"No, not because it will make me quiet," Watson protested, though he rose. "Because just perhaps, I might know better than you on this one subject. Just perhaps. At the very least it might cool you down. Don't go anywhere."

He slipped out into the sitting room, and down the hall to the washroom to fill a basin with cool water. As soon as he was out of Holmes's sight, he sagged a little, let his anxiety and fear wash over him, his exhaustion. By the time he returned to the bedroom, he had schooled himself back into calm.

He didn't know what to say; for lack of anything else, Watson stepped up to Holmes and kissed him on the forehead, basin and cloth balanced in one hand.