John crossed over to where Sherlock was and looked at him. He reached out, touching his cheek, stroking his fingers along the cold skin. "Can you still love me without those pesky human emotions?" He asked quietly.

It had been weighing on him since he woke. Would Sherlock continue to care, or was it simply a front to get what he wanted?

John Watson quite often thought he wasn't worthy of love, of praise... To have it all given to him in this way, it was jarring.