Sherlock was good for a whole fortnight, although sometimes the effort was obvious, even to John. And John, recovering from exhaustion, mild malnourishment, and grief, began to wonder how long Sherlock would be able to keep it up. John didn't know what had been said to the younger man, or by whom, but he was actually grateful. And a bit amused.
Then a call came in from Lestrade about an arson/murder down on the docks.
"Can you use my help?" John asked, beginning to chafe at his inactivity.
"I don't know." Sherlock said absently, as he shrugged into his coat and scarf. "Do you think you can use your brain for something more than keeping your ears apart?"
"Probably not." John admitted with a smile. "But what would you do without your Blogger?" He asked.
"True." Sherlock admitted, giving John a wide, genuine smile as he tossed the other man his coat. "Come on then. The game is on!"