Santana was lucky: he was in fact 'decent.' He was actually fully clothed, lying on top of the bedsheets with his shoes on, quite comfortable.

Sherlock didn't respond immediately. A second passed, then two--finally, after the third or fourth second he opened his pale eyes, which fixed on her for a moment before he finally spoke.

"Oh, it's you."

He made no move to actually get up, however, and certainly didn't look even remotely concerned--or even especially interested.

Internally, his mind was running ahead--Day wanted to see him now? Interesting... he couldn't fathom what that was about. He figured he'd stay in bed a bit longer, see what he could get this child to reveal before he bothered to get up and grab his coat over it.