His breathing still slowing, Watson pulled Holmes close against him. He loved these moments, these quiet and heavy intimate moments in the afterglow of sex. Sex was wonderful -- he had a quite unseemly interest in it, admittedly -- and sex with Holmes was extraordinary, but there was something that he cherished deeply about these sweaty, sticky moments afterwards.

"You're all right?" he murmured, half a question and half a reassurance. It was difficult to know; for a moment Holmes had seemed about to break apart. If Watson could say it, could mean it enough, then perhaps he could make it true.