"Tell them you have a splitting headache," he counters, as casually and lazily as he's said everything else this morning, but it saddens him that Watson is still angry. There isn't much that he could do for that, can he? Watson loves him enough to force them to stay in bed, which is something that Holmes can live with. He just has to start getting used to living with the thought that Watson might never forgive him.

He turns over, not content for the moment to be in a position where he can't touch or kiss Watson as much as he'd like. He retangles their legs, pulling one of Watson's in between his, and he skims his fingertips down his side before he lets his arm drape over him and hold him close.

"Or tell them I slipped and hit my head in the bath." He grazes his lips against Watson's in a tease of a kiss. He doesn't even need to tell his fingers to do it; they start counting Watson's ribs of their own accord.