He slides his arm easily around Watson and kisses his forehead; his fingertips lightly trace his initials against the skin of Watson's side. There's something immensely satisfying and amusing about the act, done mostly out of idleness and a desire to be touching Watson's skin; it's quietly and privately possessive.

"Oh, look at that," he murmurs, gesturing to the clock. "It's almost midnight. How the time does fly when one is sufficiently occupied." He hides a grin against Watson's hair and gives him another kiss. "We are about to usher in our first Christmas in our proper home as a married couple."

He pauses, musing on that, and he draws from his cigarette.

"I never envisioned my life as being so domestic," he murmurs, taking another drag. "So it's a good thing we've exerted ourselves and are only half dressed. If we did this decently I think I may have to question my identity."