Watson shot Holmes a look that was tolerantly patient. He was well aware he was being left to his own devices, for better or for worse, and doubtful about his abilities to reclaim the stick at all. The last thing he wanted was to end up brawling on the ground or, perish the thought, in the water after a wet and slimy tree branch. And yet, he couldn't very well abandon the game either, even if he was playing alone.

"Come on, Nell, drop it." When Watson moved towards her, Nell backed away, growling playfully though her tail wagged all the harder. "Nell!" There was a time for obedience and a time for play, and Nell had clearly decided this was the latter. She put down the stick, barked playfully, but the moment Watson drew nearer she grabbed her prize and pranced away again, circling around.

After a few repetitions of this, Watson looked over at Holmes in a vaguely pleading way, rather defeated. "Our dog," he announced, straightening, "has your knack for selective obedience."

With Watson no longer playing her game, Nell came a little closer, letting out an impatient, playfully inviting yap, her body tense with readiness to dash away again at a moment's notice.