Work Text:
“I wondered if a trip to the stables might help,” Watson at last ventured over breakfast.
Holmes gave him an unusually conflicted look at this. Ever since he’d been attacked by Baron Gruner’s men, he’d been horribly on edge. “That would mean leaving Baker Street.”
“Indeed,” Watson agreed. “But it would also mean horses.”
That proved persuasive. Holmes loved horses dearly, and there were few things which could tempt him out of distress quite so consistently.
They retrieved apple slices and went to the nearest stables, not straying too far from home. This particular stable had one of Holmes’ favorite horses within London as well, a charmingly flashy and energetic chestnut who commonly pulled a cab in this area.
Almost as soon as they entered the stables, Holmes’ shoulders relaxed. He went to the chestnut’s stall at once, taking a brush with him. After feeding the horse a few apple slices, Holmes occupied himself with making the copper coat shine.
Watson retrieved a comb and went to join him. Both of them quite enjoyed grooming horses, finding it an excellent means of both relaxation and stimulation.
Presently, it served as relaxation. Holmes’ face, still somewhat marred by lingering bruises, settled into a much calmer expression as he moved the brush in steady, rhythmic strokes across the glossy coat. His breathing had calmed too, no longer restricted with anxiety at being away from Baker Street.
As Watson detangled the long tail strands, the horse returned to munching on hay, seemingly quite pleased with this attention. That was commonly the case for all these horses, and indeed even as they worked, a nicker for apples came from the neighboring stall.
Holmes flicked a smile at Watson’s over the chestnut’s haunches. Watson returned the smile. A trip to the stables had indeed helped.