When Sherlock's hold on him loosens, John is finally able to relax a little, panting as he struggles to catch his breath, taking it in gulps. He didn't actually think Sherlock wouldn't listen to him when he told him to stop, and the thought that he might not even consider him is somewhat alarming to him, and even a bit hurtful in a way. He trusted Sherlock... but then he had also trusted him not to assault him first thing in the morning, either, but apparently, he was wrong about that, too.

He's about to shut himself down like he always does when he needs to emotionally distance himself from a problem, right up until he hears Sherlock's apology come in over his shoulder. He frowns just a little, mostly confused by it all, and he turns his head the best that he can to get a better look at him and let him see in turn the incredulous expression he's got.

John... still has no idea what to think of what had just happened. He knows he's upset, and he also knows he and his body are both very confused. He hates that his body liked the struggle of being unable to breathe properly, and he hates it even more that he had to figure it out like this. Of course, the thought had been on his mind since Sherlock brought it up the night before, but he wasn't planning on revisiting it any time soon, but clearly Sherlock had other plans. He doesn't like this one little bit, and he really doesn't like what he's feeling from Sherlock's body and what he might and might not be feeling.

Finally, he swallows hard and begins to push himself again, trying to stand up and slide Sherlock off of him. "I'd... I 'd like to get up now."