"Oh, aren't you considerate and charitable," Watson laughed, rather throatily. "Fortunately for you, I would hardly consider it a chore." He leaned his head back onto Holmes's chest, briefly managing to remember his cigarette under the attention of kisses on his neck.

He had been worried, vaguely, that their... their fight, their disagreement, their... whatever it had been... had been some sort of bad omen about their life together in this new house. Watson wasn't even sure he believed in omens. That fear was long gone, now.