There were more important things to life than coats, Holmes reflected, but they certainly made life rather more comfortable. Particularly on a miserable Autumn day in the pouring rain. It had seemed a good idea at the time to follow his most recent client to tail them back to whoever had sent them, but perhaps exiting via the upstairs hall window and the roof of the coal shed - without pausing to snatch up his coat - possible was not.
Definitely was not, he amended silently as a passing hansom threw up a spray of muddy water that splashed his face and stained his sodden shirt. Wiping the foul-smelling water from his face with his hand, he grimaced and trudged on. The chase had been fruitless anyway. His prey had taken a cab from the corner and without money, he was unable hire another hansom to pursue it.
He sighed with relief as he mounted the steps and reached in his pocket -
It was empty.
He swore to himself. Of course, his key was in his coat pocket. The coat he was bitterly regretting having left behind more and more with each passing moment. He raised his hand to the doorbell but stopped; it was Thursday,and Mrs Hudson always went to visit her sister on a Thursday. She would not be back for some hours yet.
He shivered suddenly as the cold wind caressed his skin through his soaked shirt with icy fingers. This would not do. He patted his pockets; not even a lockpick with which to gain a more unorthodox entrance. Damn it, how could he have come out so ill-prepared?
Sighing, he turned and sat upon the top step, drawing his knees up to his narrow chest and wrapping his thin arms about them, hunching down unhappily as the rain continued to beat down coldly upon his head, running down in rivulets from his black hair and uncomfortably down his back. Shivers wracked his body as the wind whipped him unmercifully and he tucked his back against the door for what meagre shelter it would afford from the wind and rain.
He hoped Mrs Hudson would come home soon.
Watson observed the woeful lack in his tobacco pipe and sighed. The rain outside looked most unappealing and unpleasant,but he would have to brave it if he fancied smoking his pipe. He supposed he could ask Holmes for a pipeful from his Persian slipper, except a knock on his door yielded no answer; Holmes was obviously out on some errand of his own. Watson shrugged, pulled on his hat and coat and made his way down the stairs. He reached for the door latch.
He was taken by surprise when a very cold, wet and shivering Holmes fell over backwards onto the hall carpet. Holmes lay there for a minute or so whilst Watson stared astounded, and then the detective slowly rolled over onto his hands and knees and crawled gratefully into the warm and dry of the hall. Watson closed the door behind him.
"Holmes,old chap, what on earth -" he began.
"What does it look like?" snapped Holmes between shivers. "I forgot my coat." He continued crawling towards the stairs, shudders wracking his body.
"Holmes, you're soaked through!" Watson exclaimed.
"Well spotted, Mother Hen," Holmes replied, dragging himself onto the bottom step.
Watson shook his head, then followed Holmes. Slipping his arms around Holmes' chest from behind, he gently lifted the slender man to his feet. "Come on old chap," he said gently. Holmes sighed and leaned in against the reassuring warmth of the doctor, shivering. "Lead on, McDuff," he acquiesced. Slowly they made their way back up the stairs, Watson's arm around Holmes' shoulders as the detective rested his head on the doctor's shoulder.
As they entered Holmes' room, he made straight for the tigerskin rug in front of the fire. Dropping to his knees, he held out his white hands to the warming blaze. Watson pulled off his hat and coat and reached for the tatty old dressing gown draped over the back of the couch.
"Come on, Holmes, strip off those wet clothes," he ordered, holding out the dressing gown. Holmes glanced at it then nodding, pulling off the wet shirt with trembling fingers, the wet linen clinging to his body. Watson left him to undress whilst he fetched the eiderdown from his bed. When he came back into the room, Holmes was huddled up in a ball on the rug, the dressing gown pulled tightly around himself. Watson coaxed him into sitting up, snuggling up against him, and pulled the eiderdown around them both.
"Better?" he inquired as Holmes shifted round slightly to snuggle against Watson's chest.
"A little," replied Holmes grudgingly.
"A little?" queried Watson, raising an eyebrow.
"My ears are still frozen, replied Holmes petulantly. Watson leaned in closer and gently kissed his ear.
Holmes raised an eyebrow and glanced sidelong at Watson. "And my nose is frozen," he added, a hopeful note creeping into his voice. Watson smiled, bestowing a soft kiss on Holmes' nose.
"And my lips," breathed Holmes quietly, turning his face towards Watson's. Watson's smile broadened; taking Holmes' pale face in his gentle warm hands, he kissed him, Holmes' lips parting readily as he melted against Watson's warm, vibrant body.
When finally they pulled apart, Holmes' face had a contented, dreamy look. "Better?" smiled Watson.
"I'm not sure; maybe if you -"
Watson laughed and kissed him again.
~~~ FIN ~~~