"I was rather hoping you would," Watson confessed, still quite breathless. He put his hand to the back of Holmes's neck, cupping gently, and moved just enough to seek out Holmes's mouth with his own. The kiss was very loving, very tender, and also utterly exhausted. He could think of any number of things to say along the lines of whether they had successfully disturbed the neighbours, but he had absolutely energy to actually voice any of them, or to say anything else at all for the time being. He'd managed a whole eight syllables; he didn't think he had anything else left in him.

He put his arms around Holmes, and drew him very close.