"I ought to be tired, yes," he tells Sherlock, eyes opening at the first brush of his hand...and then again when it stops. He'd been contented in between those times. It's not often someone has sought to comfort him physically in his adult life. Not Sarah, not any of his other girlfriend. Lestrade, on a few occasions where he felt the need to pat his back. But otherwise, and for the last year or so, John had been physically isolated.

It hasn't done wonders for him in the end. He's not the same person as before and while that's a good thing on some level...he still really wishes that Sherlock would have kept it up just that. That small grounded touch.

John's got no problem with being a touchstone.

The flounce of long limbs behind him, however, is cause for a smile and John gives Sherlock as much space as he'll need, even if there's a chance of the curve of his back touching Sherlock's shoulder or arm.

"These last few days have been painfully long."