"We'll good because people will gossip and I will never hear the end of it, as normally I can escape myself." He replied. He knew that Anderson and the others would see it as a good chance to have stuff to say about him. He really hoped nobody else found out.
Once back at the appartment, Sherlock was more relaxed. He knew he was home. He was hoping that Mrs Hudson wouldn't worry too much. He knew she wouldn't have supsected anything was wrong until now.
As he had left the house like he normally did when he left. His eyes shut. He wasn't sure why, but he wanted Lestrade to stay with him. He knew that Mrs Hudson would look after him, but he didn't want to bother her.

He wanted to lay down. His eyes kept closing. He knew sleep was not something he often did or wanted to do. But he was just so exhausted now. He wished he could fall asleep. He just wanted some tea and to go to bed.
"I think I'll just have tea and go to bed." He knew he should eat . But he never ate much. He knew John often told him off for that and tried to get him to eat more. He was finding it too hard to stay awake.

Greg made sure to carefully set him down on the couch. Mrs.Hudson had opened the door for them and was now busy bustling about, making teat, as Sherlock had expressed his wish for that, probably without realizing Mrs.Hudson was there, and went down to her own apartment, to get some biscuits to go with it. Lestrade was relieved she had thought of something to eat as well, because he was pretty sure Sherlock wouldn't actually eat anything bigger than those. After all it was still the sutbborn Sherlock, even if he had lost blodd and actually needed to eat something to replenish it. The funny thing, or at least most strange, was that Greg was really sure that Sherlock knew all that. About his wounds taking longer to heal if he wasn't careful and about needing some kind of nutrition to heal properly as well.
Lestrade thanked Mrs.Hudson, made sure to keep her from calling John, who would undoubtedly come back to take care of Sherlock and assured her that he would watch over him. He suddenly had a bit of a deja vu, from when he had said almost the same words back when Sherlock had the flu and he had practically carried him back to his apartment and tried his best to get him to rest.
He poured some tea and went to hand it to Sherlock, taking a plate of biscuits along with him. "There you go." he said and sat down next to him, worried at how Sherlocks eyes seemed to fall close every other second. "You need to at least eat some of these." he added, lifting the plate he ws holding to show him. "And then I can get you to bed." Was it just him or that last bit sounded a bit strange? No, just him. Surely. He cleared his throaht and set the plate down, getting up tp get himself a cup of tea as well, abandoning his coat on the way.

Sherlock was glad to be at home on his couch. He noticed Mrs Hudson had gone to make tea. He hadn't asked her directly. He hadn't really been sure if she was nearby or not. He though was happy somebody was making him tea.
The detective wanted to curl up in blankets, but he hadn't left any nearby, However he knew that he would be going to bed soon. He rubbed his eyes a bit and sipped his tea. It always made him feel better after a hard day.

He looked at the bisciuts, anything else right now and he would refuse. He always claimed food slowed him down. He rubbed his eyes again and eats a couple of biscuits. He was so tired he almost dropped his cup and plate.
He wondered if Lestrade would stay the night to look after him like when he had the flu, He knew left to his own devices he wouldn't stay in bed. He was sometimes too much for Mrs Hudson there. He yawned.
The detective knew he had to wait for Lestrade to get him to his bed. Normally Sherlock woul have a shower before bed. But he was too tired and sore to even want to. Moriarty had really beaten him up badly.

When Greg came back into the living room, he was happy to see Sherlock having some biscuits to eat. He had actually expected him to refuse to eat anything, it had been quite the fight to get him to back when he had the flu. Maybe the man was too tired to protest. He certainly seemed too tired to even sit upright or hold the cup in his hands. Lestrade stepped closer and sat down next to him, sipping his own tea with an eye on Sherlock to make sure he would be able to react soon enough, should the man pass out or something. He was worryingly pale after all.
Once Sherlock was finished with his tea and seemed to be eating no more, Greg got up, putting his cup away and relieving Sherlock of his, putting them on a table nearby. With the usual chaos present int the apartment, he didn't feel like he had to put it back in the kitchen right away. Or be tidy in any way either. Which was a strange feeling, because at his own apartment he was rather the tidy sort, if only because his ex-wife had drilled it into him.
His eyes fell on Sherlock. "Let's get you to bed, alright?" he asked already reaching out to help the other man up. "You have to help me out a little here, I don't quite think I can carry you on my own." he added. Not that he'd tried. But while Sherlock was thin, he was rather tall and Lestrade wasn't all that young anymore.

Sherlock was looking at him, He really did just want to go to sleep. He gets up. His legs are wobbling as he stands. He knows he would fall without Lestrade helping him. He winced and tried to ingore his pain.
"Yeah..,"
The amount of words he was saying was limited. He seemed just too tired to want to talk that much. He was sure he would feel better. He was a bit dizzy. The detective wanted to sleep. He knew he normally wasn't one to want to sleep.
He yawned a bit and lay down once on his bed. He was sure a bit of rest would ease his headache.
It seemed he wasn't able to stay awake very long.

Sherlock was soon asleep and he didn't wake until late the next morning. He was looking around his room. He curled up in his blankets, He knew that he would be unable to move around too much.
"Lestrade?" He was unsure if Lestrade had stayed.

Once SHerlock was in bed and fast asleep, Greg watched over him for a few more minutes, then headed back into the living room. He let himself flop down onto the couch and leaned back, scrubbinghis hands over his face as he sighed. He was exhausted. And he definetly hadn't expected his day to go the way it had. Though that selodmly was the case once you invloved Sherlock in anything.
He wasn't quite sure what kind of point Moriarty had wanted to make with what he had done. And he had been gone far too soon at the mere thread of reinforcements as well. Lestrade was still fascinated neither of th etwo considerably smarter man had actually noticed his bluff, to be honest. He had not even expected it to work as he had said the words.
He sighed and got up again. Luckily it had worked and Sherlock was safe and sound, though roughed up. His phone rang. He had completely forgotten about the case he had. He sighed and picked up, grabbing his coat as he listened to Donovan, bitching a little about the fact that he had vanished like that, and headed down the stairs, hanging up before he knocked on Mrs.Hudsons door. He explained to her that he'd have to go for a bit nd asked her to watch over Sherlock and call him should anything happen.
He then headed out, not getting back to the crime scene, but driving back to Scotland yard. He got an earful by Donovan, who only raised an eyebrow at him when he tried to remind her he was her boss, and it only got worse when he refused to tell what it had been that had kept him for so long. He just grabbed the fiiles they had anaged to assemble and turned back around."I will get going again and I don't think I will be back today. Call me if something comes up. And no Donovan..!" he interrupted the woman who had already guessed where he was heading and was about to protest. "There is no option about letting Sherlock in on the case." Especially not since it seemed that there was a link to Moriarty in all this.
Without another word, he left and drove back to Bakers Street, parking right in front of the house. He grabbed the files and went inside, Mrs.Hudson assuring him Sherlock had slept like a baby. He could almost picture her glancing into Sherlock room every few minutes. Smiling he thanked her and head upstairs, where ot seemed she had cleaned up some. He put the files on the desk and left his coat on the back of a chair, tip-toeing into Sherlocks room to assure himself the man was alright.
The next few hours he spent working his way through the files he'd brought. Until he heard he heard his name called, with a still sleep-laden voice. He got up and headed over to Sherlocks room. "I'm here." he answered. "Did you sleep well? Can I get you anything?" Now he really had a deja vu of the time he had looked after the other man when he'd been sick.

Sherlock was laying there feeling weak. His head was hurting him. "Ah yeah." He yawned and rubbed his eyes. He was feeling rather half asleep. He had gotten enough good sleep. "I want a bath really."
He admited. He knew that he was feeling quite sweaty and dirty from not having a bath. He knew he was too injured to attempt a shower. He was unsure if even a bath was pushing it. He didn't want to be bothered with food.

The detective was rubbing his eyes. He wondered if Lestrade had been working on the caw. He wanted to be apart of it. He knew that he couldn't just lay around all day. He knew Lestrade would look after him like last time.
He was looking at the man infront of him. "Maybe a drink of water as well."
It was going awhile before he would be feeling his normal self. He was not wanting to admit that his mental state felt quite messed up. He knew that he needed to just to his head back in order. He didn't want to admit that, He was sure that he would need time to be able to think clearly again.
He knew he wouldn't be able to focus too long on things with his mind not feeling right.

Greg nodded and turned around to get a glass of water. His mind though, was occupied with the thought of the bath. They were both men, it shouldn't be anything difficult, but he was hesitating, for some reason. He grabbed some glass that looked clean and filled it with water, then headed back to Sherlocks room.
"Here." he said and sat down at the side of the bed, holding the glass out for him to take. He looked him over, relieved to see he was doing much better. "Maybe, if you will eat a little, we could try with the bath." he said, smiling, a little mischievously. But he really was thinking it would be easier and better if Sherlock ate a bit. He needed the strength, after all. Even if he didn't like it. Also, he was getting a little hungry himself, and tired, but to the latter he was used to. "We'll have to make sure to keep your arm out of the water, though." he added.
"And once you're up and awake, I've got a case for you." he said, hoping, this might keep Sherlock from protesting too much.

The detective was looking at him "Ah." he takes the glass and drinks some water. Sherlock was hoping that the water would help ease his headache as well. Sherlock wasn't too interested in food. Well he never really was.

"Ah fine." He replied in reponse to having something to eat. Sherlock takes his food and begins eating. He knows John always forces him and would be furious if Lestrade didnt make sure he ate something.
"Know John will be furious if I don't ." He was unsure if Lestrade would call John if he didn't eat.
He was feeling weak and food would help him feel better really.

Sherlock was looking at him. He finished eating. "A case? Your going to let me at least do something?" He was sure that Lestrade had been going to keep him away from all case realted things. He knew he would find it hard to not want to do the big stuff.
He waited for Lestrade to help him up.

He suddenly seemed to be having a panic attack as he remebered what had happned yesterday. It seemed to have sunk in. He was shaking and lowered his head. He held his knees. He looked truely terriied.
Sherlock really needed somebody to help him recover mentally though he didn't want to admit it.

Greg was shocked at suddenly seeing Sherlock shaking, with his ehad lowered and holding onto his knees. It took a moment for him to realize that he looked terrified. He hadn't thought much about what had happened the day before. Sherlock always acted as if nothing fazed him, so this time as well, Lestrade hadn't taken into consideration that it actually might have. After all, if Moriarty wasn't able to scare Sherlock, then who was?
"Sherlock?" he inquired softly, slowly reaching out to lightly touch the other mans shoulder. He had the sudden urge to hug him tightly, but he guessed that wouldn't be a welcome action. "Sherlock, it's alright. You're home. You're safe with me." he tried to calm the detective down, feeling a little helpless, because he had never been someone too terribly good with that kind of thing and Sherlock was just... well Sherlock. "I'm not going anywhere, okay?"
He slid a little closer. "Let's get you into the bath, shall we?" he asked him, waiting to get permission to help him up.

"I'm fine," Sherlock tried to compose himself again. There was no way that he was going to admit to something so weak as being terrified. Moriarty had tortured him when he first captured him. He hadn't really told Lestrade much of what happened.
He didn't want to talk about it. He also wasn't sure he could.
The detective was clearly still scared. He was shiver still.

When he had stopped shaking as much. He looked at him. The fear still in his eyes "Alright, " He said. He wanted to just go and have a bath. "I just want a bath." he hoped that he would be feeling himself soon.
He didn't want to admit his mental state wasn't ok. He was crying when he was in the bath. He didn't want Lestrade to know.

Sherlock was hardly ever phased by anything Moriarty or anybody else did. But even when he was scared he never showed it or admited it. This was the first time he had broken down in fear. Though he still tried to hide it and act like nothing had happened.
The tears were dripping down his face.
"L..Lestrade." he whispered when he was done. His eyes were red from crying.

Greg didn't believe him when he said he was fine. He had noticed that Sherockw as still shivering and when he had looked up there had been something in his eyes, Greg had not seen there before. It had him wondering for the first time, just what Moriarty had done while he had scrambled to find them. His conscience weight heavily on him for not having been faster, not having come and safe him sooner.
He nodded at Sherlock and helped him up, together they slowly made their to to the bathroom, where he sat him down on the edge of the tub. "Take your time. And be careful with your arm, alright?" he said, hesitating, but then heading out. He had thought of helping him undress and getting in, but then again, it felt like that would be awkward for the both of them. "Call for me, if you need some help. Or you're done." he added, then went outside, sitting on the couch and waiting for him to call for him. His eyes fell on the case files, but after having sat on them all night long, he couldn't bring himself to go on at the moment. He really needed Sherlocks input on that. He was just unsure whether the detective was actually up for it.
He heard Sherlock whisper his name. He would've missed it had he done anything else, but he had been listening to catch every possible hin that his help might be needed. He got up, worried at the way Sherlock had called for him. He knocked on the bathroom door before opening it. "I'm coming in." he declared quietly, then stepped inside. He was a little surprised, shocked even, to see what state Sherlock was in. He wasn't as pale as he had been yesterday, but his eyes were definetly red, which they hadn't been before. Greg tried not to visibly react to it, instead he stepped closer to help the other man out.

Sherlock knew he wasn't fine. He just didnt want to admit that. He never could admit when something was upsetting or scaring him. He had tears in his eyes and hoped Lestrade didn't notice. It had been awhile that he had been so scared that he would cry.
Sherlock would sometimes fake being scared if it would help him with a case. Sherlock was a good actor, he could mostly hide things . Though it depended sometimes.
This time he was very scared and it did show through even when he tried to hide it. He was looking at Lestrade. He blushed when he was helped out of the tub as he felt a little awkward . He grabbed a towel and was shaking as he got changed .

His fear was something he wanted to keep to himself if he could. But he had a feeling Lestrade knew. He hoped Lestrade wouldn't ask him too much.
Sherlock really did look dazed from fear though.

Slowly, Greg helped him out of the tub and did his best not to let his eyes wander too much, let Sherlock towel himself off, all the while getting more and more worried. Even sick and down with the flu, Sherlock hadn't been this out of it. He was still shaking, his eyes, he could see that now, not only red from crying but also still filled with tears. He really wnated to ask what had him so.. scared. What Moriarty, at whom Greg was getting more and more angry, had done before he had gotten there. But he didn't. Because Sherlock wasn't the type to talk about his feelings. He was more the type to hide them until he could force them back down. Not that that was a principle wholly unknown to Lestrade.
Once Sherlock was remotely dry, Greg helped him dress in pyjamas, buttoning them for him, because he was sure his hands were shaking too much to manage that himself properly. Once that was done, Greg reched out to help the other man up again, but stopped inches from touching him. "Do you want to go back to bed or the couch?" he asked, mostly just trying not to startle the other man though, since he looked a little dazed and with the way he was reacting to what had happened at the moment, Lestrade felt like he would scare easily. He knew though, even if he asked, Sherlock wouldn't want to talk.

Sherlock was looking at him. He hated feeling weak and useless. But he knew that he needed the time to recover. He hoped that it wasn't going to be too long before he could be back on his feet.
He really didn't want Lestrade to ask about the tears in his eyes.
Sherlock knew he hardly every cried. It wasn't something he normally did, let alone let people see. "Maybe the couch for now." he really didn't want to be stuck in his bedroom. Not if he could help it.

He knew right now alot of things woukd easily startle him. He just hoped that he was in the right mind for a case. Sherlock wanted to work on a few things . He also was hoping to be back to himself long before John was home.
He didn't want John knowing that he was scared. Feeling slightly dizzy and such he leaned on Lestrade. He was closing his eyes.

Greg just stood there for a few seconds, tightly holding onto Sherlock who was really leaning on him now. He tried to get a glance at the other mans face, noticing that his eyes were close. Then he carefully tugged him towards the door. "It's not far. " he said softly, though he was well aware that this was Sherlocks home and that the man knew anyway. "You can sit down and I'll get you some tea. " he went on, feeling as if he should be saying something.
It took a bit, but they made it to the couch, where Gret made sure to carefully set him down and let him lean back enough to take the pressure off his ribs. He grabbed the blanket that had been folded and left on the back of the couch and covered him with it. "This alright?" he asked, to make sure. It was a little strange to see Sherlock like this. He had not even been so weak when he'd had been sick with the flu. Even then he'd been complaining of boredom and roaming about and Greg had barely managed to get him into his bed, or lay down anywhere.
He turned around and got the tea, a bit hurried maybe, so that he wouldn't have to take his eyes off Sherlock for too long. He said down on a chair by the desk to watch him and then, carefully asked: "Should I call John?" He wasn't sure about this. John was probably the only person Sherlock really trusted, but the way the detective was, he might not want John to know anything about all of this at all.

Sherlock was looking at him. He nodded a bit. "Yeah." His voice sounded dull. It was almost like Moriarty had broken him. But with Sherlock that was too hard to break him completly. But the man certainly wasn't himself now.
"Tea would be good." he replied.
It seemed he was only speaking when Lestrade said something to him. At least at this moment. He was breathing deeply. He wanted to be laying down as he felt the pain in his ribs. He sighed in relief once he was lain down on the couch.
Sherlock merely nodded and looked at him in reponse to the blanket been lain over him.
The detective hated being fragile. Oh toughen up Sherlock he thought.
He expected to be back to normal, way quicker than was possible, He closed his eyes for a moment. His mind and body was weak right now.
Hearing Lestrade's request to call John , Sherlock's eyes widdened . "No!!" He growled "John must not know,"
He knew John would only race home and want to knowwhat happened and then probably get hurt going after Moriarty. Though deep down he knew John should know what happened as he could have died.

He had expected Sherlock not to want him to call John, but Greg was surprise at the way he reacted to intensly. He held up his hands. "Alright. I won't, I won't." he tried to reassure the other man. He sat back, looking Sherlock over again. He wasn't sure how he was supposed to handle this Sherlock, instead of the kind of arrogant and annoying one he was used to. It wasn't like he had gotten so used to the insults that he didn't mind them anymore, but he had at some point realized that not everything that sounded like an insult was actually really an insult, coming from Sherlock.

He glanced around the room. "So, erm...." his eyes fell on the case files. "You want to rest some more? Or do you want to have a look at the case? I've been looking it over all night long and I've just got the feeling that I missed something.." he went on, hoping that a good case or some occasion to tease Greg would liven Sherlock up a bit. He really didn't know what else could do the trick.

Sherlock was looking at him. "Well good," he replied. He really didn't want Lestrade calling John. He knew that was never a good idea. He knew he wasn't acting much of his normal self. But it was hard.
He just didn't feel like himself, He wanted to hide that.

Rest no way. He thought. He really did want the case "The case give me... I don't need sleep. Sleep is a waste of time." he said sounding a bit more like himself. He was looking at him. "Of course you missesd something out," Idoit Sherlock thought.
"Because its too beyond you as normal."
There was hint of a smirk on his face. He wanted to look at it.
He was sure that the police never could work it out, as they were a bunch of morons "And suppose those morons Donovan and Anderson won't ever work it out." He went on.

Greg was really relieved to see Sherlock starting to get back to his usual self. He was sure Sherlock would notice that he was growing less tense and his expression softened a little as he looked at him, but he tried his best to act normal and as if nothing was happening. He just gave him an annoyed look, as annoyed as he could while actually being strangely happy so be insulted again, and didn't comment on any of it.
He got up, walking over to the desk and sorting the files back together, before handing them to Sherlock. "This is all we have on that recent murder and the last one is from a case of mine about two or three months ago. The crime scene had been that old warehouse, the one where I found you. The two cases are similar in some aspects and I was wondering whether they are actually linked. I can't seem to get a grip on anything in particular though..." he trailed off an sighed, rubbing his eyes. "Sherlock, may I use the bath for a bit? I've got a change of clothes in my car and I'd really like a quick shower." He asked, the request feeling a little awkward, but he was the kind that needed a hot shower to wake him up in the mornings, even if he hadn't actually slept. At all. Maybe he needed some sleep first, but now that the day had started that would have to wait.