Sherlock was looking at him. He rubbed his head a bit. He noticed Lestrade was annoyed but happy. He wondered if Lestrade was faking the annoyed bit. He was trying to work out what Lestrade was happy about.
He just raised an eyebrow when Lestrade didn't comment.
The detective began to look at the files. It was at leasts something to keep his mind off the bad things. That was if he could focus on the files, as his mind wasn't as organized as normal. "Of couse they are linked." Sherlock rolled his eyes like ot was the most obvious thing.
Hearing the mention of the wharehouse caused his body to tense and the fear to enter his eyes again. Though he was panicking again. He wondered if Moriarty was behind those murders.
"What ever ... go ahead." he wasn't that focused on what Lestrade was saying and trying to focus on the case files.

Lestrade didn't manage to restrain the smile as he saw Sherlock getting his minde deeper and deeper into the case. Luckily, the other man wasn't even looking at him anymore, only reading through the files, focusing on them and probably not even really hearing what Greg was asking him. "Good, I'll get my bag then, I'll be right back." he said and fished the keys of his car out of his coatpocket, then left he room, heading own the stairs and out the door, glancing up and down the street as he got the bag he kept in his car for this kind of days, where he didn't make it home for some reason or another.
As he headed back inside, Mrs.Hudson was already waiting for him at the foot of the stairs, looking worried and expectant and carrying a mug that smelled deliciously of coffee. She held it out for him. "The boys are more for tea, but you are more the coffee type, are you not?" she asked in that usual motherly way of hers. She insisterd not being the housekeeper, but whenever the need arose, she seemingly couldn't resist to clean up a bit or make some tea or food. Greg gave her thankful smile. "Thank you, Mrs.Hudson, I can not survive without it." he exaggerated and gained himself a smile, which vanished all too soon though. "How is Sherlock doig? He seems unusually quiet. Is he still sleping?" she inquired and Lestreade wondered how much he was allowed to tell. Nothing, perhaps, but he couldn't leave the poor Mrs.Hudson worried and not knowing anything. "Should I call John? I am sure he'd be more than glad to come back." she offered and Greg vigorously shook his head. "No, no thank you, Mrs.Hudson. I have given Sherlock a case, he's looking through it at the moment." eh tried to explain the silence and saw that Mrs.Hudson seemed a little relieved but still suspicious and worried. "And I will be staying for a while to look after him, so no worries." he finished and thanked her again for the coffee, but not giving her a chance to ask much more as he headed up the stairs and back into the licing room. He closed the door behind him and set his bag down, sitting down at the edge of the couch to drink his coffee, which he really needed after that kind of night and he hoped Mrs.Hudson would have some more for after the shower.

Sherlock was looking at him. "Uh huh," he wasn't even listening. He was looking over the case files. If Moriarty was behind this case, he didn't think it would be as simple as Moriarty comitting the murders. He knew Moriarty usually had his men to do work like that and avoided been caught.
He closed his eyes trying to think for a moment and focus on all the possiblities. He was quite zoned out for awhile. He knew it would be hard when he needed to go see rthe crime scene but he was stuck in his appartment.
Knowning his head hurt and his mind wasn't as oganized he paused for awhile to play his violin. But even after awhile of playing that, He lay on his side and had tears in his eyes and was shaking as memories of his kidnapping were still bothering him.
He closed his eyes.
The detective didn't want anybody to know he was having these breakdowns. He was sure it would be all over the media as well. He curled up. He did momentarily think of textng John but he didn't.

Sherlock was deep in thoughts when Greg finished his coffee and got up, grabbing his bag and heading to the bath. He quickly searched for a towl and got into the shower, enjoying the feeling of the hot water realxing his muscles and letting his tension bleed out a little. He sighed, then hurried to finish washing up. He wasn't comfortable with leaving Sherlock alone for so long, even if he did say he was fine and everything. He didn't look it after all, and he was still not back to his usual self. Greg stepped out of the shower and toweled off, pulling a pair of jeans and a dress-shirt, the latter a little crinkled but still better than the worn one, and dressed, buttoning up the shirt as he headed back into the living room, refreshed.
He had been sure he had heard the sound of a violin while he had been in the shower and was expecting Sherlock to sit there with the instrument in hand, doing whatever as he was thinking. But what he found was certainly unexpected. He found him curled up on the couch, a position that had to be hurting with his injuries, and shaking and obviously not noticing or caring that Greg was back. He stared for a full minute, at a loss.
Finally, he decided to do something. Greg went over to the couch and sat down, gently placing a hand on Sherlocks shoulder. "Sherlock." he said softly, trying not to startle the man too much. "Sherlock, I.." he trailed off, shaking his head to himself. "I'm sorry I didn't come sooner." he whispered, staring at and out the clostest window, before gazing back down at the detective. "If there is anything I can do.... talk, not talk, call John... Let me know, please."

Sherlock was looking at him, his eyes full of pain. "I'm fine" He whispered, He curled up more. He didn't want to cave so easily. His eyes were red from crying so hard as well. He knew that he needed to try and move on.
He was startled at Gregs hand on him and he panicked and backed up.
"Sooner wouldn't make a difference... uhh Gavin," He muttered. Not caring to get Lestrades first name right as normal. He knew that annoyed everybody including Lestrade. But Sherlock also wasn't even thinking clearly.
He closed his eyes and was panicking more. "F...Fine call John if that will give you peace of mind." He was sobbing harder. He didn't want John to see him like this. But he knew it might still help.

Greg pulled back his hand when he saw how Sherlock was reacting to the touch. He sighed and shook his head, although the other man couldn't see that since he had closed his eyes firmly. He almost managed not to comment, but.. "Greg." he corrected him with a scowl.
But he knew Sherlock didn't actually want him to call John. And Greg was not yet ready to give up on trying to help him himself.
"You are not fine." he said softly, watching Sherlock sob and panic and really just wanted to hug him or something. But he obviously hadn't reacted too well to being touched. He turned, sitting sideways so that he would look directly at Sherlock.
"Sherlock." he waited a bit for a reaction. "Sherlock look at me." he said. "I'm here, okay? You're safe now! I've got my gun with me and I'm not going anywhere, alright?" he told him, keeping his voice low and soft, trying his best to calm the other man.

The detective was looking at him. His eyes were wide with fear. He was shaking a bit more. Sherlock had tears in his eyes. He really hated feeling so mentally broke down. He was crying a whole lot more. He shivered a bit.
"I feel like my mind isn't normal." He whispered. "I don't feel normal."
He didn't want to admit it but he did. He had tears in his eyes. The detective was upset.
Sherlock looked at him and then back at the floor. He seemed to just need alot of help. He had thought that he could fix his mind himself. But now it was seeming more and more likely like he needed somebody to help him. He sighed a bit.

Greg looked back at him, reocignizing the fear in his eyes, the shaking the tears. He had seen it several times already on vitcims to kidnappings and the like. It was a normal reaction. But to see it on Sherlock, who was anything but normal..
He kept watching him even as he looked away. But he had finally managed to get him to look at him for a bit. "I'm going to touch you now." he said calmly, warning him to keep him from recoiling like he had before. Greg reached out, carefully placing a hand on his arm and left it at that for a minute. Then he slid a little closer and placed his other hand slowly on Sherlocks knee.
He looked at him intently. "This is normal, Sherlock. It's a completly normal reaction, and I believe, no, I know you can beat this."
Greg slid even closer and lifted his hands, reaching out once more. "I am going to pull you close now." And so he did. He lightly grabbed the other mans shoulders and easily turned and slid him closer on the smooth leather of the sofa. Careful not to put pressure on his injuries, he adjusted him against himself. He had one knee drawn up and resting against the back of the couch, the other down on the floor and Sherlock in between, his back resting against the drawn up knee and held in place by his arm around his shoulders. Gregs other hand was on Sherlocks knees.
"Is this alright?" he asked softly, just in case, slackening the his grip on the man who was leaning against his chest now.

Sherlock was looking at him. His eyes focused on Lestrade. "Its not normal for me, I am never afraid. Moriarty never gets to me." He stated. Trying to convince himself more than anything.
He was still quite shakey. He knew Moriarty would be pleased to see him like this. When he was tied up he had been trying to stay as strong as he possibly could.
This time Sherlock didn't freak out from his touch. Though his heart was beating fast. He was clearly still quite scared and worked up. He didn't know how to feel.

He wanted to be back to normal. He didn't want it to seem like Moriarty had won. He looked hard at him . "Please don't tell the others, it will be all over the media and people will think I am broken and cant work again." He sighed "Plus I'll never hear the end of it from that idoit Anderson." He really didn't like working with any of them.
Sherlock tried to relax as Lestrade pulled him closer. He closed his eyes trying to calm down. He was looking wild eyed and terrified really. He knew it would be hard to recover.

When there was no sign of recoiling or panick, Greg realxed a bit and tightened his grib a little.
"And because you are you, I believe you will get over this real quick. You are home now, with me, being afraid here is illogical, is it not?" he said, attempting himself at Sherlocks kind of logic. If it didn't work, Sherlock would just make fun of him for it and even that would have accomplished something.
"I already told you, did I not? Noone knows about any of this. I didn't tell anyonre where I was going when I left the crime scene. I had never called reinforcements, that was just a bluff, and I still can't believe it worked. All I said when I grabbed the files was that I was letting you in on this case. Neither Donovan nor Anderson are even suspecting any of this, alright?" he explained himself in more detail, to make sure there would be no doubt left for Sherlock regarding the matter.

Sherlock was looking at him. His eyes seemed hazy "Emotions are mostly illogical." He muttered, He was looking at him. He was shaking and leaned agaisnt him. Normally he wouldn't do such things.
"I know... just making sure you don't tell them in future." He was shaking more. He hoped he would be more his normal self when John was home. He knew John just knew when things were off.
He also knew acting like nothing was wrong would be harder infront of John.
The detective was so worked up from fear, he felt like throwing up. He was breathing deeply and trying to calm down. He had a hand to his mouth. His fear had never been so bad before.

That Sherlock was actually leaning against him was all he needed to know that he was really besides himself. Not that Greg didn't like it, cause, strangely, he rather did and even tightened his grip a little more to keep the other man close, but the other man really had to be out of it to allow himself to get so personal with someone besides John. Their relationship Greg was still not very sure off. They came off as a couple, but clearly, they weren't since John always had girlfriends. And this was really not the time to be thinking about this, Greg told himself.
He looked down and noticed Sherlock holding a hand to his mouth, breathing deeply and looking a little green. Greg let go of his shoulder to slowly rub circles on the other mans back, the way his mother had used to do for him when he'd been little. "It's alright, Sherlock." he murmured softly, not really knowing what he was saying, just trying to help the other man calm down somehow. "Ssshhh.." he made. "It's fine, everything's alright." he went on, inside panicking a little himself. He wasn't sure whether he was handling this right, maybe calling John would really help Sherlock more than his own clumsy attempts at helping him.

The detective knew he would never lean on anytbody like that. Not even John. He shivered a bit more. He knew that many people saw him and John as a couple. But they were really good friends. John always claimed he wasn't even into men.
He sighed and closed his eyes.
The sick feeling was increasing. Even with Lestrade rubbing his back. "Lestrade... Just get me a bucket." He gasped. He covered his mouth. He really didn't think he could hold off.
Sherlock knew he was really worked up and finding it hard.
"How is everything ,....," He started to shout till he had to clamp his hand over his mouth again.
Sherlock was shaking, He groaned.

Without moving too much, Greg hurriedly stretched to the side, grabbing the rubbish bin and pulled it towards them, then lifted it up and held it out for Sherlock, who was trying to say something but had to stop to clamp a hand over his mouth again as he turned a little green. He was shaking even harder now and groaned.
Meanwhile Greg was now really at a loss for what to do. He waited a bit, to see whether SHerlock needed to use the bin.

When Sherlock was doing a bit better, or at least wasn't covering his mouth anymore and the green had turned back to simply sickly pale, Lestrade carefully slid away from him and got up. WIth one gentle but swift motion, he lifted Sherlock up, princess style, which usually would have been hilarious, but right then he wasn't even thinking much about it. "I'm getting you back into bed." he stated and, surprised at how well he was doing lifting Sherlock and carrying him, got him back into his bedroom and on the bed. He piled pillows behind him and covered him with his blanket, then went to get the bin and place it right next to the bed, should it be needed again.
Greg sat down at the side of the bed and looked Sherlock over. "Should I get you some more tea? I think Mrs.Hudson should have some that would be good for you stomach." he offered, then got up and turned up the heater. "I think you should try to sleep some more, even if you just doze off for a bit."

Sherlock groaned and held his stomach with his other hand. He didn't want to get sick infront of Lestrade, He didn't want to appear that weak. He though knew he couldn't handle it longer. He just takes the bin and throws up.
He had tears in his eyes. He hated throwing up. He wanted to be back to the case. He hoped that he would feel better quickly. His head seemed to be hurting more now. He was pale and just looked to Lestrade.

He looked at him, "Ok," Sherlock mumbled. He seemed a bit ashamed he had thrown up infront of him. He just lets Lestrade carry him. He knows he doesnt want anybody to know he had been carried around like this.
The detective lay on his bed and he closed his eyes a bit.
"More tea would be great."
Sherlock just nodded. Normally he would protest, but he had no energy.

That Sherlock wasn't protesting at all, about anything and just agreed with whatever Greg was offering and telling him to do, was probably the most worrying of it all. He sat there for a little longer, watching the other man, whose eyes were closed. He was clearly not sleeping yet and Greg was hesitant to leave him alone in this state, even for a second. He gently patted the other mans blanket covered knee. "I will be right back." he told him softly and got up.
"Are you hurting? I think the pain meds they gave you at the hopsital must have worn off. Should I get you some?" he asked, knwing though, that for them to work, Sherlock would have to be fine enough to not throw them up again though.
As Greg headed out of the room, he quickly knotted the bag from the bin and disposed of it, getting a new one, before he would head down to Mrs. Hudson again. No need for Sherlock to have anything around to make him feel even sicker than he already did. And after everything Greg had already seen in his carreer, this didn't even faze him.
Hurriedly, he headed down, to Mrs.Hudson, this time not explaining much, just asking her for some herbal tea that might help with settling an upset stomach and went right back up, pouring the tea himself and carrying t back to Sherlocks room, where he set it on the bedside table.
"So, pain meds?" he asked again, not having gotten any yet, because he wanted to wait for an answer from Sherlock. If the man didn't trust himself to keep them down, it wouldn't do much good, after all.

Sherlock was closing his eyes, his head was aching. He knew that pain medication would help. He just didn't want to take any on an upset stomach. But also he was trying to be tough and avoid taking them.
"I have a headache and my injuries hurt," He replied."But no meds."
The detective was very pale. His hands were tightly gripped around the blanket. He was clearly in pain. Sherlock refused to give in and take any. "Won't keep them down and don't need them."
He knew not needing them was a lie. But he really reallly wasn't going to cave if he could help it.
The detective takes his tea and sipped it slowly. He was looking around where he was.
He really hoped John would never find out what happened. He knew the man was worried. He could see Lestrade was already worried, Even from the little details Sherlock had given him.

Greg didn't comment about the meds. He was sure Sherlock did actually need them, but it was no use trying to get him to take them when he was still placing it tough. And, of course, when he wouldn't be able to keep them in his stomach anyway.
He sat down as Sherlock looked around his own room, as if he had forgotten where he was.
Watching over him, he took the mug back when Sherlock had finished and set it back on the bedside table. He waited a bit, looking around and trying to think of something else he could do. "Can I do anything for you to.. I don't know, get you to sleep?" he asked. He knew Sherlock played the violin, so he was pretty sure the man liked classical music to a ertain degree. He also couldn't really imagine him liking much different kinds of music. And maybe, he had something that calmed him down? Soothed his nerves or something? Though the fact that Sherlock normally didn't sleep much, made Greg doubt that it.
He wanted to offer to leave the room, to give the detective some privacy, but he wasn't going to do that. He didn't think it would help any to leave the man by himself.

Sherlock was still very weak. He knew that he was going to need time before he was better. He wished that it would happen quicker than what it was. He looked at him as he sipped his tea.
"MMM I'll be fine," he whispered and he lay there closing his eyes.
He knew he was tired and would probably fall asleep. He doubted that he would sleep too long.
Sherlock was slowly falling asleep.
When the detective was sleeping, He seemed to have nightmares. He didn't wake up though. He just moaned and twitched in his sleep. He awoke hours later and sighed deeply.

Geg watched for a bit, as Sherlock closed his eyes and fell asleep almost right away.
When his berathing evened out, Greg carefully got up and siletnly left the room. He sighed, scrubbing his face with the heels of his hands and went into the living room, looking around. He couldn't think of anything to do for himself. The case didn't seem to be going any further until Sherlock could thik clearly about it all. He took a look at his phone. A few missed calls and messages. He took a look. All of them were from Donovan asking him what he was doing. He sighed again, and called her.
The next hour, he spend discussing, almost fighting, with his subordinate over the phone. When it was finally over, he could hear no more of it.
Greg heard a moan coming from Sherlocks room and got up to take a look. Sherlock, it seemed, was having nightmares. He was twitching and moaning and grimacing a little in his sleep, although it seemed that they were not bad enough to wake him up. Greg considered doing it himself, but then again, he wasn't sure whether Sherlock would appreciate it.
He sat down at th edge of the bed again and looked around, his eyes travelling over the bed. HE hesitated, then lay down, telling himself, it was just for a bit. Just for a bit... in a matter of seconds, he fell asleep.