Sherlock frowned, lifting you and pulling his feet up before tugging you against his chest as he leaned back against the armrest. You gladly snuggled into him as you grumbled, “I'm sorry for throwing a spoon at you.”
He opened his mouth to say it was all right when you curled tightly into yourself and whimpered, fisting your hand into his shirt. He tightened his grip around you, tilting his head back to look at John, “She’s in pain. Isn’t there something we can do, John?”
John raised his head to look at the two of you, going back to his work with a small smile, “Looks like you’ve already done it.”
Sherlock looked back to you and found you’d fallen asleep, your nose tucked into his chest, and he rubbed his thumb down your arm as he leaned back to think, letting you get some rest on top of him as it seemed to be the only help he could offer.