[ John observes the reaction, fingers twitching away momentarily at the tremble before seeking contact again. He delicately puts his fingers around the thumb portion of the wing, trying to slowly pull it to an extended position so he could see how it had healed. From what he understood, magic could seal the wound, but blood loss was another issue. Hence the pills. ]

We're in a village called Luceti. I woke up here... eight days ago?

[ As if nothing had happened, and yet John's doing everything he can not to look at Sherlock. His tongue flickers across his lips. ]

There's some written information about it you can look over. Since you'll be just as you are for a few more days, you'll have plenty of time.

Suffice to say, we're not in London anymore and this?

[ A faint squeeze to the other's wing. ]

This is just the start. There's a barcode on the back of your neck as well.

[ His tone doesn't change, but his eyes finally move over. ]

What do you remember?

[ Because Lestrade hadn't known. Yet still, the way that Sherlock had looked at him last night... he knew something. ]