AN: Sorry that this chapter took so long to post! I hope that it was worth the wait! Please let me know what you think and thank you for continuing to read this story. It's very fun to write! :)
Chapter 4
It was getting cold.
So very cold.
John sat on the bed; his knees tucked up under his chin and at least five blankets wrapped about him. Why did it have to be so cold in the flat? John liked having the heat on. Hobbits had a body temperature that was typically lower than human's body temperature so when it was cold for a human, it was frigid for a hobbit. He clenched his teeth together and started to rock himself back and forth slowly in hope that any type of movement, even the smallest one, would help warm him up.
"Why does Sherlock even need the bloody heat off? If it's for one of his convoluted experiments, I'm going to turn it up…"
He tried to shift in the bed to roll out of it. As soon as he did though, he felt the cold air nip at his body again, sending a shiver shooting down his spine. No. No maybe it was safer here. Maybe it was just safer to stay here in his little pocket of warmth than to try to get up to seek more. Like it would have been safer for him to stay in the Shire instead of going to try to face Smaug. Even though they had been triumphant in the end, it had still scared the life out of him. He vowed that one adventure was enough to last a lifetime.
Yet, in coming to London to try to escape the Shire and live a peaceful life, he had only found himself going on more adventures. He tried to rationalize it by telling himself that these adventures were different; that he didn't have to face any dragons and that nothing could be worse than that. He told himself that Smaug was the worse enemy that he could possibly ever face and Smaug had been killed. Smaug was no longer a threat to him.
As another chill rushed down his spine, he finally made up his mind. He had to go talk to Sherlock and convince him to turn up the heat. He knew that only his word would be able to sway Mrs. Hudson to turn it back on, especially since he didn't want to be seen by anyone. He moaned slightly as he rose to his feet. He shuffled awkwardly towards the door; the blankets all still wrapped about his shoulders. He was so bulky with the blankets on that he had to practically waddle to the door.
Once he was in the hallway, he continued his waddling pursuit down to Sherlock's room. As he stood in front of Sherlock's door, he felt as if he could feel heat just wafting from Sherlock's room.
"No, that can't be possible…" he muttered to himself. "You're hallucinating...the cold is freezing your mind."
He felt himself slowly start to go light-headed; the hallway around him spinning in slow, lazy circles. He closed his eyes for a second to try to get the sensation to depart from him before opening his eyes to reach out a shivering knuckle towards Sherlock's bedroom door.
He had barely rapped on the door when he found himself falling to his knees in his cocoon of blankets. He fell quite loudly to the floor and moaned at the force of the fall. He laid on his side on the ground, shivering terribly; his teeth chattering. He curled in upon himself, trying to conserve as much heat as possible.
"Sh-Sherlock…" He whispered; his lips blue.
He let out a soft sigh then as his eyes rolled up into the back of his head and he passed out right before Sherlock's bedroom door creaked open a fraction of an inch so Sherlock could peer outside into the hallway.
Sherlock had been in a ball on the floor, trying in vain to sleep away the boring day, when he thought he could register the footsteps in the hallway. His heart sunk then. What if it was John? He couldn't see him in dragon form. He'd be afraid of him for the rest of his life, but what if something was wrong? Sherlock looked at his reflection in the mirror; his golden eyes staring back at him. He knew what he had to do.
Slowly standing to his feet, he lumbered towards the bedroom door. Right before he reached it, he heard a loud thumb from the hallway. He reached out a taloned hand to wrap around the doorknob and pulled it open slowly. What he saw in the hallway had him widening his golden eyes in surprise.
Lying mere feet away from him was a shivering, unconscious hobbit.
A hobbit.
He swallowed hard as he slowly opened the door more; his heart pounding a million miles an hour in his chest. Why did it feel like he knew this hobbit? He slowly stepped out into the hallway and bent his head closer to the passed out hobbit to examine his features. That was when he managed to place him. This hobbit was Bilbo Baggins; the same hobbit that had tried to steal the arkenstone from him. However, not only was this a hobbit that he had seen before, but it was also John Watson, his flatmate. His features weren't completely different, especially in the face. He was honestly surprised that he hadn't made the connection before.
He should be weary of him. He knew it. He was only here to hurt him in some way his dragon mind told him. He growled lowly at himself, shaking his head. No. No, the situation was different now. He wasn't an enemy this time and he couldn't let him freeze to death like he was at this rate.
He gently walked over to him and laid down on the ground beside him, curling himself around John and his messy blanket cocoon. He used one of his leathery red wings like a blanket and placed it over John to try to use his body heat to warm him. He knew that when he awoke that he would freak out; beat him and run for the hills, but he couldn't let his one and only friend freeze to death. Hobbit or not.
So, there he lay in the hallway of 221B Baker Street, a once terrifying dragon trying to warm a hobbit up to save his life. A hobbit that, in human form, had saved his own by being his friend.
