He could feel his heart slow, his hands start to shake, pain start to slide back. Drear, tiredness, depression. He'd make a comment on motherhood if he had one. Instead, with a deep frown, Sherlock pushes his way up to his feet and turns abrupt. It almost looks like he's grabbing something to his chest by the way his shoulders curl. Silently, he just walks up the stairs.

Well. Good. Sharing time was over. They can go back to never talking about this ever again. Fair is fair.