Those names didn't sound familiar, and honestly John was beyond the point of caring. Whether it was a good thing or not remained to be seen, but Lexi had at least made him feel comforted enough to trust the ones picking them up would not force him to do anything with the body he didn't want. The body. Sherlock's body. It was hard not to break down infront of the vampire. "He should have let me help. He drugged me. I could have prevented this. I could have bloody done something." Worthlessness about summed up how he felt, he couldn't even be there with Sherlock when he died. What sort of friend had that made him?
He knew Lexi tried, he didn't blame her. But Sherlock's death was a thing that was going to weigh heavy on him for a long time to come. It was already on his face, he was worn emotionally and physically. There wasn't much more he could take. He was barely able to clean him up with a ginger but shaking hand. His were normally so very steady, the hands of a sniper had to be. This wasn't just any victim though, this was Sherlock Holmes. His best friend and partner.
"Can't stop..not yet. Not until he's.." John's voice trailed off and he just nodded to her words. He wouldn't have turned down any of those options at this point save for the stopping, but he could no longer find his voice. He was cleaning blood off of Sherlock. There was a body infront of him. John suddenly felt as though he was going to be ill.