Watson closed his eyes. How he could possibly be so important to Holmes, who was so extraordinary, continued to escape him. "I must seem rather ungrateful," he said. "How many people would give everything to have their dead lovers returned to them? And here I am, protesting my good fortune."

He laid his hand over Holmes's on his cheek, holding his fingers there. "I'm trying to adjust," he promised. The truth was there were so many emotions roiling about in his heart right then that he couldn't quite make sense of them himself. He was trying.