Watson had just enough presence of mind to to cup his hand over Holmes's head. He was breathing hard, his mind scattered, and his thoughts all but non-existent. He was aware of nothing but the satiation of his body and the warm, dense presence of Holmes beside him.

He began stroking Holmes's hair, and when he spoke, it was distracted and almost meaningless. "You are so beautiful," he whispered, hoarse. He didn't know what he was saying. "You are so beautiful."