There is a little bit of pride in thinking that he, Sherlock, wore this man out, that he was the reason that John needed to sleep. He couldn't help but be a little chuffed at that. No one else ever did, or ever would say that about that man.

Sherlock waited until John was sleeping, his breathing (breathing, why did he even still breathe? Silly mortals) was deep and even. Then he got up, as quietly as he could after untangling himself from John, and went back into the throne room, replaying the last hour or so in his mind on a loop over and over while he ferried the last souls from that bloody war down to the Pool of Souls.