"I should hope not. I'd be very jealous indeed." He squirms closer to Watson and pulled the blanket in tighter around himself; a chill steals over him suddenly and he wills it away, burrowing closer still. The only change from how miserable Holmes felt before is that now he's physically miserable; internally he's just as frustrated with himself, and -- well, no, he's more guilty. He's just as cranky, however.

"I hurt, John," he says, petulant, and reaches up to take the cloth off his forehead so he can instead turn his head and tuck it against Watson's neck.