"Oh, Christ, yes."

Watson clutched at Holmes, pulled him down on top of him, kissing him rather desperately. kissing him like he was learning Holmes from the inside out. Holmes had it exactly right: there was nowhere outside of each other, and nothing else mattered in this moment. They were together, and they were in love, and they belonged to each other. That was all that mattered.

And somehow, the 'shame' of being sodded had lost its potency over time, and there was only the love left.