"I think you do seem in slightly better spirits," Watson observed, smiling a little. He set the basin on the bedside table and knelt on the bed. He wrung out the washcloth, and began to sponge Holmes down, starting at his chest.

It was a bit strange; this was an act he had done many times before, but never for someone he loved, and it was a strange mix of professionalism and tenderness. He ran his fingers over Holmes's abdomen, sighing.

"Does it help?" he asked.