"I'm sorry." Holmes waited. He knew exactly why Watson hadn't spoken for several minutes.
"I'm glad you're back," said Watson honestly, but with an edge. Sadness. Bitterness, perhaps. His eyes were on the fire, away from Holmes' face for the first time that day.
"But?" He was met with another silence. Watson watched the flames.
"I don't know, Holmes, I just need a little time to get used to you."
"I'm still the same man."
"Yes." He looked him up and down as if checking then stared Holmes right in the eye. He met the gaze, but looked a little tense leaning forward.
"How so?" Holmes' voice was soft now, a little above a whisper.
"I'm afraid of you." This was met with a look of surprise.
"How can you be? Watson, you know I-"
"-Too soon.-"
Again the voice was pushed down to a level acceptable in a library, or in the visitor's room of the Diogenes Club. "I don't want to hurt you, Watson."
"But I'm afraid you will."
"Irrationally!" Holmes drew nearer, putting out a hand, but seemingly forgetting to how to touch Watson without delivering an invisible blow.
Watson looked up, slowly, making Holmes wait. "It better be." Then he gave Holmes his first true smile.