"Sherlock..." John felt dizzy. Something was wrong. He groaned before crumpling to the ground. This was not an act. Something was wrong with John Watson.

Instead of the gold glow that surrounded him when he used the magic that lived in him, it was a grey blue, similar to some of Sherlock's power.

It always seemed to be the opportune moments that the Fates appeared. Greg seemed to materialize at Sherlock's elbow. "Did you break him?"