Holmes and Watson are on their way back to Baker Street from a freshly wrapped-up case when they hear shrieking from around the corner, and naturally they charge around the corner to see what's happening. What's happening turns out to be a giant snake with a mirror for a face. They get the woman it has cornered out of the way, and Watson goes for his revolver, but before he can bring the snake down it gets its face over both of them and they're somewhere else.
They're both rather relieved to be on solid ground again.
"Two. Definitely two." He looks rather taken aback.
"Where we're from it is not customary for any but married couples to share a bed."
"We're both men. Surely you can tell we're both men, I haven't had trouble distinguishing the men from the women here!"
"Two beds in one room is alright if it won't lead people to . . . make bizzare assumptions."
"Or . . . or behaving scandalously."
"In a society with no possibility of illegitimacy, they would never have invented the concept."
"Never mind," says Watson, still looking distinctly uncomfortable.
They've had a long day, arguably two long days. They pass out for several hours.
"Good morning! If you will tell you us where obtained your food, our grasp of the vernacular should be sufficient to go find some of our own."