Sherlock groaned and held his stomach with his other hand. He didn't want to get sick infront of Lestrade, He didn't want to appear that weak. He though knew he couldn't handle it longer. He just takes the bin and throws up.
He had tears in his eyes. He hated throwing up. He wanted to be back to the case. He hoped that he would feel better quickly. His head seemed to be hurting more now. He was pale and just looked to Lestrade.

He looked at him, "Ok," Sherlock mumbled. He seemed a bit ashamed he had thrown up infront of him. He just lets Lestrade carry him. He knows he doesnt want anybody to know he had been carried around like this.
The detective lay on his bed and he closed his eyes a bit.
"More tea would be great."
Sherlock just nodded. Normally he would protest, but he had no energy.