A/N: I wrote this before we knew the conclusion to the pool scene so it still follows the idea there was some kind of explosion.
He always seemed more fragile these days, since the incident.
They hadn't talked about it, both hiding under the guise that there was nothing to say, that it had been like any other case, that they both hadn't almost died.
John shook it off, endeavouring to focus on the present as Sherlock glided around the crime scene, more stiffly than he had in the past but he was still healing and that was to be expected. Sherlock had been sleeping even less than before. He used to catch Sherlock sleeping, splayed out on the couch, once a week at least and often after the conclusion of a large case. Now day he seemed to be surviving on micro naps, something John knew wasn't good for him. He'd begun to be snippy, picking more arguments with John; little things that normally didn't matter to a 'superior mind' like his were suddenly creating World War 3 in their flat.
Not that he could really tell him off for it, he knew how it had affected both of them; John was also sleeping and eating less. He couldn't seem to muster up the enthusiasm for much more than a cup of tea at the best of times and he'd started with a healthy appetite.
He caught Lestrade's eyes, he was trying to stare holes in him for some reason. He glanced back over at Sherlock who was reaching up to run his finger over the top of a bookcase and had to stare at him for a moment before he realised what was wrong.
Sherlock was wearing his jacket inside out.
He groaned inwardly, already feeling sorry for his friend. Anyone else and it would be viewed as a normal, everyday mistake. Sherlock would take it as a sign of weakness and go on the attack if he saw anyone notice.
He quickly scanned the room, making note of the people who had seemed to have noticed and keeping an eye on them in case he needed to do any emergency death staring to shut them up.
Sherlock made a little impatient gesture with hand, indicating he wanted John to come over to him, to fulfil his job as a sounding board.
He picked his way carefully across the room, the room was littered with evidence, only to have Sherlock grab him by the forearm and drag him to the body as soon as he was within grabbing distance. Sherlock pulled him so that they were both crouching over the body.
"What is everyone staring at?" he hissed at John as he moved his gloved hands over the body, checking for things that only he could see.
"I don't…"
Sherlock flicked a sharp look at him causing John to sigh in resignation and catch one of his inside out jacket sleeves.
Sherlock stared at it for a moment before smirking at John.
"I was wondering how long it would take for you to see it, it only took," he checked his phone, "37 minutes and that was with Lestrade's help. Tsk tsk, you need to wake up John. How can I expect you to be useful on cases if you can't even notice the obvious?"
John couldn't help it, he started giggling and before he knew it Sherlock had joined him. He was aware of Lestrade look of equal parts confusion and disapproval but he couldn't stop.
Things might be ok after all, John thought to himself as he met Sherlock's eyes again and a fresh wave of giggling started.
Lestrade just shook his head and left them to it.