Watson stared at Holmes for a long moment. He released his grip on his clothing, but didn't step away, either. Good God, after all this time, to be this close to Holmes. Even if he was furious with him, it was a heady drug to be near him once more.

"Men don't try to kill me anymore," he said, in a low voice. "Not since you died." And that was true, both blessing and curse. Whatever else life with Holmes had been, it had never been boring.

He drew back fractionally, giving Holmes a searching look. When he spoke, his voice was still hard, but some of the anger had drained out of it. "Why should he want to kill me for that?"