Watson returned back to Baker Street the very next day. Mrs. Hudson was surprised to see him visit two times in a row. She was so used to only seeing him once a week, maybe even less often than that at times.

The man smiled at her in order to reassure her that he wasn't here because of any certain emergency. This eased her a bit. She was honestly glad to see him and she knew that Holmes would be too.

Why Watson was visiting, he didn't know. But somewhere in the back of his mind he had a feeling it had something to do with the doll.

He made his way to where the dining table was, and sure enough Holmes was seated there with a plate of food and his attention focused solely on the doll.

The doll was placed on the table as well. Holmes was making its arms wave. The age-confused detective pretended that he wasn't aware of Watson's presence until he had the doll wave at him.

Then he looked to see who the doll was waving to, and he feigned surprise.

"Ah! Doctor. So good of you to join us," he gestured for the real Watson to take a seat.

Watson hesitated a little before sitting down across from Holmes. He looked at the doll disapprovingly.

"You're a little too old to be playing with dolls, don't you think Holmes?"

And, of course, Holmes responded to Watson's observation that he was acting childish by acting childish. Just like last night, Holmes spoke for it.

"How dare you! I am no doll! I'll have you know, sir, that I am a war veteran, a well esteemed medical man, and best of all, friends with the great Sherlock Holmes! The title 'doll' is degrading for someone of my standards."

Oh God, Watson thought tiredly, I hope Mrs. Hudson doesn't know about this.

Holmes looked at the doll in shock. Well, pretend shock at least.

"Calm down my friend. Dr. Watson didn't mean any offense, I'm sure. Did you Dr. Watson?" Holmes looked at the real Watson.

Was he really talking to the doll? Watson couldn't wrap his head around it. He sat there, bewildered to see his friend acting so...odd.

Odder than usual. And that was pretty odd.

Suddenly, Mrs. Hudson came into the room. She looked at Holmes and the doll with a disheveled expression, before offering Watson a friendly smile.

"Would you like me to fetch you something to eat, Dr. Watson?"

Before the real Watson could answer, Holmes held up the doll and spoke in his childish voice.

"No thank you. I already had buttered scones for breakfast. However, a cup of tea sounds lovely right now."

Watson and Mrs. Hudson were left speechless. The poor landlady gave Watson a worried glance, silently asking him to get Holmes to stop this mad behavior.

He nodded to her, hoping that she would understand that he planned to.

When Mrs. Hudson left, Watson took a deep breath. Holmes was still playing with the doll, completely ignoring him. Watson ignored the agitation he was feeling because of that.

He chose his next words carefully.

"Now listen Holmes. I'm sure that you have your reasons for wanting such a...an interesting reward for your services to Mr. Shred," he paused for a second,

"And I must admit as handsome as that doll is," he choked out a laugh, "You need to throw it out. You're upsetting Mrs. Hudson."

Watson studied Holmes for a second, curious as to what his response would be. Holmes didn't even give the doctor the satisfaction of having the gaze returned.

He just patted the doll's head affectionately. Too affectionately.

Watson felt his face flush in anger. He shot out of his seat.

"Now see here! Having a doll like that is not acceptable! Don't you think I have the right to at least grant you permission before you had a doll made like that?"

"Why ever would I need your permission?" Holmes asked, finally looking at him.

"Because the doll is me, Holmes. And it is really disturbing to me that you would do something like this. I can't just let you walk around, playing with a doll that has my face!

How would you like it if I had a doll that looked like you! And decided to play with it as if I were three years old, or pretend like it was talking to other people, or...or..."

"Read books to it?" Holmes offered, his eyes full of mischief.

"Yes! That too!"

"Hug it?"

Watson was slightly caught off guard by the last example. But he recovered and nodded just the same with a steely glare.

"That as well. Yes!"

Holmes smirked.

"Sleep with it?"

This time Watson was struck silent. His jaw hung loose as his mind went back to what Holmes had just said.

He slept with it? Well true that some children have been known to sleep with their toys, and Holmes was definitely acting like one of those children, but to sleep with it?

Watson closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, bracing himself to ask the dreaded question. He opened his eyes hesitantly.

"Tell me," he began, "You don't really sleep with that doll. Do you?"

Holmes merely flashed a guilty smile his way. Watson was unprepared when the dark haired detective pressed his lips on top of the doll's head.

The doctor felt his cheeks growing hot. He looked away so that Holmes wouldn't be able to see his flushed face.

He knew that Holmes was just trying to get on his nerves. But why would he go so far as to kiss the doll?

He was really, really grateful that Mrs. Hudson didn't see that.

That's it. Watson turned his head back to Holmes with a determined and angry look. He held out his hand.

"Give me the doll," he ordered.

This only made Holmes hold his toy tighter. His eyes were big, almost pleading and his lips formed a tight pout.

"Am I to understand that you would take my only means of happiness away?"

And then Holmes' expression did a dramatic change, from pitiful to smug.

"Just because you're...jealous?"

Watson didn't know how to react. He just stood there dumbfounded.

It was at that moment that Mrs. Hudson came in with the tea. Neither men payed any attention to her but it didn't bother her.

She set the tea down on the table, shook her head sadly and silently left the room.

"I'm not jealous," Watson snarled through gritted teeth.

Holmes knew he had struck a nerve. He looked back at the doll.

"Of course you're not. And as to your previous question, I'd think that I would rather enjoy it."

Confusion swept Watson's anger away.

"Excuse me?"

He honestly didn't know what the detective was talking about. Holmes' stroke the Watson doll's cheek.

"Your question was how I would like it if you had a doll of me which you showed affection to. My answer is that I firmly believe I would enjoy the idea,"

his gaze drifted in deep thought, "Yes. I enjoy the thought of you seeking comfort from one of your all-too-frequent nightmares about the war.

Holding onto a little version of me and feeling safe by doing so. Kissing it softly. Once on the head. Then to the lips. Then you pretend that the doll's lips are my own-"

"Okay," Watson decided to cut him off there, "What have you been drinking and is this brain damage of yours permanent?"

The good doctor was satisfied just a little to see the cross look on Holmes' face. He pouted at his friend for the interruption.

Watson refused to let himself think that was...almost...kind of...cute. And he was sure as hell not letting Holmes joke around like that.

He had grown used to the man pretending like he wanted to be lovers, especially after his marriage.

But seriously, that had to stop. If Holmes kept acting like he had something besides platonic love for his friend then people might begin to suspect he was serious.

And Watson for one was not going to bail him out if he got thrown into jail because of it.

Watson took a sip of his tea and the two men fell in silence. It was awkward with Holmes sulking the entire time.

Watson didn't think the interruption would have that affect on him.

When he was finished with his tea, Watson stood up, preparing to leave. Holmes looked up with big round eyes.

Just seeing him like that while he was holding onto the doll reminded Watson of a helpless child. He was almost reduced to staying.

But he gathered his nerve.

"I'll return tomorrow morning Holmes. If it won't be a bother."

"Oh by all means," Holmes lowered his head and went back to sulking.

Watson prevented himself from sighing.

"And I hope that by the time I arrive you will have gotten rid of that toy of yours."

"Don't count on it," Holmes muttered so darkly it had taken Watson aback.

Watson felt his anger rising again.

"And why is that?" he demanded with his eyes narrowing.

Holmes challenge Watson's heated glare with his own. He stood up as well.

The Watson doll was once again patted by Holmes' hand.

"Because. I have made a promise to myself, Watson. A vow, if you will. And I am determine to keep it."

This caused Watson to arch an eyebrow.

"And what is that vow, Holmes?"

The detective's look softened slightly.

"To have at least one John Watson by my side for all time."