This is just a little drabble that I wrote for the Johnlock Party event on Tumblr, and I just thought of putting it on here too.
Anybody still waiting for Turning Saints Into The Sea updates, I am so sorry I've kept you waiting for so long! I've just had an awful lot going on as of late, but I haven't given up on it, I promise!
Sherlock heard the door open and felt the freezing cold draft for a moment before John slammed the front door shut. He waddled over to the sofa, carrying multiple shopping bags and wearing about seven layers of clothing.
"Bloody freezing out there!" He managed to say through chattered teeth. "Wouldn't mind putting the kettle on, would you?"
"No, I've had tea just now." Sherlock pointed at the mug beside him without looking up from his notes. "Although if you're boiling the kettle, I wouldn't mind another."
John shed some of his bulkier layers onto the sofa, storming off to the kitchen and grumbling something that Sherlock couldn't quite hear, but was certain contained the words "Unappreciative", "Lazy sod", and best of all "Not your housekeeper either.".
"Did you get much done today then?" Sherlock asked, still studying his papers.
"Yeah, actually. Got Harry a game for her Xbox, some smelly stuff from the Body Shop for Mrs Hudson, and a bottle of whiskey for Lestrade. Oh, and I did the shopping. Including the milk." John rambled on, busying himself with the kettle and mugs.
"I'm not a fan of red." Sherlock piped up. John looked at him inquisitively.
"Sorry? Red?" He blinked innocently. Sherlock dropped his notes, looking at John for the first time since he had come home.
"Yes, red. The red scarf you have bought me for Christmas that is in the same bag as the whiskey and the rose scented soap. You didn't mention it when you were talking about the presents you had bought today, clearly because it's for me. I just thought I'd inform you that I don't really like red. I prefer blues and purples." Sherlock stated, returning to his papers. John opened his mouth to comment, but thought better of it and carried on making the tea. He walked over to the fridge to use the last of the open milk, opening the door to a surprise of sorts.
"Sherlock…" He said through gritted teeth. "Why is there a snowman head in the fridge?"
"It's an experiment." Sherlock replied.
"It's dripping on the butter."
"It's an experiment!" He repeated.
"Sherlock…where did you get this from? Did you have to build it?" John stopped for a minute, highly entertained by the mental image of Sherlock out in the snow in gloves and a hat, rolling a giant snowball on the ground.
"Of course not. I stole it from the snowman that the Turner's nieces built when they came to visit yesterday." He scoffed. "Quite an impressive build for two six year olds, don't you agree?"
"You decapitated the snowman built by two small girls?" John groaned, resting his head against the fridge. "Why would you…"
"For science!"