Okay, before anyone yaps about this being unCanonical, PGF and I have both seen in the last two days the Granada version of FINA, in which Watson returns to Baker Street from a holiday carrying a golf bag and clubs. So there, it's at least Granadical. :P
Thwock!
"Oh, well done, Holmes. You're catching on marvelously."
"I still think this is the most absurd sport."
"Be that as it may, you are rather good."
"Bah. I look like a fop."
"No, you don't," I reassured as I glanced down the fairway.
"I mean, really, Watson. Golf? I look like an idiot."
"No, you don't, you look like every other novice here," I grinned.
"Oh, very funny. I suppose you think I should dress the part, as you did?"
"No, honestly, I don't think argyle socks would look good on you, Holmes."
Our client had recommended this course, and after an entire morning of cajoling I had persuaded Holmes to temporarily stop investigating and accompany me. He had complied with poor grace and was doing his utmost to make me regret asking.
I was quite annoyed that the man appeared to be far better a golfer than I, though I had played previously and he had not.
He was in a much better humour by the eighteenth hole, seeing that he was beating me by at least ten strokes, and his attitude was fast becoming insufferable.
"I am very much regretting this," I growled, lining up my putt and sinking the ball.
Holmes smirked, slapping the scorecard into my hand.
"Doesn't help when you end on a double bogey."