"I," Watson said, burrowing close against Holmes's side without releasing his hand, "am very good at not dying. I've managed it several times already. I hope you're as good at it." He gave a funny sort of laugh. "I could provide some helpful hints, if you wanted."

The idea that this person, whoever he might be, might successfully manage to kill Holmes was unbearable, far more unbearable than that Watson himself might die. Whatever that said about Watson, well, he wasn't keen on examining it too closely. He draped himself over Holmes's legs, savouring his warmth, the smell of his tobacco, everything.

"You think it was another warning, then? I can't say I care much for his methods of communication."