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Sherlock plopped himself down on the large burgundy towel, stretching his long legs out in front of him and wiggling his toes against John's calves, smiling faintly.
"Ah, the seaside! Where the sweaty masses gather to burn, and... oh, that was a rather large seagull, wasn't it?"
"SHUHHHHHH!!"
Rosie ran into Sherlock's waiting arms, wailing, her little sausage roll yet another victim to the local wildlife. He rubbed soothing patterns onto her back, brushing back her sunblock-coated curls. It was hard to believe she'd be two soon.
"Shall we bury your Daddy?"
"Yes!"
"Oi! Don't even think about it," John laughed from behind his tedious beach novel he'd picked up at a service station on the way. Sherlock hadn't seen him this happy in a very long time. It almost made the sand in every crevice worth it.
"Yoo-hoo! I'm back!" sang Mrs. Hudson, handing Rosie and Sherlock an ice cream.
Rosie insisted on dragging her to the waters edge to dip their feet in, so Sherlock shuffled closer to John, trailing his index finger on his free hand from the nape of his tanned neck down between his shoulder blades, delighting in the gooseflesh that followed in its wake.
A hot, sticky kiss behind his right ear. A sharp intake of breath. A happy sigh.
John put down the book.