Truly it's a rare thing when Holmes's mind ceases to function like... well, like Holmes's mind. Presently he's more instinct and urges than anything, and that's such an exotic feeling, one that he doesn't feel too guilty about having from time to time. He actually manages to think of nothing more than the union of their bodies and watching Watson's hand on his cock, and it's almost as liberating as an orgasm.

Speaking of, as he settles into the wild abandon of his thrusts, his orgasm starts to ready itself; thankfully he thinks he can stave it off, but the slow buildup is bound to be as sweet as the moment itself. He groans and forces his eyes to stay open, forces himself to watch Watson as he rides him through to their finish.