"Oh, my dear -- " He threads his fingers into Watson's hair and holds him close, and his mind touches on the irony of him being the sick one comforting Watson, but it isn't really a hardship. "Ssh," he murmurs, and he buries his nose in Watson's hair, he tugs Watson over him, tangling their limbs together. "Ssh, my dear John. I won't. I won't go anywhere. I love you."