A/N: I mean no disrespect to all the people who have seriously suffered from extreme weather episodes, and certainly this story cannot be taken as a guide in such eventuality.

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters or their previous feats.

.

'Blankets. We're going to need blankets.' John Watson was dead serious. After all there was a heavy blizzard storm coming, knocking out electricity as it gathered strength on its way to London. In a few hours all roads would be temporarily closed except for emergency services as the main focus of the storm was expected to hit the city.

Sherlock rolled his eyes, childlike. It was so John to worry and prepare for eventualities...

'Some alcohol drinks perhaps', he added, concealing one of his I-know-something-you-don't smirk.

'Booze? Yeah, I mean if it gets really cold some booze might be comforting.'

'The weather forecast mentioned gusts of wind. Maybe we should keep clear of windows and be aware of unwanted objects piercing through the glass.'

'Blinds, then. We need to cover all the windows. Good thinking, Sherlock.' At this point he knew his mistake and froze. Now Sherlock would definitely gloat of his part in a preparation he'd been resisting. 'Well, you are the certified genius in the room after all.'

'I am not really fond of IQ tests', Sherlock assured lightly.

'That's not what you said when you asked me my score.'

Sherlock giggled at the memory, John scowled at him.

'Bribes', John muttered under his breath. Bribes to make the genius behave when we're stuck here together with no way out for hours or days on end.

'What did you say?'

'Nothing.'

'Was it a list item? What do we have already, John?'

The doctor took a breath and recited, going through his own cryptic handwriting: 'bottled water, bullets, bandages, blankets, booze, blinds, bribes...'

'You wrote Bullets and Bandages?' Sherlock's smirk wouldn't go amiss this time. The man was an Army Captain and Doctor, after all. Unless... 'Have you been watching those apocalyptic sci-fi movies again?'

'Maybe...'

'And Bribes?'

'Seems so.' John was admitting to nothing, all of a sudden. 'What? Why are you smiling?'

'It's your list. You, John Watson, are more methodical than I had given you credit for.'

'Why?'

'So orderly and precise...'

'What?' he was aggravated. 'Look, will you help me with this list or not?'

'Bagged tea, biscuits...'

'Yeah, could be nice.'

'We can use my Bunsen burners for light if necessary.'

'I guess...'

'Board games...'

'Definitely not Cluedo', John said, taking notes. 'Think that's all?'

Sherlock smiled innocently (too much so). 'I'd tell you to add more stuff but I can't seem to find the appropriate synonyms.'

'What do you mean, Sherlock?'

'Surely you've noticed your fantastic list. I really like it. Mycroft would love it, with his OCD and all.'

John looked down on his scribbled words.

'Oh.'

Then, unfazed, he turned the page and asked:

'Sherlock, think we'll need stuff starting with the letter C?'

'Cluedo.'