Sherlock was looking at him. He was sure that may help, he just was still trying to be strong. He knew that Lestrade would respect his wishes about not telling John. At least he hoped. He was looking at him. He groaned and closed his eyes.
"Ok.......," he replied. He didn't really like been in bed and having people fuss over him. It made him feel weak. He knew he needed help. The detective hoped that he would soon be well enough to move around more. That depended on his injures.
"Mmm ok." He replied taking the pills and gulping down water. He seemed to not be saying much.
Sherlock was drainned and he didn't know what to say.
The dective felt warmer under all his blankets. He coughed a bit.