Watson slid close, his hands against Holmes's abdomen, and buried his face into the curve of his shoulder. He smiled against his skin, feeling easy and comfortable. "That," he murmured, "is a positively diabolical plan. I like it."

As much as he liked the idea, standing here in an embrace was just not going to be possible, not for very long. "The bedroom?" he said, half a question, have a suggestion. They were still wet, still dripping, but pausing to dry themselves off seemed... bothersome.