Watson had meant his offer wholeheartedly, and certainly he had not been offering anything he would have found unpleasant -- to the contrary, in fact. But he could hardly have argued with a tone like that, and indeed, something in his military training made him respond to orders like that with an eagerness that nearly made him ache, the moreso when they came from Holmes, and the moreso when they were such good orders.

He didn't even mind the remark about his moustache; it was certainly true enough.

He rose, although he was admittedly reluctant to part for any length of time; he contented himself with first dipping his head to kiss Holmes hotly, in one small act of rebellion before he stood, his posture distinctly military, his expression eager and aching and hungry.

"Where shall you have me, then?"