[ Sherlock Holmes has many, many fields of expertise. Chemistry, botany, forensic sciences, the chemical effect of cocaine when in combination with several other types of medicinal herbs. Affection is not one of those fields. He's been scolded before. There's a half of him that wants the hug to linger, and it's been long, it's been so long since such a familiar sight, since stodgy posture and that telltale mustache, and were Holmes more attune to that affectionate side, he'd have certainly reveled in that moment a bit longer. ]
[ As something is most certainly and definitely terribly wrong here, with them. ]
[ But he won't allow it. ]
Gladstone! [ He chooses to focus on the dog instead of the matters he probably should be, flocking to the corner in question and propping his elbows up on his knees as he crouches in front of the poor thing. Shuttled into space. He'd had much worse. For a moment, Holmes considers the synthetic blood substitute he'd been experimenting with, but he supposed it would be pointless to try on a dog. He thinks instead to his attempted methamphetamine synthesis, which would be much easier to test on an animal. ]
[ There's probably a very familiar thoughtful expression in his eyes as Holmes skritches behind the ears of the dog. Watson should stop him. Or he should have, if Holmes hadn't chosen then to speak up of all moments, his back turned to the other man, his attention on a damned dog. ]
You know my methods.
[ It's all he offers, maybe some sort of delve into the topic he wants to avoid, maybe even almost some sort of quiet apology. But it's a start. ]
no subject
[ As something is most certainly and definitely terribly wrong here, with them. ]
[ But he won't allow it. ]
Gladstone! [ He chooses to focus on the dog instead of the matters he probably should be, flocking to the corner in question and propping his elbows up on his knees as he crouches in front of the poor thing. Shuttled into space. He'd had much worse. For a moment, Holmes considers the synthetic blood substitute he'd been experimenting with, but he supposed it would be pointless to try on a dog. He thinks instead to his attempted methamphetamine synthesis, which would be much easier to test on an animal. ]
[ There's probably a very familiar thoughtful expression in his eyes as Holmes skritches behind the ears of the dog. Watson should stop him. Or he should have, if Holmes hadn't chosen then to speak up of all moments, his back turned to the other man, his attention on a damned dog. ]
You know my methods.
[ It's all he offers, maybe some sort of delve into the topic he wants to avoid, maybe even almost some sort of quiet apology. But it's a start. ]