Under most circumstances, she wouldn't let him get away with this. Would insist that no, really, she's fine, she can make it. Really.

But now she's worn, in so many ways, still in pain, still just a few steps away from shock. And Sherlock feels so guilty, for letting her get hurt, for not being able to fix her correctly.

She's going to let him take care of her.

She nods, and slips her good arm over his shoulder, around his neck, holds the bad arm against her stomach.