"I know you're not afraid of him. That's the stupidest mistake you've made so far. He will kill you, John. At least one of your four deaths will be my fault through my involvement with him. At least. And that is even with a fair bit of distance in place."

Sherlock leans down so as not to stand so high over him, wanting to make himself very clear. "I cannot pretend to Moriarty that I do not care about you. He'd only try harder to prove me wrong. Now, we know he has a thing for large performances and flashy attacks. Bombs in my vicinity will likely take you out as well as me and then what? If we're both dead there isn't much we can do and against a bomb you're just a meat shield with limited cover. Keeping your sleeping quarters further from mine does not limit the time you spend with me, John, it merely puts that much more space between us during the nighttime hours to limit the chances of both of us meeting the same end in our sleep." He puts his hand out to rest it on John's shoulder again. "You're not abandoning me. I'm not alone anymore. You're helping me, John. Protecting you will always be of great assistance."