Sherlock continues to grumble incoherently until John gets him to his room. His bed suddenly looks like the promised land, and he collapses on it without delay. It doesn't distract him entirely. He needs to stay on top of the situation. All the suspicious money being pumped into that church, all from a pharmaceutical company-- Another pang that feels a knife is slowly creeping along his stomach lining keeps Sherlock from continuing that thought as he curls up on his mattress. No, there's something more pressing for him and John now.

"Yes. You saw that post, I know you did." He tries to sit up, and only manages to press his shoulders against the headboard. "He was at the church."