Joan sees that and sighs, rolling her eyes, throwing up her hand in exasperation. "Sherlock," she mutters.

To be fair, the drawer would have been stocked before they made their agreement, and Sherlock was being considerate, albeit inappropriate. But still.

"Hey..." she says, touching his hand. "Come back to me." She knows he's embarrassed, and she wants to keep him grounded, reiterate that they are safe and alone here, that their union is solid regardless of Sherlock's misguided attempt to be helpful.