Sherlock watches him, smiling very faintly when he sees that John has gone for the nerdy specs. Sherlock likes those. He can imagine the overall stress of reading is hardly doing him favors, though. He flicks his cigarette out the window--want to nag about fire hazards?--and gets up, picking up John's communication device. Where's his? Pocket probably. Can't be bothered.

"There's a girl on here says she can heal. Might be a potion in that book you uncovered that could help you. And if I kill you, you will come back to life fully restored. Those are the three non-traditional options I can recommend if you're in too great a discomfort."