Holmes steadies himself and shifts, though it's difficult to move, and his head throbs unpleasantly. He manages it, and immediately closes his eyes again. He tries to still himself, to find some kind of comfort or peace, and he doesn't really achieve it. He huffs a breath, his cheeks blowing out, and he sighs, breathing in Watson's comforting smell. It helps, too, that he blocks out the sight of Watson with his hurt-but-not shoulder and leg; still, with his eyes closed, he can see the blood, can almost smell it, and he doesn't really have the mental faculties to argue with himself.

"Perhaps -- perhaps if you speak." He can feel himself drifting, but he doesn't want to go too far away from Watson. "There are voices -- perhaps if you talk over them."