John stomped his feet and adjusted the blanket over his legs. God, it was too cold for this. Why were there still people in line? Well, he knew why – it was Christmastime. Going for a carriage ride was romantic. He glared balefully at the sky as it started to snow again, then glanced at his watch. Still another hour. John felt the gentle dip as people started loading in the back of the carriage, then the slight rattling before it went still as they all settled in their seats.
Mike walked over, followed by a younger man, possibly still in his teens. John swallowed hard as he took in the dark hair, cheekbones, and icy eyes of the stranger. Was it legal for a man to be so pretty? John's eyes snapped back to Mike as he cleared his throat. He gave John a teasing grin. "I said, do you have room for one more?"
John blinked, glanced behind him, and shrugged. "One?" He gave Mike a confused look. "Sure, if he doesn't mind sitting up front with me," he replied. He collected the reins in one hand so he could hold out the other to help the man up. The man ignored his hand and pulled himself up. John shrugged again and offered half his blanket after the man sat down. He looked over his shoulder at the passengers behind him. "Everyone ready?" he asked. A chorus of affirmative responses answered him, and he smiled at he snapped the reins. No matter how much he grumbled, he did enjoy seeing people happy. "Let's go, Greta!" The Belgian mare set off at a brisk walk.
The younger man sitting beside him stayed silent until nearly halfway through the ride. "When do you go back?" he asked.
John jumped at the unexpected (and unexpectedly deep) voice. "Pardon?"
"You're a soldier, recently returned home, but you're planning to go back. Though your family disapproves. They want you to stay home."
John stared at the younger man a long minute, then grinned. "You're going to have to tell me how you did that," he said.
"It's just simple observation," the other man replied, but rattled off the evidence of his deductions.
"That's amazing!" John exclaimed. "What's your name?"
"Sherlock Holmes." He blamed the flush on his cheeks on the cold. Sherlock Holmes did not blush like a schoolgirl.
"Well, it's nice to meet you, Sherlock. I'm John Watson. And you're right, I am planning to go back, but not for a few years. Next time I'm deployed, I'll be a doctor."
They both fell silent as the carriage drew to a halt and all the passengers climbed out. John wished them all a Merry Christmas, and thanked those who handed him tips. Sherlock fidgeted in his seat.
"Would it... would it be alright if I went around again?" he asked.
John grinned. "As long as I don't need the extra space for a large group, you're welcome to stay as long as you like." The city was paying them to do these rides, so they weren't charging people. Which meant he wasn't obligated to send Sherlock back to the line.
Mike directed the next group to John's carriage. Once they were all seated, John clucked to the horse. "Onwards, Greta May!" he commanded, then turned to Sherlock and asked him about his work.
Sherlock started out hesitantly, but was soon chattering animatedly about New Scotland Yard and crimes he had helped solve. If Mike noticed the two sitting closer than necessary a the carriage made its way back around, he said nothing, just smiled to himself.
