"Sherlock!" John called, face pressed against the glass of the window like a young child, "Sherlock, it's snowing!"
He pulled his face away from the glass, nose red from the chill and grinning like a madman. Sherlock glanced sideways at him from his position on the couch.
"So?" he drawled, obviously more interested in his computer and the distinct lack of cases than the small flurry outside. "It's December. It does that."
"This is the first snowfall, Sherlock! It's exciting!" John laughed, looking back out at the snow again and then back at Sherlock. "Yeah, yeah. I know I sound like a kid. But I've always loved snow."
Sherlock looked up at John briefly and then found himself transfixed by the glitter in John's eyes and the bright redness of his nose. A strange sensation rose in him-he couldn't help wanting to jump up and grab John and kiss him until he was red in the face from something else entirely.
Sherlock shook his head softly to erase the lingering thought. They were bloody flatmates, for god's sakes. John had a girlfriend. He would probably be very against a clandestine relationship with his flatmate, especially since said flatmate was male.
"I'm going out. Getting some more milk. God knows we go through enough of it. It's one of the only things you actually eat."
"Drink." Sherlock automatically corrected.
"Shut up." John snapped harshly, and then sent Sherlock an apologetic smile. Turning to the door, John went to leave.
"Wait!" Sherlock called, making a last minute decision. John might not like him the way he thought he would, but that didn't mean that he couldn't spend one of his favorite things with his good friend. It would require him to get off the couch, but without a case Sherlock was bored anyways. "I'm coming with you."
John turned back and stared at Sherlock incredulously. "Really?"
"Yes, really." He clambered off the couch and threw on his coat. "Let's go. Don't want to miss the first snowstorm of 2012, after all." Smiling to assure John he was just messing with him, Sherlock was the first out the door.
John shook his head with a smothered laugh and followed him out.
"Sherlock…look at it…isn't it wonderful?" John gasped from their position in the park. Sherlock had the small bags of groceries in his hand and had dragged John into the park where he would get the best view of the falling snow. The large hill annunciated the skyline of the city, and the lights looked almost ethereal in the night against the flurries of snow. Even though his logic told him that the snow and the ethereal lighting were caused by certain scientific means, he cast that away. For a brief moment, Sherlock allowed himself to believe in magic.
He glanced at John, whose hands were in his pockets and staring out over the view with a wistful look on his face.
Sherlock made up his mind.
"John?" he said quietly. John turned to look at him.
Sherlock's arms whipped out, grabbing John's hands.
"Sherlock, what are you doi-,"
Not letting him finish the half-yelped statement, Sherlock kissed him. At first John struggled but soon he melted, submitting to the touch and wrapping his hands in Sherlock's curly locks.
The night was truly magical indeed.