By this point, Watson had the eggs boiling away, and was keeping a close eye on the timer. The coffee was poured and on the table; he was just setting the toast there, as well. "Shouldn't be long now," he said, brightly. He was feeling optimistic about this, about his newfound role as cook, and trying not to be overwhelmed about it.

Looking at Holmes, he was hard-pressed not to smile, not to appreciate a little just how handsome he was in his barely-groomed dishevelment.