"Sherlock...?" Howard's speech is slurred, as if the words are just dripping out of him instead of being spoken. "My head hurts."
He tries to pull away from Sherlock's hand over his forehead. More coherent thoughts are starting to coalesce, but the basic wants and desires still rule for this second, and he doesn't like his space invaded, especially by someone he doesn't especially like. The facts of where he is kick in, and he realizes he's in the Arena, and that he's with someone he recently had a pretty nasty fight with, and pulling away seems to give way to wanting to escape, and he draws his hand over the wetness on his face-
-oh. Blood. His blood. Maybe Howard should be bothered that that doesn't hugely surprise him. The world tips again and Howard keels sideways. He's in no position to run away, so he decides to plead instead, revealing his metaphorical belly.
"What happened? You know where John is?" It's difficult to see on his dark eyes, but one pupil is more dilated than the other. There's blood in one ear, too. "Sherlock, what happened?"
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He tries to pull away from Sherlock's hand over his forehead. More coherent thoughts are starting to coalesce, but the basic wants and desires still rule for this second, and he doesn't like his space invaded, especially by someone he doesn't especially like. The facts of where he is kick in, and he realizes he's in the Arena, and that he's with someone he recently had a pretty nasty fight with, and pulling away seems to give way to wanting to escape, and he draws his hand over the wetness on his face-
-oh. Blood. His blood. Maybe Howard should be bothered that that doesn't hugely surprise him. The world tips again and Howard keels sideways. He's in no position to run away, so he decides to plead instead, revealing his metaphorical belly.
"What happened? You know where John is?" It's difficult to see on his dark eyes, but one pupil is more dilated than the other. There's blood in one ear, too. "Sherlock, what happened?"