Greg made sure to carefully set him down on the couch. Mrs.Hudson had opened the door for them and was now busy bustling about, making teat, as Sherlock had expressed his wish for that, probably without realizing Mrs.Hudson was there, and went down to her own apartment, to get some biscuits to go with it. Lestrade was relieved she had thought of something to eat as well, because he was pretty sure Sherlock wouldn't actually eat anything bigger than those. After all it was still the sutbborn Sherlock, even if he had lost blodd and actually needed to eat something to replenish it. The funny thing, or at least most strange, was that Greg was really sure that Sherlock knew all that. About his wounds taking longer to heal if he wasn't careful and about needing some kind of nutrition to heal properly as well.
Lestrade thanked Mrs.Hudson, made sure to keep her from calling John, who would undoubtedly come back to take care of Sherlock and assured her that he would watch over him. He suddenly had a bit of a deja vu, from when he had said almost the same words back when Sherlock had the flu and he had practically carried him back to his apartment and tried his best to get him to rest. 
He poured some tea and went to hand it to Sherlock, taking a plate of biscuits along with him. "There you go." he said and sat down next to him, worried at how Sherlocks eyes seemed to fall close every other second. "You need to at least eat some of these." he added, lifting the plate he ws holding to show him. "And then I can get you to bed." Was it just him or that last bit sounded a bit strange? No, just him. Surely. He cleared his throaht and set the plate down, getting up tp get himself a cup of tea as well, abandoning his coat on the way.