the wound hadn't even truly required stitches and Mycroft had only ordered them given to annoy his little brother.

"It was Moriarty," his voice hushed, deep timbre growing even more baritone. "Bored by the snow, just like me, he decided it was time to play. This means he's in the city, John."

Which meant the game was emphatically on.