Facing an adrenaline junkie army veteran with a gun when you'd asked his daughter out was daunting.
Facing his ex-assassin wife, with far too much emphasis on "assassin" and not nearly enough on "ex", was more so.
Hearing the history and etymology of the word dating from Sherlock Holmes was almost reassuring until he was suddenly deduced, threatened, and very much reminded that "Uncle Sherlock" was a high functioning sociopath who had literally gotten away with murder.
Then Mycroft kidnapped him. He was starting to think this had been a bad idea.
Mycroft surveyed him with cool disapproval. "No previous convictions, no mental instability, no inappropriate connections . . . No, you won't do at all."
He gaped. "What?"
"It would never have worked out. You're far too normal for her. You're positively dull. She'd be bored within a week, and you're actually far more interested in the blonde in your math class. You just found her too intimidating to ask."
Which was ironic.
John's daughter ended up married to a millennia old warlock named Merlin. Scott married the blonde.
Both the Holmes brothers and the Watsons approved.