This is my first story I've put online, please review thoughts and criticisms, but be kind!
Implications of slash between Sherlock and John, or just very strong friendship. In short, somehow the two of them are on a mountain and John falls…
Do you think I should add more chapters?
Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock, unfortunately. But love the show! XD
John was feeling more than a little blue. He was freezing beyond anything he had ever experienced. The mountain air howled around him. He was so cold.
When he had fallen, his warm coat had snagged on a rock and been wrenched away, leaving him with only a jumper to keep out the intense chill. When he had come to his senses, he was lying face down in the never ending snow and his ankle was broken.
Now the fierce sub zero temperature was proving too much. He couldn't walk, call for help, or get warm. His face had turned a botchy red from the snow he was still lying in. He couldn't feel his legs anymore. Or his hands. He was so cold that he wasn't even shivering.
Sherlock. He thought to himself. Help me.
The notion that he was going to die out here, alone, turned out to be overwhelming for John. A single tear trickled down his cracked face – then froze.
Anything to escape this. Anything. God help my soul.
Then the darkness surrounded him and wilfully, he let it claim him.
"John!" Sherlock bellowed. "JOHN!" He couldn't even hear himself above the noise of the wind.
One second, John had been there, standing beside him. The next – whumph. He had gone, the ground giving way beneath him.
Sherlock cursed himself for bringing John into danger. If anything had happened, he would never forgive himself.
"JOHN!" He screamed. His mind was refusing to work, the cogs in his brain frozen like the ice around him.
He had to find John. That was all he knew. That was all that mattered.
No guide. No ropes. In the dead of night. How could he have been so foolish? Without a thought for his own safety, Sherlock began the dangerous descent.
His coat. John's coat, resting on a ledge.
Sherlock widened his eyes in fear. If John had no coat in the weather, it wouldn't be the fall that would kill him. It would be the cold.
As he continued climbing, John's coat slung over one shoulder, he kept on yelling John's name, straining to hear a reply but hearing nothing. He cried out until he was hoarse. That was when he found himself on a steep slope, where an unmoving figure was half buried under the snow.
Sherlock recognised the body before he was even close to it.
"John! JOHN!" He charged towards his flat mate at full speed, spraying bits of snow and almost slipping in his haste.
He knelt down and roughly pulled John out of the snow.
John was half frozen.
Sherlock was certain that he was dead. Hesitantly, he felt for a pulse. When he found one, he was actually just shocked. John was still alive… John was still alive…
But for how much longer?
Sherlock hauled John into a sitting position and hurriedly put the coat back on its owner. He took off his own gloves and fitted them onto John's hands. Somehow, his own pair had fallen off.
"John?" He shook John hard. "John, can you hear me? Answer me!"
John mumbled something incoherently and his eyes flickered open.
He still wasn't shivering. That was a bad sign.
"Can you feel your feet?" Was the first thing Sherlock had to know. No sentimental talk.
John frowned, vaguely wondering where they were. Memory flooded back to him. He frowned again, not really taking Sherlock's presence in.
"John…" Sherlock pleaded. "Can you feel your feet or hands?" Still with a horribly blank expression, John couldn't answer. Sherlock took the silence as a 'no'.
Quickly, still holding John up, he began furiously rubbing the man's hands. John gave a groan of pain as feeling returned. Without hesitation, Sherlock undid the buttons of his coat and pulled it around John as well. Partly ice-covered, John leant on his chest, the ice coating his face and hair melting slightly.
Feeling colder by the minute, Sherlock began stroking John's back, warming his friend a little more. John's head was like an ice pack and it made Sherlock shudder. But at least there was a chance that John could get more heat.
Moaning at the unexpected body heat Sherlock was providing, John began to shiver,
Sherlock gave a small smile, partially relieved. It quickly faded to a frown when he thought: How are we going to get down?
