"I think I'm desperately in love with a beautiful man," Holmes returns, smoothing his hand down Watson's front. He regrets that Watson is about to pull away, but he could use some space too, to breathe, to let his mind wrap around all of this.

"Soup would be good." He grips Watson's arm to help pull himself up to a sitting position, and he hisses through his teeth as his leg twinges in pain. "And tea, I see. We'll have to share a cup," he says, a twist to his lips.