A pale hand was grabbing the hem of his jumper and tearing it off. It threw the soaked garment to the floor and started to undo the buttons of his shirt. Looking around the room, John tried to figure out how he had gotten back to Scotland Yard.

That's right, he remembered now. A criminal had tried to shoot Sherlock and John had tackled him. The trajectory had been off and they had fell into the river. After they were pulled out they were in the car on the way back to the Yard for statements.

"Sherlock..."

"Shut up. Anderson, finish taking John's clothes off. Hopefully even you can handle such a simple task. Try not to let the half a brain cell you have explode." Turning around, Sherlock began to unwind his scarf and shrug off his coat. Without looking back at them, he called back, "close your mouth. Everytime you speak you are making noise pollution and wasting oxygen. Also, John, don't argue, you are a doctor, so you should know the signs of hypothermia."

By now Sherlock was down to his silk boxers. He turned back to see if Anderson had unclad the shaking form. Glancing down for a moment, he looked back up and smirked. "Nice pants."

Competing with his pants for redness, John just glared at him not able to come up with a good comeback. Suddenly, he felt self-conscious as the whole yard gawked at them. He opened his mouth to speak but only a yelp came out when he was suddenly pulled down.

Sherlock was sitting on the floor with his legs on either side of John. One hand gripped blonde hair as he pushed the face into his shoulder to muffle any protests.

"Oi, Freak! What the bloody hell are you doing now!" Broke the silence.

"I need my blogger. Since we have got here he has not stopped shivering even though it is 72.3 degrees fahrenheit in here. He was being an idiot, like always, and had tackled the criminal into the water and was soaked. With the chance of hypothermia, I decided to help. John needed to get out of his soggy clothes. Plus, the best way to get warmth is skin-to-skin contact. So, that is what I am doing. It should have been glaringly obvious even to you, Donovan. This is sad if you are what they call London's finest."

Donovan sneered at the consulting detective. "And here I thought that you were just trying to sneak a peek."

Looking offended, he retorted, "If that was my true motive I would've come up with something more original than that. Even, Anderson could come up with that. Actually, he already did two weeks ago when that storm had hit and the two of you were caught in it. He had invited you in for a nightcap and offered you some clothes." Her face turned red, but didn't deny it. "You really should start remembering to bring extra clothes and your own deodorant." Then he added as an afterthought, "besides, I've already seen John naked."

Now, those who haven't been watching couldn't tear their wide-eyed gaze away. It was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Or a pen, which had fell out of someone's slack grip.

Donovan didn't even know what to say. "Y-you mean you guys... but you're..."

John managed to get his head free from Sherlock prison. "N-no! No, just, no! That's not what he meant! What had happened was-" His panicked voice was cut off by Lestrande.

"What are you doing now?" Exasperation was laced into the question directed at Sherlock.

"Keeping my dear Watson from hypothermia." Was the blunt reply as he put his chin on top of John's head. "Some may describe this as 'cuddling', though."

"I do not cuddle. And calling me 'your dear Watson' is not helpful. He tilted his head back to scowl at him, Sherlock just smirked when their eyes met. Giving up on trying to intimidate him, he addressed Lestrande. "Do you need our statements now?"

"Well, I wouldn't want to disturb you two right now." John was definitely doing a lot of glaring today. "But that would be helpful. Here." He dropped an old uniform on the floor for John.

He thanked him and waited for Sherlock to let him go. Sherlock didn't move. " Sherlock, off. Now." As soon as John was free he got up and stretched. Now people got the chance to send appreciative glances at him.

"Come along John. No need to waste any more valuable time here." Sherlock took a pair of trousers from the pile and threw them at him while gathering his own clothes.

Lestrande shook his head at how obvious Sherlock was. It looked like he was trying to make anyone who even dared to glance in John's direction as he dressed spontaneously combust. Couldn't really blame him though. All that running about London must of kept up that army body.

As soon as Sherlock finished redressing he grabbed John's arm and started dragging him towards the office. With one hand John tried to finish buttoning the borrowed shirt.

"You owe me a tenner. I told you they were shagging."

There was a grumble reply to whoever said this. "Could have sworn he was asexual."

"I'm pretty sure no one can resist that arse. There was a reason he was called three-continent Watson."

Sherlock's irritated voice rose over everyone else's. "Come on,Inspector!"

Lestrande deserved a bloody award for dealing with Sherlock. Aspirin had stopped working a while ago and the headaches had a tendency to evolve into migraines. Maybe John had something stronger. With a sigh, he made his way over to the pair who were now having a row.

This was written in Physical Science and unedited. Please tell me if anything needs to be fixed. Also, fanfiction screws with the formatting, so sorry about that.