It was a beautiful winter day. The snow had piled up overnight, blankets of white hid the streets. Children made snowmen and had snowball fights. It was a perfect day.
For everyone except the occupants of 221B Baker Street.
The heat had gone out sometime during the night. Sherlock awoke early, his teeth chattering painfully. He tried to find some spot of heat in the bed, but it was in vain. He had fallen asleep without any coverings, so he had built up no warmth.
He hurried to John's room and crawled into bed with him.
"Sherlock, what are you doing?" The doctor cried sleepily.
"I'm freezing." Sherlock got under John's blankets, relishing the warmth that washed over him. "The heating must have gone out."
"God, Elizabeth must be freezing too." John rolled to face Sherlock. "That spare room doesn't have good insulation."
"I'll get her." Sherlock was loath to leave the warmth of the bed, but he knew he needed to get his daughter.
Sherlock raced up the stairs to Elizabeth's room. She was curled into a little ball, shivering, with every blanket she owned swaddled around her. She was awake, and she looked up at Sherlock when he came in.
"Come downstairs to John's bed." She raised her eyebrows and laughed. Sherlock rolled his eyes. "It's warm, come on."
Elizabeth seemed reluctant to leave the little heat she had built up. Sherlock sighed and began to pull the blankets off of her, "We'll take them with us. God knows we need them." Elizabeth unraveled herself from her cocoon and hefted the blankets over her shoulder. Sherlock trailed behind her, making sure she didn't trip on the ends of the blankets.
When they reached John, Sherlock made Elizabeth get in the middle, where it would be warmest. She tried to protest, but Sherlock just shut her down.
This whole thing would have been hilarious if it weren't so cold. After getting over the initial awkwardness of being in a bed together, the three relaxed and were just thankful for being warm. They had tried to call someone to fix the heating, but the phones had no service.
"Mrs. Hudson is lucky that she's in Dublin." John grumbled.
"Yeah, I don't think we could fit somebody else in here." Elizabeth remarked. The men chuckled.
"What are we going to do about food?" John asked.
"You're the only one who needs it." Sherlock informed him.
"Your daughter needs to eat, Sherlock."
"I'm right here." Elizabeth protested. "I'm right between you. Don't talk about me like I'm not. Dad forgot to feed me when I was younger all the time, I can go without eating for awhile."
"If Elizabeth wasn't in the way, I'd punch you right now, Sherlock." John growled.
"Oh, I could move if you'd like." Elizabeth offered.
After a few minutes of silence, Sherlock groaned, "I'm bored." There was nothing to do to occupy his mind. He wished he had thought to grab some nicotine patches.
"Shut up, Sherlock." John snapped, his patience already stretched thin as it was.
"But I'm bored!" Sherlock drawled.
"Well, if you don't stop complaining, I will kick you out of this bed!" John promised angrily.
Elizabeth clearly didn't like being literally in the middle of their fight, "Girls, you're both pretty. Now stop it!"
Sherlock was about to argue further, but a noise made them all stiffen. Something was beating on the front door. Not knocking, but pounding.
"What the hell is that?" John whispered, slipping into soldier mode.
The pounding got more intense. It sounded like someone was trying to break the door down!
John shot out of the bed and ran to the dresser, grabbing his gun. Sherlock shifted closer to his daughter, a little unsure of what to do.
This was one of those times that Sherlock was grateful that John was a soldier. That meant that he knew how to give orders.
"Sherlock, take this." John pulled out another gun and walked back to the bed. He pressed it into Sherlock's hands. "Careful, it's loaded." He then produced a few bullets and shoved them into his pocket.
Sherlock glanced at Elizabeth. She looked perfectly calm and composed, but her eyes betrayed her. Her bright, blue eyes showed her terror. But he was very proud and impressed that she was able to keep herself together.
"Now, listen." John lectured. "These are just precautions. For all we know, it could just be a few kids pelting snowballs at the door." Yeah, sure. Sherlock thought. If the snowballs were made of steel. "But it could also be somebody trying to break in. So we're going to go down and see. We need to stick together, we don't know if there are others that may try to break in a window or something. Stay with me, but stay back." Sherlock didn't protest. He knew that his job was to protect Elizabeth no matter what happened. As if he would have done anything else.
"And lastly," John retrieved a knife from under the mattress. He handed it to Elizabeth, who put in the pocket of her pajamas.
They crept downstairs. John went first, gun held tightly at his side. Elizabeth was after him, and Sherlock brought up the rear, watching their backs. When they reached the foyer, John motioned to Elizabeth and Sherlock to stop. He was about to step to the door when it suddenly burst open.
John had his gun up instantly. Sherlock pulled Elizabeth behind him, pressing her against the wall. He raised his gun and checked the stairs before turning his attention to the front door.
"Announce yourself!" John ordered. His hands were completely steady as he clutched the weapon.
"It's alright, Dr. Watson." Sherlock sighed, dropping his gun to his side. "It's just me."
Mycroft Holmes stepped into the foyer. He looked unsurprised at the fact that two guns had been trained on him moments before.
"Did you have to break in?" John asked, exasperated.
"Well, would you like to be warm?" Mycroft said, pulling his coat tighter around him. "Your door was iced shut. How else were we supposed to get in? Don't worry, I'll replace it." Three men walked in behind him and went upstairs, presumably to fix the heating. Good, it was getting chilly outside of their bed.
Two minutes later, heat had begun to circulate around the flat. Mycroft and his men left as soon as it was fixed. But it was still taking some time for the flat to warm up.
John looked to Sherlock and Elizabeth. None of them had moved since coming into the foyer. "Well, I'm still cold. I'm going back to bed." he said.
He started to walk up the stairs, but then he turned back.
"You two are welcome to join me if you want."