"All right." Watson smoothed his hand over Holmes's hair, his touch tender, his voice hushed. "What shall I speak to you about, then? Shall I just tell you how much I love you? Because I do, you know."

It felt important beyond belief to make this clear, especially now, especially when things were so fragile and so dangerous. The idea that Holmes might die without that being explicitly clear was horrendous.

"I could read to you. Anything at all."