Watson watched as Mrs. Hudson entered the living room, vaguely wondering why the old lady seemed inexplicably nervous this fair morning.

"Mr. Holmes isn't up yet," she said as she placed the tray on the table; for a moment he fancied he saw her blush, which didn't make any sense to him.

Unless she'd walked on her tenant while he was getting dressed, Dr. Watson decided with a smirk.

He was helping himself to a second cup of tea when his friend finally burst into the room.

"Morning, Watson," Holmes greeted him as he slumped into his chair. He seemed to be in a decidedly cheerful mood, and that was always a relief for his longtime companion.

They ate breakfast in silence, since Holmes was apparently busy with some private thought of his own; Watson couldn't help but notice the glint in his eyes, something which usually indicated a breakthrough in the case at hand.

However, he almost choke on his tea when Jane – he simply couldn't bring himself to call her Mrs. Holmes – walked in and dropped a kiss on her husband's brow.

An awkward look settled on Holmes' features, and Watson promptly buried his head behind his newspaper.