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 isn't quite sure he'd define skinnydipping as unspeakable and immoral... Perhaps immoral, but not unspeakable. That, however, is thankfully not what Watson is asking, and so Holmes can safely mislead him. Maybe Watson will be so delighted by that that he'll kiss Holmes again. He doubts it.

"Yes, and yes," he returns, rather unashamedly watching Watson. "I'm afraid you're quite disappointing me. This is your last chance."

He slips his trousers and small clothes off and folds them up, setting them atop his shirt. It is a little odd to be standing naked on a beach, not to mention a bit chilly.

"And please guess quickly," he adds, impatient.

"Well, I do appear to be running out of time, don't I?" Watson cast a glance over Holmes's sudden nakedness, finding he rather appreciated how out of place it was just then and there, and that there was something familiarly intimate about the sight.

He hadn't any idea of what Holmes might be thinking, what might be passing through his mind, why they might be standing here in the nude in so unwise a place. He wanted to guess, so very badly, but was at a loss.

"I'm sorry," Watson confessed at last. "I cannot guess, I have no idea. I concede defeat; you have outwitted me. What is it that you plan?"

"We're going for a swim," he announces, pleased Watson couldn't guess. This is fun; he'd let himself idle for too long, spent too much time with his books. Maybe while he's here, if he can't exercise his mind with cases, he can explore his other interests, his old interests from when he was first living in London. Maybe someone else here would be interested in boxing with him.

"Hurry up and finish undressing before someone sees us," he adds, chiding, as if it wasn't his idea in the first place. That feeling of stagnancy is gone; it's refreshing; it's almost invigorating.

Watson stared for a moment before dropping his own trousers. "A swim," he repeated. "You really are mad." This was not swimming weather. It was far too cold for a quick dip, and they would be sent heading back home soaking wet and freezing.

Still, he quickly stripped down to nothing, and shivering a little, stood up straight to look Holmes in the eye. "Very well," he said. "A quick dip. I'll join you in this insanity." Not that there was anything unusual about that state of affairs; he usually joined Holmes in whatever mad schemes were current.

Taking a breath to prepare himself, Watson extended his hand for Holmes to take before they plunged in. "Promise me a warm bath when we return home."

He takes Watson's hand, knowing full well they are doing something very stupid, but he can't quite be bothered to care right now. It will be stupid and different and risky and interesting, and it will be infinitely better than not doing it. Unless they become sick, in which case he'll just have to blame Watson.

"That is easily promised," he says, squeezing Watson's hand and smiling a little too much for someone standing in the cold about to get even colder.

There's no way around this; going in slowly will only result in backing down from the challenge, so he starts them at a run into the water, which is shockingly, numbingly cold, but he can only start laughing at the ridiculousness of this.

When they hit the water, Watson gave a sharp gasp of shock at the rush of cold-that-was-nearly-pain, but it quickly turned into laughter alongside Holmes's. This was... glorious, like being a schoolboy again and slipping down to the creek to swim in the nude, without any cares. Nell was on the shoreline, barking at them, baffled but excited by their sudden plunge into the water, and was making a few hesitant forays into the freezing water after them.

Watson pulled himself close momentarily, treasuring what of Holmes's body heat he could manage to feel through the blinding cold. "It doesn't count unless you go all in," he declared, rather breathlessly, and stepped away to dunk himself in under the water. He could say, at least, that he was first.

Holmes is not about to be outdone; he isn't thrilled at plunging his head underwater, but Watson is right, and he follows after him. He stays under just enough to be respectable and then resurfaces, flipping his hair back out of his eyes and running his hand over it.

It is cold. But it is also exhilarating, and he hasn't quite stopped laughing, something which will soon be aided by his teeth chattering, no doubt.

"Are you sure you're glad I'm feeling better?" he teases.

Watson all but flung himself at Holmes in a splash of water, wrapping his arms around him and kissing him firmly. "I am," he laughed, though he could feel his muscles tensing up from the cold and speech was becoming an effort. "I am as insane as you are, it seems."

He kissed him again, aware of the coldness of his own lips, and of how he was beginning to shiver. "But I think the insanity only goes so far. Shall we get out before we meet an untimely end?"

Holmes is shivering too, and he tightens his hold on Watson momentarily to try and brace himself, to keep himself from shaking, but it isn't entirely successful. The insanity has indeed served its purpose, and he starts moving them toward shore.

"We most certainly should, before we are found like this and we leave people to wonder." He grins through the shivering and manages a chuckle. "We wouldn't want to destroy their lofty ideas about us."

Once out of the water, he disentangles himself from Watson to try and pull his small clothes on quickly; it is unfortunate he didn't wear a jacket, as at least it may have served as a towel.

Shivering violently, Watson made his way up onto the beach. As wet as he was, he wriggled into his clothing with difficulty, amazed he was not freezing to place as he was. Nell came around, circling both of them with the occassional lick in their direction, glad to see them out of the water again.

"A very hot bath," Watson said decisively. "And a bit of brandy. Bloody hell, the things I let you talk me into." His voice was fond through his chattering teeth, fond and appreciative, despite how cold he was now.

He finishes dressing successfully, which is worthy of celebration considering how badly he's shivering. Nell's warm tongue feels rather nice against him, and he finds himself missing her whenever she passes him by. He quickly rejoins Watson's side and wraps his arm around him, huddling close together.

"Hot bath and brandy," he agrees, clenching his jaw for some relief to his teeth for a moment. "Is this how it goes then? I recommend the insane ideas, and you the sensible ones?"

"It seems to work that way," Watson remarked, hugging himself close against Holmes. He ran his hand over his face, distressed to find that his moustache was full of salt water. Frigid salt water, at that. "Someone has to have sensible ideas to counteract the insane ones."

He laughed, rather shakily through chattering teeth. He was finding something rather nice about the feel of Holme's wet skin through his shirt, and thought there might be something to another swim, a longer one, when the weather was warmer.

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