"'Till Nature, as she wrought thee, fell a-doting, and by addition me of thee defeated, by adding one thing to my purpose nothing,'" he quotes, smiling to himself. He skims his fingertips up Watson's thigh, definitely a suggestive gesture even if Holmes isn't feeling very able to follow up with the suggestion. "Maybe Shakespeare didn't know what to do with Nature's addition to his fair youth, but I have a good idea what to do with yours."

He catches Watson in a soft, slow kiss, tender and loving and very comfortable. Probably more comfortable than he ought to be, curled up on their sitting room floor, but it's difficult when Watson is so warm and they're pressed so close together.