“Say it again,” Natasha requested, smiling down at him like the sun.
Sherlock felt the warmth of it through every limb, but the prospect of teasing her was far too tempting to pass up. “Say what again? I say a lot of things, you’re going to have to be more specific.”
Her eyes lit up for him. “You know, there are exactly twenty-three different ways in which I could physically coerce you—”
“Welcome home, Mrs. Holmes,” he interrupted, giving her what she wanted with a smile of his own.
She smiled again and leaned in, pressing next words against his lips. “I missed you, Mr. Holmes.”
Sherlock Holmes and Natasha Romanov, Coming Home