John is in the kitchen making tea when he hears Sherlock yell from the living room. It's been an emotionally draining few days, especially when Eurus Holmes appeared and terrified his best friend. Him too, although the mirage barely registered his existence. Still, the dark circles under his eyes have become more pronounced since this phenomenon started and he stirs methodically, longer than necessary. He had tried to follow Sherlock when he ran from the house, but quickly lost sight of him. He's always had the annoying ability of disappearing at the drop of a floppy eared hat.

That was over two hours ago and he had been sleeping since he came back. Mary leans against the counter, silently watching him until Sherlock shouts again and she looks toward the living room. They share a look before John abandons the tea and goes to check on him. He opens his mouth, but Sherlock flies toward his bedroom before he can say anything. He does, however, have time to watch a little boy with bright red hair and a woman with blonde curls follow him and a cold dread seizes him.

Go to him, John.

John doesn't need to be told twice. He rushes to Sherlock's bedroom and is taken aback by the sight of his best friend crumpled at the foot of his drawers, surrounded by the apparitions of his dead wife and a little boy dressed as a pirate, who silently spectate the detective becoming undone by their presence.

"Sherlock?"