"Reports are just coming in of fatal house fire in the Camden area." The newsreader's cultured tones filled the stillness of the Baker Street flat. "Six bodies, believed to be local gang members have been found in the shell of the burned out building, although cause of death has yet to be established…."
John felt a shudder run through the man lying with his head in his lap, and he ceased his gentle stroking through the dark curls.
"You okay?"
Sherlock hummed lightly, a sound that was neither agreement nor denial.
"Hungry?"
"No."
"You should eat."
"Why? What use is food?"
John sighed. Sherlock needed to eat, but right now an argument was the last thing he should have to deal with.
"Come to bed then, try to get some sleep. I won't say things will be better in the morning, but maybe it won't be quite so raw."
Silver-grey eyes turned up to him.
"In a while." A small frown creased Sherlock's forehead. "How did you do it?" he reached up a hand and allowed his fingertips to drift softly around John's eyes.
"I didn't lie, well not entirely." John had known this question would come. "The blindness was temporary, but it was obvious that as a blind man they thought they had no reason to fear me, stupid bastards!"