Take care of those you call your own, and keep good company...

[lightconductor]

It had been a long, if not unrewarding day. Now, though, Watson was glad to relax in the comfort of familiar surroundings. There was something perfect about the cosiness of their rooms, the crackle and warmth of the fire, the scent of dinner and brandy and tobacco smoke. It was home, and it was far more perfect than he felt he had any right to claim.

He was stretched out on the sofa, comfortably full, with a novel propped up on his chest while he rested his head in Holmes's lap. The position was comfortable, intimate, and while in part he worried that it was... unmanly, unbecoming, unduly effeminate... it felt strangely safe, and he was grateful for the warmth of the thigh beneath his head.

Comments

[theyarder]

"I have to agree," he says with a small smile, and he puts his forehead to hers briefly. They approach the Forresters', and a wave of disappointment washes over him. Soon, he tells himself, soon he'll get to just go home with her and flop in front of the fire and then wake up with her the next morning. It's that he's looking forward to the most, more than anything.