Dec 4th

"God, it's so boring! Why am I surrounded by idiots! No case since YESTERDAY!

...at least no proper one!"

It was about 7:45 am in London, but the two flatmates from 221b Bakerstreet were already up. (John mainly, because Sherlock had started to play the violin two hours earlier.) Now he was just returning with bags of food for breakfast.

"I'm also glad to see you, Sherlock…" he put the bag on the table. "You know what I always tell you: go and find a hobby or something."

"Oh…habbies! How dull…"

Sherlock stood up, walked over and now stood tall in front of John. He only wore his bath robe and some underwear. A shiver ran down John's spine. When he looked deeply into Sherlock's grey eyes, he had an idea.

"How…how about ice-skating? I haven't been doint it for ages and would need some exercise anyway…so…"

Suddenly Sherlock blushed and turned away. He muttered something about ice-skating being useless, and John truly needing exercise.

"What? What are you saying?"

More muttering.

"What's the matter? That's not like you at all. I just wanted to help you."

"Clearly."

"Want to tell me why ice-skating is so tedious? Just so I know."

"I can't!" Sherlock shouted. He really didn't mean to be rude this time, but he was deeply ashamed. Nobody had ever bothered to teach him ice-skating or skiing or anything like this.

"I mean…I…I was never taught to. I'm sorry. John."

Now John was baffled. Well, on the one hand. On the other hand he knew that he shouldn't be. The fact that truly surprised him though, was that he hadn't learned, and that he actually minded. John made a mental note, that the topic "childhood" was a blank nerve in the Holmes' nervous system.

"No, no. It's alright…I suppose. Look, there's nothing to be ashamed about. It's only that I realise, how difficult your childhood was." there was a pause. John was finally ready to step on a new territory in their friendship; not caring to move beyond anymore. He also knew, that this territory's ground was as thin as a freshly frozen lake.

"Well um… I could teach you, if you want…"

An expression of surprise appeared on Sherlock's face.

"You…" he cleared his throat. "That would be…"

"Fun?"

John watched Sherlock struggle for a while, until he asked. "Shall I help you with those? I know it's difficult to put them on. I had always trouble myself, when I was young."

Sherlock hid his face in his hands.

"Yeah, but you're an idiot. I knew it was a bad idea after all!"

"And you've never done this before. Come on! Don't give up, but give it a try! And now let me help you into your shoes…"

It was 3:35 pm by now, and the daylight began to fade. All the beautiful fairy light were turned on already, and spread a wonderful, romantic, Christmassy feeling that yearned for a glass of hot wine punch. While John's cheeks reddened in the cold, Sherlock became even paler.

The doctor helped the detective onto the ice.

"If you feel unsure, just cling to the wall. Watch me first, and then try it yourself. I'll be there to make sure, you don't slip. It might be quite dangerous, ok? Always keep your gloves on, that's important too, for various reasons. And…yeah…that's about it.", he wanted to start off, when he turned round once more. "Oh! And, Sherlock, the most important thing here is- and it might spare you some unnecessary injuries- don't show off. Don't even try to. Understood?"

Sherlock tilted his head like a bird, but then nodded. It was impossible to even imagine what he was thinking right now. Now John gave him a grin and went along the track. His first steps also were very clumsy, but with every further movement he made, he fell back into his old rhythm.

"See? What do you think?"

"Well, it actually looks fun…", he admitted.

"Now it's your turn!"

Sherlock hade made some steps already, and with his excellent balance, it was no wonder, that he was a natural talent. The beginning however was rather funny to watch. Soon Sherlock wanted away from the safe wall and go round in circles like everyone else, together with John. The one who helped him; the one who was there and treated him like had only seldom been treated.

"John. Take my hand."

"Oh, ok. I'll help you!"

"I don't need any help.", he murmured, before he set off towards the middle of the rink. John almost lost slipped, but managed to hold his balance.

"What are you doing?"

"It's an experiment! But I need to hold your hand…otherwise I'll fall!"

"If you hold my hand and go this fast, I'll fall! Jesus Christ, you're bloody talented!"

Sherlock said nothing; neither of them did for hours now. Sometimes hand in hand, sometimes on their own, they went along the rink. It was 6:28 pm, when John ran out of breath.

"Sherlock, we can return tomorrow, if you want, but I just can't go on any longer…please, let's go and get a hot drink. Have you ever tried hot spiced wine?"

"No.", Sherlock himself sounded pretty tired. "Is it good?"

"If you've just spent hours ice-skating like you've never done before, it's the best thing, that can possibly happen to you."

"Oh, good. I have to have one now."

"Good! Let's go!"

When they stood there, a mug in their hands, Sherlock became unsure.

"uhm…John?"

"Hmmm?"

"Thank you. For…for everything. And for the hot punch."

"Oh. Never mind. That's what friends are there for, you just never knew."