"This is rather less unique an attempt to kill us," Watson murmured, giving a vague laugh. He smiled down at Holmes, finding a certain guilty enjoyment in having his shoes removed for him. "I'm not sure what option is better, really: that our friend has decided to kill us in a far more pedestrian way than his previous attempt, or that there's two entirely separate people out to kill us."

Was this the nature of their lives? Always dangerous, always on the edge? He had expected a safe, quiet life when he'd returned to London; it had been anything but. He loved every minute of it, truthfully.