Methinks I've had far too much coffee today... A 221B tale from a bored coffee break :D
xXx
This was more than a bit not good.
John could feel the fear crackle up and down his spine, shuddering through his body. Over the sound of gunfire and the explosive crack of IED's he could hear a voice.
A familiar voice.
Not a voice he wished to hear, here in the middle of an ambush in Kandahar.
"Are we to expect a happy announcement?" the voice asked, snidely.
"Piss off!"
"Yes John, that's what they usually say." A different voice this time, and the knowledge that the owner of this voice was so close both pleased and terrified him.
"Go home." He shouted, although to which phantom speaker he was not entirely sure.
The ground moved, shook slightly, and then without warning he was grabbed by icy fingers.
With a scream of distress he sat bolt upright, coming awake with the kind of shock that left him gasping for breath.
"Sorry John," Sherlock said contritely. "I just wanted to warm up, I didn't think…"
"Fucking hell, Sherlock! You're like a block of ice!" Not sure whether to be glad he'd been pulled from his impending nightmare, John tried to still his rapidly beating heart.
"Not surprised." The consulting detective pulled him back down and cuddled around him, long limbs like clinging tentacles. "Those predicted snow flurries have become a blizzard."