#stunningphasers

The blonde sighed deeply, rubbing his forehead. “Sherlock,” he stated slightly louder, “It’s snowing. First of the year.” His words were registered this time and though it took him a moment, the brunette actually gave a response. “It’s winter, John, of course it’s snowing. I don’t see why you’re insisting on informing me of such a mundane occurrence.” The detective gave a bored sigh to accompany his words.

John huffed and moved to stand in front of Sherlock. “First snow of the year, Sherlock. Remember? You promised you would enjoy it with me once it stuck.” He crossed his arms in an almost defiant gesture. “Come on, get up. There’s a good layer on the ground now. Get dressed and let’s go out. Please?” The detective gave an overly dramatic sigh and pushed himself of the sofa. “Fine. Fine.” He stormed off towards his room to change. The blonde rolled his eyes and chuckled softly. Ever so dramatic. He himself headed up stairs to his own room to pull on another jumper and his jacket. Sherlock was waiting for him at the base of the stairs, looking impatient. The doctor rolled his eyes and moved past him, heading out the door. “Come along you.”

The brunette followed behind, his entire demeanor giving off an annoyed air. His entire attitude was starting to get on John’s nerves. After several minutes of the detective just standing in the snow looking everything like a petulant child, his blogger had had enough. Bending down, he scooped up a couple handfuls of snow and packed it together into a ball. Straightening up, he tossed it at the unsuspecting genius, hitting him square in the chest. Sherlock looked a little dazed for a moment and the older male laughed at his expression. Finally snapping out of it, the consultant bent down and made his own snowball with a faint grin. He lunged it at John, catching him in the shoulder. What resulted afterwards was an hour long  snowball fight that left them both soaked, freezing, and giggling like toddlers.

Leaning on each other, the detective and his blogger made their way back up to the flat.

“Well.”

“Well?”

“That was...fun?”

“Glad you think so. Now let’s change before we both catch our death of pneumonia.”

There was a pause, each heading off to their own rooms.

“John?”

“Sherlock?”

“Can we...Can we go back out tomorrow?”

A soft chuckle came from up the stairs.