A snowy chill stung Sherlock’s face as he sauntered down Baker Street with John in toe. He couldn’t hear the snowcrunch beneath his feet; too much noise around him. Not that he minded the absence of winter’s footfall. He just wanted out of the bloody cold already.
With a sideways glance, Sherlock spotted snowflakes nestling in John’s eyelashes, dotting his nose, and speckling his hair. The man himself hardly seemed to mind, too busy staring skyward with his tongue out. Sherlock frowned at the confusing sight. Three seconds passed until a snowflake finally touched John’s tongue. The pleased smile which lit his face made the detective’s brows arch curiously. Sherlock watched with a tilt of his head as John grinned his way and headed down the sidewalk again with a new spring to his step, only turning once to ask, “Coming?”
Sherlock glanced from his flatmate to the snowy skies. Conclusion: snow made John happy. Pulling his coat tighter around him, he pressed onward, figuring the cold was worth that.
