Sherlock was looking at Lestrade. He didn't understand why the man was helping, not after the way he normally treated him. He always treated Lestrade like he was an idoit. "Why are you helping me?"
He was very confused. He held his head. It had been a rather long day for him. He knew that his head hurt from it all. He wanted to just be back in his bed. He felt more relaxed there. Even if he hated staying in his bed.

"I would like to go home, I don't care if I am up for it or not." Sherlock stated. He was looking at him. He listened to what Lestrade said about his injures. Not really liking what he heard. He knew that was going to have to take it easy for awhile.
"So in other words ... take it easy. You know I cant ever do that, You should know from when you dragged me home when I had the flu." He knew he had drove Lestrade and everybody crazy then.

He was wanting to get out of the hospital soon as possible. He was still quite tired as well. Sherlock didn't want to admit he was still tired though. He didn't want to admit he needed to go to bed.