Later, when John asked Mycroft about the note, the other man calmly told him that he should make another appointment with his therapist, that it was another hallucination, and that when he got back home, the note would surely have disappeared. Indeed, when John returned, the note was nowhere to be seen.
And yet, desperately scrutinizing the place where it had been this morning, John couldn’t help but notice four lines of faded newsprint where the adhesive end had been.
The note had been real.
It had to have been.
You cannot keep doing this, little brother.
I can’t keep covering for you.
Sherlock, what you’re doing isn’t making it any easier for him.