Watson duly sat down and began cleaning his face, but he occasionally glanced around to wonder what the object of Holmes's search might be and what the earlier traces that Holmes had scraped into an envelope had been. Watson was also distracted by Holmes's appearance and the recent memory of their ferocious kisses--kisses which seemed so incongruent with Holmes's instant return to methodical detection.

Watson frowned to himself, quite unsettled. Earlier, Watson had believed that Holmes's romance of Milverton's housemaid Agatha had been conducted with a kind of gentlemanly, if rapid, courtship, by artfully plying that charm that Holmes employed when dealing with the fair sex. Now Watson began to wonder to what levels Holmes might have been willing to stoop, if he could behave this way to-night, just for the sake of this case. Those kisses felt ... incredibly authentic, and it seemed unnatural that an impersonal temperament like Holmes's could so easily counterfeit passion in such sudden bursts.

Watson turned about in his chair and ventured quietly, "Holmes?"

"Shh," Holmes responded, shaking his head. "I must keep listening for the door--"

At that moment, they heard approaching footsteps in the corridor outside.

"Wats--Jack." Holmes put away his pocket lens and gestured for Watson to come to the bed with him. They scrambled onto the mattress clumsily and were embracing when someone sharply knocked on their door.

"Lord Severton?" came a familiar but now authoritative voice. Without further ceremony, the door opened to reveal the colonel and a number of the men from the circle in the parlour. The colonel stepped inside while the rest of the crowd stood by the door.

Holmes blinked and protested with exaggerated irritation. "Might we have some privacy, please?"

"No, I'm afraid not," the colonel answered firmly. "I apologise, but you cannot have this room, and you'll have to find another. It--"

"Why?" Holmes pouted, sitting up.

The colonel looked patient and continued, "It is reserved solely for the use of the owner of this house--our host."

"Reserved? Then why wasn't the room locked?"

"A slight mishap. Our host neglected to lock it after him on his last use, and we were not even aware of the oversight until your neighbours dropped by to tell us." He shrugged. "Most of us are so accustomed now to simply passing by this room automatically, that none of us checked the lock nor thought to mention the matter to you. You have our sincere apologies, milord," he nodded to Watson, then Holmes, "sir."

At that point, the group outside stepped back from the doorway, and the colonel gestured to the clear path. "Now, if you would kindly exit, sirs..."

Holmes remained unsatisfied and petulant. "Must we?" he clung to Watson.

The colonel frowned and looked considerably less patient; the waiting assembly stepped forward again.

Having been silent and apprehensive during all this, Watson now cleared his throat and pulled Holmes to his feet. "We must." He urged an ostensibly unwilling Holmes to the door, placing his arm around Holmes's waist.

They exited quietly and saw a few members of the crowd enter after them to straighten up the disarray in the room. The rest of the group, however, insisted on accompanying H&W out the corridor and down a flight of stairs. The colonel asked evenly, "Do you need any assistance finding another room?"

"No, we fully comprehend the process of knocking on doors," Holmes snapped. He grimaced sourly when Watson pressed a restraining hand onto his arm.

The colonel said nothing, and the entourage still would not depart, so H&W began trying doors down the corridor. Holmes temperamentally rejected the first, second, and even third empty rooms that they found, protesting that they were too ugly, small, or oppressive.

At last they entered a final room, and Holmes sighed grudgingly, "This is the best we can do." They locked the door behind them.

Watson exhaled quietly in relief, looking at Holmes and waiting for some indication of what they would do now. He did not know how long the party of men might remain outside their door, and he hoped that Holmes could detect any sound of their movements with his sharp senses.

His arms crossed, Holmes merely stood wearing an agitated frown for a moment, then turned and proceeded to the bed. "Jack!" he spoke with the impatient tone of his character again, throwing himself onto the bed furiously.

Watson followed Holmes and sat beside him, touching Holmes softly to soothe what appeared to be a tantrum.

Holmes abruptly turned and lay his head onto Watson's shoulder. "Jack darling," he pouted with both hurt and anger, "I have never been so humiliated! You'd think that they supposed us to be thieves or intentional trespassers who would skulk back at a moment's notice."

Blinking, Watson adapted to this new dimension of vulnerability in Holmes's character. "I'm--I'm sorry, my dear," he gently comforted, brushing Holmes's back. He waited for some hint that it would be safe to speak normally again, for Watson did not know how much conversation he could sustain like this.

Holmes sat closer, sighing and displaying none of his former easy insolence. He did however, seem to purr again at Watson's caress, and he subtly prompted Watson to embrace him fully. Holmes closed his eyes and clung tightly as if he wanted to be treated like a pet.

Watson complied, murmuring soothing words and stroking Holmes as one would a chastened pet or child. Watson considered that this new state might indeed be considered the logical converse to the petulant-brat personality of Holmes's role to-night. Leave it to Holmes to think things through so thoroughly.

"Jack," Holmes murmured, blinking his eyelashes against Watson's throat like a tame kitten tickling its owner with its whiskers.

Watson shifted somewhat and gazed down at Holmes's face, still a bit distracted by its appearance. "My dear," he repeated, tracing the jawline with his fingers.

Holmes stirred, meeting Watson's eyes again. "Jack," he frowned, with a trace of a pout returning, "I'm tired. And my head--!" he winced. "Did I have too much wine to-night?"

Watson caressed him sympathetically and kissed his cheek.

"And the smoke!" Holmes continued. After a pause, he smirked and laughed lightly, "I have never been in so much tobacco! It's a London fog."

"Indeed." Watson nodded and smiled, restraining himself from mentioning the occasional times that Holmes smoked their own rooms into such a fog; they were only playing characters, after all.

Holmes turned and smiled into Watson's shoulder, as if he knew Watson's thoughts. "What time is it?" he finally managed to clear his face.

Watson checked his watch. "A quarter after two," he reported, then suddenly felt Holmes's fingers play idly with his watch-chain. Watson glanced at Holmes's sleepy-eyed look, then added, "Quite late."

"Quite," Holmes agreed, sliding his fingers now onto Watson's hand. He shook his head, "I was having an enjoyable time here--until we were interrupted. Do you think we could go home now?"

"Now?" Watson blinked with surprise.

Holmes nodded. "Do you think they will let us go without suspicion, or search us?"

"I--that would be most ungentlemanly." It was all that Watson could honestly think to say.

Holmes sighed plaintively, "I would feel better at home." Then he shifted, looking into Watson's eyes again. "And we could--" Holmes kissed him, "make love."

Watson said nothing and sat allowing Holmes to kiss him amorously for several minutes. Watson kissed back and embraced Holmes tightly in return, but he wondered how long this could go on.

Holmes blinked against Watson's cheek and whispered, "I love you."

Watson was saved the indecision about having to respond in kind--for it was a very intimate thing to say--by another kiss.

"Please take me home."

Taking Holmes's words for sincerity, Watson rose from the bed and drew Holmes to the door with him. Watson cautiously opened it and peered outside, finding no one in the corridor, other than the usual loiterers. He then took Holmes on his arm again and they quietly exited, returning downstairs and asking for their hats and overcoats from the butler.

Their carriage was also sent for, and when it soon drew up to the front of the house, they departed the establishment without incident, counting themselves quite fortunate.