"No!... God, no." Greg exclaimed, going red in the face himself.
He got up and turned to head out the door, collecting the empty mug that had been left on the bedside table earlier, then stopped to look at Sherlock, his brows furrowed with worry. "How are doing?" he asked carefully. He didn't really expect to get more than an 'I'm fine' again, but then again, who knew?
He waited for an answer, then headed into the kitchen, taking a look at the fridge. It was empty, of course, well, empty of things one oculd possibly eat. Greg glanced at the clock. It was almost really late afternoon. So he had slept rather long. He sighed and headed back to Sherlocks room. 
"Shall we order some food?" he asked and hoped Sherlock was even a little hungry, though he usually didn't eat much.