He huffed. "Fine." John got off the bed and stretched. He made his way to the bathroom and started the water.

John got in the shower, letting the warmth pour down over him. He let out a breath and reached up to rub his injured shoulder. It was the one part of him that he couldn't glamour. The arrow that had struck him had been spelled. It wasn't white magic. But it still injured and maimed. It was only thanks to his nature that he survived the impact.

He began to wash up, taking a moment to wash Sherlock's seed out of himself. He shuddered at the feeling of the water in him.