Holmes's hand against his shoulder brought on an uncomfortable thought. What would he think of Watson's scars? Would he find them ugly, distasteful? Watson certainly did himself.

Later. He would think of that later, when it became necessary. Truthfully, he could hardly think now, and the fingers along the side of his neck felt very good indeed. He settled himself close against Holmes, comforted by the warmth and the feel of his body, and risked leaning in to explore Holmes's jawline with his mouth a little, something he had enjoyed with one or two young ladies of his past acquaintance. He was overwhelmingly curious, more than anything, and he wanted to know what the difference would be if he did this thing with a man, what Holmes's reaction to it would be. He had always rather guiltlessly enjoyed carnal pleasures of many sorts. What he found terrible, more than anything else, was that he had been denying himself an entire world of experience for several weak reasons but very possibly no adequate one. He was beginning to think of this as exploring, rather than giving in.

"I regret that I never let myself have the opportunity to share," Watson said, smiling crookedly. "But by God, Holmes. If I am going to do this... I am glad it's you."