Barely half an hour later the swimming pool is crawling with police, Sherlock goes over every detail of the event to Lestrade while John is being looked over by paramedics.

The doctor doesn't complain as the people work around him, usually he argued and let them know he is able to care for his own injuries but at the moment John is in shock. He barely feels them patching him up. The only injuries he has are the ones he received from the Golem though the drug Jim had used on him did dehydrate him. They give him painkillers before giving him the okay to go home, John finds a wall to lean against, waiting for Sherlock to finish.

The tall man stalks towards John, looks irritated as he mutters to himself; "Idiots, useless, completed moronic." He doesn't pause as he pass the doctor.

John follows silently.

They grab a cab and Sherlock sits hunched in his seat, texting furiously and glaring at the screen. "Stupid, fat lard." The man continues his fingers moving rapidly without pausing.

John is slumped in his seat, staring dully out the window. He'd gone numb again but he is too tired, too stressed, too everything else he needed to be. He didn't want to think anymore, closing his eyes, and letting his mind drift. John stayed that way until the car came to a stop.

He slides out and slowly moves inside after Sherlock, who had nearly sprinted ahead without waiting. The doctor climbs up the stairs dragging his feet, he hangs his jacket on the hook next to the door, and kicked off his shoes. John goes over to his chair and collapses into it.

The overstuffed chair that he had claimed as his almost on day one after moving in isn't the comfiest, it is an old chair. The stuffing had been beaten down and didn't really deserve the name 'overstuffed". The arms are starting to look worn and peeling. Mrs. Hudson isn't even sure where the chair had come from and assumed it had always been in the flat. All and all the chair looked about ready to retire to the dump but at this moment in time John had never sat in anything more comfortable in his life.

He sinks into the cushions as much as he possibly can, his tense muscle slowly starting to unwind. The pains from John's injuries are starting to come through with the lax and are twinging at the edges of his mind. He releases several deep breaths and messages at the bruises on his arms. John sighs, closing his eyes. Around him the flat is silent and helping with calming that comes natural from the place itself.

There's movement that startles him slight but John keeps his eyes closed and doesn't feel like opening them just yet. The darkness his lids bring is grounding John's sluggish mind.

Quietly shuffling steps move closer, stopping in front of the doctor's chair. For several minutes there isn't any noise other than the usual sounds of the city. The quiet rumbling of passing cars and planes overhead. Softly a hand touches his arm, the weight is slight but it seeps warmth into John's whole being.

The doctor slowly opens his eyes.

Sherlock is towering above him just looking down at him. A gentle smile on his face, a smile that John alone had the privilege to see. He look rumpled, the bruises from the Golem stand out purple against his pale skin, his hair is a riot, thought his eyes look down on John with interest.

That too warms John and he even starts to believe he had nothing to worry about because this man and his smile is the only thing he needs. He gently slips his fingers in between Sherlock's and squeezes them. The moment is peaceful and exactly what they need after the turmoil of the evening.

"I'm sorry." The tall man murmurs.

The doctor gives him a confused look, Sherlock is looking at him with sad eyes.

"I got you into this," Sherlock tells him kneeling down in front of John, "I put you in Moriarty's sights and I was too arrogant thinking you would be safe."

John shakes his head, "I'm the one who sought you out remember. I saved your life and that brought us together, I would change that no matter what," He argues, "You are the only thing that I've ever wanted in my life."

"But John.." The man tries but is silenced by John.

"No one is responsible in this, it's only Moriarty. He's been killing people for years, remember Carl Powers. Even if I didn't know you I'd still be in danger with that nutter out there. Because of this we have a better idea of what we'll be facing." He points out gently.

Sherlock sighs and his smile widened. "Have I told you lately that you're brilliant?" He asks laying his head in John's lap.

The doctor finally begins to feel his body relaxing completely with the comfort of Sherlock pressed against him. John starts running his fingers through the man's hair, enjoying the softness of the curls running over his skin. They can go back and forth on this forever, which is probably what will happen in the coming weeks. In the moment he's still a bit in shock, it would set in after a few days, and the real stress of the whole thing would start to weigh heavily.