Mrs. Hudson still believes in him... [The only other attendant at Sherlock's funeral. Molly, Lestrade, and Angelo had sent flowers, at least. Mycroft, as well. John had seriously considered just throwing that arrangement into the bins.]

It doesn't matter here. [John rolls his shoulders and immediately regrets it as the motion pulls at his chest. His breath catches in his throat, and he winces.] I'll just... I'll rest in here, but you need to clean your shoulder after the way I wrenched it. Please.