There were a dozen ways and more to feel pleasure. The warm satisfaction of a job well done, the enjoyment of a good meal, all the way up to the hot, desperate pleasures of the bedroom. Before coming to Baker Street, I had found pleasure in such simple things as my work or a nice cup of tea and some cheese crumpets. Since my introduction to my unique flatmate, I have been given the opportunity to sample the pleasures that come from bringing justice to those desperately in need that few others could have helped, in stopping criminals from ruining the lives of others, even in bringing mercy to those who have done wrong but have repented. It is only recently that I have found my greatest pleasure, one that grows with every day. Being by his side, one of the few he trusts, is an honor. But better than the days spent visibly by his side are the nights we spend together. Fast and hot and desperate after nearly losing him to a criminal’s bullet, or slow and sweet as we celebrated victory. But the most precious pleasure to me is none of these. It is after the celebration, after the glory, when we are wrapped up in each other’s arms. When we can turn to each other for comfort and trust the other to understand. Wrapped up here, snug together in our bed, with him asleep on my chest, I know there is nothing in this world more precious to me than this moment. These little pleasures are truly my greatest treasure, and I will fight more fiercely than I have ever done before to keep him safe and stay by his side.