For someone who was as verse as reading people as Sherlock was, it was easy to see the desire written all over John's face. His deep blue eyes were dark, his breath short. But he was worried that John was still too weak for anything physical.

"Lay back." Sherlock put his hand on John's chest, splaying his fingers out and gently pressing him back down towards the bed. "You need to rest. I can take care of you."