"Normally," Watson chuckled, drowsily, "when you tell me something like that, it has rather a sinister connotation. Would you take advantage of me in the state I'm in now?" But he laid back, inhaling the smells he was surrounded with, smells of Holmes, of comfort and being loved. Perhaps he was a bit loopy from the morphine, but he hardly cared just now.

"If the snake was a warning," he said, looking up at the ceiling, "it was a rather oblique one."