I watched through the window as snowflakes glittered in the blue evening light. "I still wish you had come with me; some things are best shared."
Holmes turned a page of his casebook. "You seemed to manage."
"You'll come for a walk tomorrow, though?"
"Perhaps, perhaps not." He flicked mechanically past another page, beginning to smoke his cigarette faster.
"Holmes, are you still brooding over--"
"No. And it's none of your business." He sighed shortly. "Besides, it wasn't my fault. What kind of woman who can afford French perfume, and chooses to wear it, also does the harshest housework? I can't make deductions from utter insanity and chaos!"
"And I suppose it's not your fault she took umbrage when you told her so?"
Holmes growled softly. "It was a small case, I'm certain I shan't miss it." The high colour in his face belied his words, as did the finger running round his collar.
When at last he looked up, as I knew he would, his grey eyes had a shade of self-deprecation. "So, Watson. Am I still the best and wisest man you have ever known?"
I raised a toast to him with the steaming mug I'd just found placed carefully on my side of the table. "The very wisest, and the very best."
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A/N: AW! I really like this one. ^.^ Again, I'm trying to restrain myself from waterfalls of fluff; also, I find that the restricted format of this challenge really, really helps to trim away the "fat" of a story. It's very cool!