"Our cases, my boy, our cases." He turns his head and catches Watson's hand, so he can kiss the palm. "Especially if you wish to persist in writing them down. You must take some ownership if you become the author of our cases."

He brings Watson's hand closer to his mouth and flicks his tongue out to taste the pad of each finger. He's glad that Watson will keep his surgeon job, and he realizes that maybe it has something to do -- again -- with uniforms. Not that Watson would wear one of course, but Watson's sort of a Yarder, and there's something embarrassingly appealing about that.