At Ten years old Sherlock had never seen snow before. The rainy English weather had made it impossible.
So when the weatherman announced the possibility, it was like Christmas came early. There was a constant buzz everywhere. Shops, libraries, but most of all at school. Everyone wanted to talk about the possibility of snow.
When it actually happened Sherlock was stunned. He opened his bedroom curtains to see everything coated in white. He had hardly slept the night before hoping for it to actually happen.
Mycroft rushed in laughing happily as they danced around in their pj's. Sherlock grinned, at 17 mycroft always had better things to be doing than goofing off with his little brother. But the snow seemed to have lifted his spirits. Soon their mother came through, a huge smile on her face as she told them even better news: school was cancelled.
It was perfect. He thought it couldn't be a more perfect day. He was wrong.
Moriarty knocked on the door around ten that morning. Sherlock dug up every piece of qinter clothing he could find and met him at the door with yellow wellies and two gloves that didn't match. He also had on two jumpers, a rain coat that was a size to small and three pairs of socks.
Moriarty had a hoodie on over several layers that made him look like a marshmallow. His eyes were bright with excitement, and he clapped his red-gloved hands together and stomped off his boots on Sherlocks porch.
The air was visible everywhere. Puffs from their mouths, from cars, from the tops of houses. Little White clouds of excitement. The cold made their cheeks pink and their noses numb.
A snowflake landed in Moriarty's thick eye lashes. He blinked but it stubbornly stayed stuck. Sherlock shyly reached up to brush it off, earning a smile from his companion.
They crunched down a path to the football pitch, delighted with the trail of boot prints in their wake. They stomped out into the field, laughing and sliding on an icy undercoat of grass. Moriarty scooped up a pile of white powder and plopped it down on Sherlocks head. Sherlock squeaked and rolled away grabbing a scoop of his own and shoving its own the back of the other boys jumper.
The fight was on.
Sherlock dodged a snowball as it went flying past bursting into a cloud of powder as it hit the ground. Blue eyes sparkling he stuck out his tongue.
"You're gonna get it now"Moriarty yelled.
"You couldn't hit the side of a barn" Sherlock yelled back before taking off at a run. Moriarty gave chase. Catching him round the waist and they rolled onto the field.
Lying on their backs, cold seeping through many layers of clothing, they gasped for breath. Sherlock opened his mouth and stuck his tongue out at the sky. A perfectly aimed snowflake landed on it. He glanced over at Moriarty only to find brown eyes watching him intently. Strangely.
He rolled over suddenly, heavy with all the layers of clothes his hands outstretched to clasp Sherlocks in the snow.
Moriarty looked down.
"How'd it taste" he asked.
Sherlock could hardly breath, though it had nothing to do with the cold snow. "Wet" he gasped.
After a few moments of silence Sherlock felt the need to say something, "My nose is cold"
He though that would be the end of it. That Moriarty would laugh and roll off him. Instead he leaned in closer. And very softly kissed the top of Sherlocks nose.
Sherlock blinked in amazement. Moriarty kissed him again. This time on the lips. Soft at first then a little more urgent. Their cold lips melded together in a frozen moment of absolute perfection.