mustbethetruth | (no subject)

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Continued from here.

He smirks faintly, adjusting to being touched once again, but so far nothing seems to be driving him toward sensory overload. It helps that Watson can amuse him, even now, even when Holmes's heart is racing just a little at entering into something like this now, so suddenly.

"I wasn't quite asking permission," he admits a little sheepishly, his fingers seeking out Watson's ribs and mapping them carefully. Their positions have slid from when they were sitting properly, and Holmes is slightly uncomfortable from the angle; besides, the urge to situate Watson under him is quite strong, suddenly. He finishes their transition from sitting to laying down, nudging Watson down and positioning himself over him.

It's rather enjoyable to have Watson solid and secure and half naked beneath him, the latter not nearly as important as the first few.

"It seems so long ago that we last did something like this," he observes, and he ducks his head to kiss Watson's collarbone.

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He'd just been starting to think along these lines, and he glances around for one, hoping to find one suitable. Luckily there's a good-sized stick, one that looks like it would hold up in Nell's jaw to get sufficient playing time in. He picks it up and hands it to Watson, since Watson asked for it, and calls Nell over to them.

Happy to hear her name, her ears perk up first, and then she runs over to them, happily wagging her tail behind them. They have been cooped up for too long, clearly, and Nell is rather happy to have both of her people out with her.

"I'm sure she would be happy for a chance of picnics too," he says, smirking faintly.

"We'll have to have one at some point, then," Watson said. "Don't let me forgot that."

Hefting the stick high to get Nell's attention, he tossed it out into the water. Nell sprang after it, tail wagging. She pulled up short at the edge of the water, for a moment hesitating over just how wet she was willing to get. She glanced back at them, looking for some sort of approval which she evidently found, because she turned and bounded into the water. Apparently unbothered by the salt and the cold, she soon returned to the shore with the stick in her mouth.

Watson laughed. "You're a brave girl to go swimming in that," he said. "Come here, Nell. Give me the stick."

Nell wagged her tail, and sat, but didn't release her grip on her prize, either.

He chuckles, both at Nell braving the water and guarding her stick so stubbornly. This is obviously part of the game here, and Holmes crosses his arms over his chest, looking between Watson and Nell.

"I don't think she's feeling very generous. That looks to be quite the challenge." The smile he gives Watson makes it clear that it's his challenge, not Holmes's.

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.

It's pretty endearing watching Watson helplessly attempt to coax the stick away from Nell, who clearly isn't having any of it, and who Holmes rather admires for her dedication to watching Watson plead so very insistently. He's almost chuckling when Watson finally turns to him, and he's certainly grinning widely, very proud of Nell.

"In that case, you ought to know that there's nothing to do but give up the chase." While Watson had been attempting to get the stick away from Nell, Holmes had spotted another one nearby; he picks it up and offers it to her, holding it up and making to throw it once or twice.

Nell at first is unsure. It has the smell of a trap, but it's also another stick, and it's about to escape, and if it does she had better be ready for it. Holmes watches her body start to tense, and by the time he finally throws it, Nell is ready to drop the hold on the current stick and run for the second. Holmes stoops to pick up the first and holds it out to Watson, smiling triumphantly.

Watson glared for a moment, at a loss for words and feeling utterly, utterly defeated, outwitted by Holmes and Nell alike. Giving a resigned sigh and a shake of his head, he snatched back the stick. "Thank you," he said, sardonically. "I'm glad to have your support and guidance when it comes to outwitting the dog."

Nell had come circling back by this point, second stick held firmly in her jaws, but seeing her original prize once again in Watson's posession, she dropped her stick -- at a safe distance from easy snatching -- and rushed forward with a bark, bowing playfully and panting in an attempt to entice Watson to throw that one for her again, too. Laughing, Watson reached to take Holmes firmly by the lapels and pull him close for a hard, firm kiss. Left out and ignored, Nell barked impatiently and jumped up, trying to be included.

He'd almost been as tense as Nell for Watson to throw the stick again (isn't Holmes the cat in this relationship?) and he's just as surprised, though much less indignant, when he suddenly finds himself being kissed rather hard. Watson hadn't seemed in the kissing mood, but Holmes isn't about to complain, and he wraps an arm around Watson's waist, though Nell's insistence that she receive some attention unfortunately brings things to a premature end.

He draws away, still smiling. This walk was a good idea; is still a good idea, and he doesn't want to go back home, not for a while yet. He takes the stick out of Watson's hand and gives it a good throw.

"There you are, stop whining," he says and wraps his arm back around Watson's waist. "And my dear Watson, you have my support and guidance when it comes to outwitting everything."

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