"And that, Lestrade, is why you should have told me about this scene before you let Anderson get his grubby hands on it," Sherlock grumbled, dropping his gloves into the waiting bin and tugging on his coat again. John shook his head and tucked his notebook away, giving Lestrade an apologetic glance as they stepped out onto the pavement.
The DI rolled his eyes and waved them off. "I'll call you when we need more," he muttered tiredly, returning to the crime scene. It had started to rain while the pair were inside, and now it was coming down in earnest. John flipped his coat collar up, trying to keep water from running down his back as he began to walk faster.
"Get us a taxi, yeah?" John grunted as an unnoticed puddle splashed him to the knee. Sherlock hummed and moved towards the curb, arm half-raised, just as a blue car skidded around the car and sent up a huge spray of water. There was a startled shout, and as the car drove away Sherlock was revealed, soaking wet and wiping his hair out of his eyes, scowling.
"Wanker!"
John ducked his head and walked faster, hands in his pockets. Sherlock made short work of catching up to him and kept pace, making small noises of discontent as they went. By the end of the next block, John was barely able to contain his laughter- Sherlock rather reminded him of a cat who had been made to take a bath, the weight of his sopping coat dragging at his shoulders and adding to the overall pathetic look.
When they finally got back to Baker Street, Sherlock was sneezing, his lips were turning blue, and he was soaked to the bone. Mrs. Hudson made him towel off and take off both coat and suit jacket before letting him up the stairs, John following not long after to find the shower already running and Sherlock huddled before a weak fire in a nest of towels, waiting for the water to heat. John couldn't help it, he burst out laughing.
"Sorry, it's just… you look like a cat," he gasped in answer to the man's murderous glare. He knew if Sherlock hadn't been more concerned with getting warm, he'd need to fear for his life right now. With a somewhat repentant grin, he ducked into the kitchen and set about making tea. By the time he'd drunk his, the detective had showered and returned to his place before the fire, with a nest of blankets this time, and John was finally feeling warm enough for a shower himself.
More tea was made, and blankets were fetched from both beds, and when Mrs. Hudson came up an hour later to check on them, she found a mess of blankets before a fire and the two men leaning against each other, fast asleep.
