AN: Hi. I know, I'm late. You should read my sister, PerLuminisPropinquus's, story, Noel. It's better than mine.
AristaHolmes: Thanks! I'll have to read yours.
Darmed: Sorry. I was thinking about it, but I decided to do something different.
Chapter 2
"Hi," John greeted as Sarah opened the door.
She smiled, "Hi. How are you?"
"Fine. I can't wait till Christmas."
"Me neither," she grinned.
"You ready to go?" John asked
"Yep. Where are we going?" Sarah asked. She still didn't know where they were going; John had wanted the place they were going to be a surprise.
"Park," he announced. She nodded and walked out with him.
John walked into the flat and collapsed on the couch.
"How'd your date go?" Sherlock asked.
"Ok. I took her to the park," he replied, "but it started snowing. She doesn't like the snow. I do. It's snowing a lot harder now." Sherlock groaned. He hated the snow. It was too cold. "Hey, what are you listening to? Is that a Christmas carol?"
Sherlock nodded and turned it up slightly so that he could hear better, "Yes. I found one station that didn't have terrible songs, but they don't have any really good ones."
Snowball fight after school today
pack it fucking hard
throw it at your face
snowballs turn to ice
we're at war
John paused and listened for a minute, "Wait is this that snowball fight song by the Weekend Nachos with kids dying?"
Sherlock nodded.
"That's horrible."
Blood in the snow
water mixed with gore
the kids are dying
violence in the snow
Sherlock glared as he got the text from the DI. It was a case (probably ridiculously easy), so it gave him something to do, but it involved going outside. In the snow. Sherlock hated the snow.
"Come on John. We have a case," Sherlock called, bounding down the stairs. No one was on the street because they were avoiding the snow. He was trying to figure out what the case could be about when something struck him in the back. Another thing hit him in the back of his head, and he turned slowly. John was grinning slightly and hiding his hands behind his back.
"What was that?" Sherlock hissed.
John shrugged, "I don't know."
Sherlock sighed and closed his eyes before snapping them back open when something struck his chest. He looked down at the snow on his coat and glared at John, "What are you doing?"
"Snow ball fight," John replied.
"What?"
"A snow ball fight," he repeats. "Haven't you ever been in a snowball fight?" Sherlock shook his head and John sighed. "All you do is pack snow into a ball and throw it at the other person. Like this." He removed his hands from behind his back and whipped the snowball at Sherlock.
"That isn't fun," Sherlock complained.
"It is when you actually throw a snow ball. Try it." Sherlock sighed and picked up a handful of snow, packed it into a ball, and threw it at John. John threw one back and they continued to fight. John was laughing like crazy and throwing the balls haphazardly. He shrieked each time he was hit. John was right; it actually was sort of fun. Well, until a stray snowball hid someone walking past and they took revenge by throwing one back. At Sherlock's face.
"Ow," he moaned. "Am I bleeding?"
John laughed, "No. You're not bleeding. Come on let's go. Lestrade is probably waiting for us."
