Always. That was the best possible thing to hear, with things as they were, with the danger as it was. No matter what might happen, always they would belong to each other.

"I understand," Watson managed, trying to gather his thoughts enough for words. There was a definite intensity to his words, a desperation, and not all of it was lust. Some of it was, truthfully -- he was trying to thrust down onto Holmes's fingers -- but not all of it. "Always."

Always. Even when their lives weren't in such immediate danger, Watson sometimes had to wonder if Holmes, so brilliant and unique and talented, would not someday tire of Watson. It was difficult, though, to disbelieve such ferocity.