"It's difficult to dislike," Watson agreed, his voice low and throaty with laughter. He had forgotten how he missed such things, such minor things that were so important when he had them. He wasn't sure how he had ever managed to live so long without being able to be touched every day, in intimate and insignificant ways, both.

He kissed the back of Holmes's neck, delicate and savouring. He let his fingers run in gentle circles over the skin of Holmes's arm. He was enjoying the moment, drinking it in through every pore, memorising every aspect of it.