Watson gave Holmes a sheepish little smile over his shoulder as he crossed the room to the tray of soup. There were many things he thought of himself as; 'beautiful' was not one of them. To say he was flattered was an understatement.

"Somehow I think we can manage to share," he said, returning. He settled back into the bed, balancing the tray across his lap, and he offered Holmes some of the soup. "By the way," he said, as casually as he could manage, "Mrs. Hudson appears to have brought down my nightclothes so that I may stay down here. Do you think we ought to be concerned?"