His senses are threatening to overload, but he manages to wrest some control over them, to rein them in to more normal parameters. His breathing is erratic and labored, his lungs forgetting to breathe while his brain sorts out the sensory input, and then they remember all of a sudden and he takes a deep, shuddering breath.

"Oh God," he whispers, planting erratic kisses on Watson's shoulder and neck. The facade of his confidence is gone, but it is difficult to keep it up when he is attempting to keep so many other things at bay. He firms up his grip, keeping his pace slow still, though now it's more of a deliberate teasing action and less of a necessity.

Holmes plants a kiss beneath Watson's ear and takes his earlobe between his lips, nibbling at it gently -- a stroke of boldness for him.