"No wonder you kept it secret, telling the truth would ruin your reputation," he shoots back, moving closer.

Still feeling dizzy, he backs away from the hand and stares at it.

"I don't trust myself not to be cruel right now. Leave your shirt off."

Crouching down, he begins to unravel the bandages, carefully reaching behind and around until they're loose enough to drop.

"Eyes closed," he warns, rubbing his hands together to warm them before gently placing them over the bruises and concentrating on healing thoughts. He still hasn't quite worked it out yet, but he's improving. He fixes as much as he can, already quite emotionally drained. But it's enough to make moving more comfortable, if not painless, and also to heal the bruising.

"Right. That'll do for now, your face can stay as it is a little longer," he says, dropping down onto his bottom in front of Sherlock with a deep sigh.

He still kind of wanted to hit him some more.

"I half expected you to reappear. I thought it would be sooner, should have figured, you do seem to like suspense."