Watson couldn't help grinning behind a sleeve every time he shot a glance at Holmes, trotting away on his little black pony. He still failed to see the fundamental difference between the diminutive equine and a real stallion, but whatever would get the stubborn detective moving... Watson supposed he didn't need to add any insult to the injury to Holmes' ego, what with the jeers from the gypsies already teasing him quite enough.

Shaking his head, Watson forged ahead up the mountain. It was still a long ride to go, even with the smoother gait of his longer-legged steed.