"Perhaps," Watson said, smiling. He smoothed his free hand over Holmes's arm, briefly squeezing his hand, before letting go and dropping that arm to his side again. He had neglected to bring his stick today -- perhaps that would prove unwise, but for now, he didn't mind forgetting it. "I suppose we may find some spades to dig it up with in the village, if necessary? I'd prefer not to use my bare hands."

There was no point in planning that, but it seemed right to do so, the sort of trivial plotting that made no real difference but seemed important to Watson.

"I suppose these pirates I am writing about must find some buried treasure at some point." Watson gave a thoughtful hum. He thought he could find some potential in that. "Am I writing another romance? I am taking suggestions now."