Holmes nods, aware he's being a little bit of a child, but he's been in a fog for so long now, and now the fog physically hurts, and he doesn't really care. He falls asleep for the first time in days, and though it's a good sleep, he drifts closer to awareness at times and finds himself hot or shivery or in such pain from his wound that it's difficult to fall back into a hard sleep. Watson's comforting beside him the whole time, though, which helps.

His nap ends, however, when he moves in his sleep and his leg jolts in pain and he starts awake. He's still hot, still miserable, and still dizzy, especially now that his body's flushed with energy after he jerked in reaction to the pain in his leg. He groans and pushes away from Watson, heat radiating off him, and he shoves at the blankets.

"Damn -- infection, damn fever. Damn blackguard. Damn everything," he declares darkly, and he gropes around for that cloth so he can put it over his eyes.