"Ah!" Watson curses. "Don't do that!"
"My dear fellow, I had thought we were past our moral qualms by this time." Holmes cradles his head in his palm, somewhat hurt, but amusement playing about his mouth.
"We are, I – ah! Stop that!"
"I – wait, hang on. Half a minute. You got sunburned, didn't you? With Mary? In Brighton?"
"Frankly, I should have thought you'd have realized that. Why else would I look like a boiled lobster?"
"I don't mind it," volunteers Holmes blandly, shrugging. "I'm only pointing it out."
"I'm bloody bright red," Watson gripes. "And it hurts…Are you laughing?"