The urge to catch Holmes up and kiss him had been very strong, for a moment. The mind might rage, the heart might ache, but the body remembered all the familiar smells and affectionate touches and all the meaning behind them. Watson turned away as he stood, feeling awkward and uncertain. "I think I wouldn't mind being able to help take this man down," he said, far more decisively than he was able to say many things at that moment.

"But very well, give me the rest of this costume." Watson moved to his desk, drew his revolver out of the drawer. There was no chance he would be going anywhere without this tonight.