"Yes, you are a painter, are you not," Holmes said without a question mark. "I knew it from the moment I saw all the specks on your clothes." He gestured absently at the paint on Jeannot's coat.. "Never quite get it out, do you? Turpentine is best for oil," Holmes volunteered, not saying how he knew this.

Watson remained silent, in uncomfortable anticipation of Holmes's certain interrogation as to why he was so taciturn, but it did not come.

"Of course," Gabe answered, glad for any excuse to leave the two Victorians to their staring match. One could cut the repression with a knife, and he didn't like it. He led Jeannot into the closet, closing the door part way to afford both couples a bit of privacy.

It occurred to him that he hadn't made out in a closet since high school, but he pushed that thought to the top of his mind. "There's a few different kind of paints there," he said, and pointed. "And then there's a few cans of wall-paint on the floor, if you want those." He sighed, relieved to be free of the Victorianism he feared was contagious. "G-d," he murmured. "Just when I thought the two of them couldn't get more awkward."

Gabe looked at Jeannot curiously and squeezed his hand. "Whatever happened," he said, careful not to push it. "It's probably more the fault of their prudishness than of you." He pulled Jeannot closer and placed a kiss on his forehead. "Don't worry about it, really." He smiled. "They'll be sleeping together again by the time we leave."

Gabe sighed, lifting one hand to stroke the back of Jeannot's head, the other holding him in close. "Stop apologizing," he murmured. "You have nothing to be sorry about. What happened, happened, and, hell, if there actually is anything for you to be sorry about, I forgave you for it before it even took place."

As far as Gabe was concerned, the entire world around them had stopped existing the second he'd taken Jeannot into his arms. He pressed into Jeannot's kiss, finally moving away for a moment. "Love you," he said, not caring if they were overheard, before leaning back in to kiss his love tenderly.

Gabe laughed. "We should," he said, placing a kiss on Jeannot's cheek. "They can find a way to amuse themselves, even if it is being awkward and talking about Watson's wife." He kissed Jeannot right below the ear. "Being awkward is practically an art form for them, anyhow," he whispered, brushing his lips against Jeannot's skin.

Gabe sighed when Jeannot left his arms, reluctant to let him go, but didn't mind once he realized what he'd gone to do. "Isn't it, though?" he replied, smiling "The Great Detective having feelings!" He shook his head. "It makes a little more sense if you talk to him alone. He's trying to do the honorable thing and leave Watson to his wife, but, G-d knows, the honorable thing is hard. I doubt it'll stick for too long, especially since they're rooming together."

Gabe shrugged. "I suppose we could place bets, but I think that would be in slightly bad taste," he said, slightly puzzled by the guilty look on Jeannot's face. "What is it?" he asked, walking over to Jeannot and taking his hand.