Watson shivered, again unable to keep from clutching at Holmes by his shirt, possibly out of fear he might at this point suddenly leave, as unlikely as that seemed. He had the fleeting thought that if he was going to be so ambitious as to get into bed -- or the sofa, whichever -- with a noted genius, then he had to expect him to be highly competent in this area, as well. How had he never noticed that Holmes had such wanton tendencies as this?

He turned his head to kiss him again, drawing him close by the front of his shirt, and then shifted to press his mouth to Holmes's neck from underneath, kissing and tasting the skin there almost hungrily.