"Christ, it's cold," John said, stuffing his hands in his huge parka. He couldn't feel his fingers or his feet. It was like walking on stumps.
Sherlock huffed an agreement, the action sending a billowing white cloud into the air.
"Why are we here again? In bloody Alaska?"
"Because, John," the detective replied testily, "this is the most interesting case I've heard of in months."
"But Alaska, Sherlock!"
The taller merely rolled his eyes, stomping along the road. John thought he looked absurd in the huge parka, but kept it to himself, since he probably did too.
"Can you deny that a case involving a mere dinner party, twelve people who don't know each other, and 12 dead in the same night isn't interesting?"
John pondered this a bit.
"Still too bloody cold," he complained. Sherlock peered at him, taking in his stiff stride, violent shivers, and bright red nose.
"We should get you warm," he murmured. John's breath hissed out from between his teeth half in annoyance and half in a way of coping with the cold. A silver cloud floated away.
"Sherlock, I'm fine. You should see your nose, you git. You're like Rudolph."
Sherlock clearly didn't appreciate being compared to a fictional reindeer.
"In any case, I don't like the idea of hypothermia. Not my ideal," said the detective, and in sync the pair turned to walk up the way to the motel they were staying in.
"The 'Prancing Pony'," Sherlock muttered, mildly disgusted.
"Get over it," John replied, shucking off his coat.
"So," he continued, clearing his throat and turning up the heater, "what are your theories?"
Sherlock gazed out the window.
"Come on, Consulting Detective. I know you have at least five," John pushed.
"Seven, actually," Sherlock quipped.
While Sherlock gave in and rattled off his ideas, John crept up behind and wrapped his freezing arms around his boyfriend. His boyfriend. John felt a rush of giddiness at the fact. Sherlock faltered in his rambling, and John felt his chest expand with an inhale. Sherlock could feel John's heart against his back. He continued talking a moment later, but his hands stopped gesturing about and hugged John's freezing ones.
Long after Sherlock was done talking, John continued to hold him like a lifeline.
"How long are you going to stay with me?"
Sherlock pondered this. He squeezed John's cold fingertips, bringing them up and holding them to his cheek.
"Forever."
