Slowly, Greg helped him out of the tub and did his best not to let his eyes wander too much, let Sherlock towel himself off, all the while getting more and more worried. Even sick and down with the flu, Sherlock hadn't been this out of it. He was still shaking, his eyes, he could see that now, not only red from crying but also still filled with tears. He really wnated to ask what had him so.. scared. What Moriarty, at whom Greg was getting more and more angry, had done before he had gotten there. But he didn't. Because Sherlock wasn't the type to talk about his feelings. He was more the type to hide them until he could force them back down. Not that that was a principle wholly unknown to Lestrade.
Once Sherlock was remotely dry, Greg helped him dress in pyjamas, buttoning them for him, because he was sure his hands were shaking too much to manage that himself properly. Once that was done, Greg reched out to help the other man up again, but stopped inches from touching him. "Do you want to go back to bed or the couch?" he asked, mostly just trying not to startle the other man though, since he looked a little dazed and with the way he was reacting to what had happened at the moment, Lestrade felt like he would scare easily. He knew though, even if he asked, Sherlock wouldn't want to talk.