"My darling, I would never," he returns, sounding shocked, and he smooths his hand over Watson's chest once he returns, instantly pressing closer to him.

"Certainly not when it comes to plans of this nature." He smirks as he leans in to kiss Watson, tasting brandy and cigarettes and Watson and it's all so very wonderful that for a brief, terrible moment it feels too wonderful to be real and he's seized with a fierce fear that he is, in fact, dreaming on a cot in Tibet.

He draws out of the kiss perhaps prematurely, reaching his hand up to touch Watson's cheek and trace the line of his jaw, the sudden and ridiculous, he realizes, fear abating.

"I do love you," he says, voice hushed.