John was on his feet in a second, sliding one of Sherlock's arms around his shoulders and holding the lean detective up with his other hand.

"Easy does it." He muttered gently, assisting the other man to the bathroom as he knew the charcoal was probably doing it's job. Sherlock felt a little warmer then usual, but nothing that indicated serious ills or reactions. Still, John's gaze was ever weary even as he helped Sherlock into the small room, only stopping when he remembered the shattered glass littering the floor. "Oh. Hold on a tick."

Bracing Sherlock against the door frame, John ran over to the closet to get a pair of hard bottomed slippers, crouching wordlessly to help slip them onto his friend's feet upon returning.

"Sorry about the mess." John finally said as he stood again.