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Sherlock lies where Edith dropped him. His face shines and she loves the look in his eyes. She offers a hand, helping him to his feet.
She knows that despite it driving her mad, some mornings, he lets her win — not always, but those are the days she shows no mercy and makes sure to get a good kick in. He is as stubborn as any Holmes, but she’ll teach him yet.
Today, though, was not one of those days, and so he clutches his bruised ribs.
“Tea?” she says sweetly.
“Tea,” he agrees, trailing her out of their gymnasium.