Snow
A/n: this one is inspired by a guest, Snowy:
Some kind of snowball fight might be fun, maybe first they could be driving somewhere and get stuck in the snow.
So I hope I did a good job! Xxx
"I hate snow,"
"I know,"
"I hate snow,"
"So you say,"
"I hate snow,"
"I know Sherlock, I thought you hated repeating yourself?"
We were driving down a deserted country road, and it had started to snow, which had automatically set Sherlock off.
"Why are we here John?"
I resisted the urge to slam my head down on the steering wheel for the umpteenth time. Jesus bloody Christ.
"I like snow, funnily enough, and I promised Harry I would go and see her in the holidays, and that is exactly what I am doing,"
"I told you it was going to snow today, and that it was a bad day to go, it's supposed to get worse, what are we going to do if we get stuck?" Sherlock whined.
"We won't get stuck," I scoffed, "it never snows that badly in England, we just end up with a centimetres worth and that's it, because England is bloody stupid,"
"Balanced probability says it will snow badly,"
"You mean you say it will snow badly, because it gives you something to moan about, other than Anderson, I mean,"
"No, it will, look at it, it's already getting worse!"
"Sherlock shut up, or you're walking the rest of the way,"
"But I don't know the way! Would you honestly leave me alone in the snow? Really?"
"I will, I'm serious," I growled.
I realised, to my intense annoyance, that Sherlock was right, and I had to switch the wipers to a faster mode. I glanced around, seeing that the snow was actually sticking to the ground and the road was getting more slippery by the minute. Why did Harry have to live in the middle of nowhere?
Half an hour down the road, not without Sherlock complaining all the way, the snow got worse. Much worse.
"I told you! I told you!" Sherlock said triumphantly.
"It's just a small storm, it will pass, " I said, trying to sound confident. The wipers were going as fast as they could and it didn't seem to be able to clear the snow away fast enough. The tyres kept slipping on the small country road, which was freezing up fast, and everything was snow topped.
"John, this is ridiculous!" Sherlock said loudly.
"Sherlock, will you just shut up?"
I finally realised that it was just not possible to drive anymore during the storm, pulled off the road, and trundled slowly into a small alcove.
"Dammit," I growled. It was getting worse, and Sherlock kept glaring at me.
"I told you," he said, "we did get stuck, it has got worse, I told you,"
"Bloody hell!" I yelled, finally loosing my temper, "can't you keep your mouth shut, just for one bloody second?"
He pouted at me. I sighed.
"It will pass soon, we just need to think of something to do, while we're here,"
"John, even if it does pass, the road conditions won't be suitable to drive on for much much longer than that,"
"Well," I said as calmly as I could, "we'll just have to entertain ourselves then,"
I turned off the engine, and the roaring of the heating suddenly stopped, leaving us in the quiet, with only the muffled sound of the snow hitting the screen to be heard.
I reached for the door handle.
"What are you doing?" Sherlock snapped.
"Getting out of the car,"
"I can see that, idiot, but what are you doing?"
"Enjoying the snow," I yelled back, heading out into the white washed countryside. The snow was heavy and cold and wet and to be honest, it wasn't enjoyable, but it was better than being stuck in a car, getting bored to death.
And the view was beautiful,
It wasn't often that it snowed in Britain, but when it did, the usually plush, green, open land that spanned the horizon in front of me was covered in a white blanket of soft snow. It looked soft. It looked as though it was a blanket. I went to take a picture with my phone.
Smack.
Suddenly the back of my neck was absolutely freezing and soaking wet as something cold and hard collided with it. I gasped harshly, clapping my hand to the point of contact. I felt snow, clinging to the back of my collar.
What the hell?
I turned around and saw a snow topped Sherlock grinning at me.
"Wh- did you just- did you-" I stammered, not being able to finish the sentence coherently. Apparently, the thought of Sherlock throwing snowballs of all things made my brain freeze up.
He answered my question by revealing a large, and deadly looking snowball from behind his back, and hurling it at me.
Smack.
My vision suddenly went white, and snow stung my face. In fact, I think I inhaled some. It was bloody freezing!
I spluttered, and started batting the snow off my nose, probably doing a good impression of a cat cleaning its face, and blinking rapidly to clear my vision.
Sherlock was laughing.
While it was refreshing, not to mention surprising, to see him something other than moody, I. was. Not. Amused.
Right.
I leant over quickly, and gathered some snow in my hand. Then I straightened up, and threw it at Sherlock.
It hit him on his neck, and he gasped and started wriggling as the cold snow found its way underneath his scarf and down his collar, touching his bare skin. Bingo.
The site of Sherlock wriggling with discomfort set me off straight away. I started laughing too.
And then the war started. We were throwing snowballs at each other like little kids in a playground, and laughing just as hard.
And when Sherlock was serious about something, he really was serious about it. The snowballs got bigger, and quite soon, I was pretty sure I was impersonating a human snowman, I was covered in that much snow.
"You have awful aim!" I yelled at him, ducking quickly as a snowball headed for my face (he seemed to like aiming for my face).
"No I don't!" He gathered some more quickly, "you're bad, not me,"
"I was in the army, I need to be able to aim," I told him.
Sherlock started running away, and I chased him, chucking a new snow ball at his back.
And then Sherlock slipped on the ice, and landed spectacularly on his front, face-planting the snow with a soft thud.
For a moment I couldn't do anything, for I was absolutely killing myself laughing, paralysed on the spot. His face reappeared from the head- shaped indent, scowling, the snow sticking to his eyebrows.
"That was not funny," he rolled onto his back, a dishevelled black figure amongst a sea of white and grey.
"Are ...you ...bloody ...serious?" I gasped, "that- was- freaking...hilarious!"
I received another face-full of snow for this comment, and ended up having to wipe both snow and tears from my eyes.
"I've had enough now," said Sherlock, looking very chagrined, though still not getting up. He looked a little winded actually. I lapsed into silent laughter again.
"Shut up John, it's not funny,"
"Oh come on!" I was just starting to have fun!
"I've had enough,"
"Just because you fell over,"
"I could have been hurt!" He scowled indignantly.
"Were you?"
He readjusted his scarf, "no,"
"Well then," I grinned down at him, "you started it in the first place anyway, I thought you hated snow,"
"I do, I was bored, and it seemed like a good idea," he flapped his arms wide around him, clearing the snow.
"It was, I managed to vent some of my frustration on you without any lasting damage," I giggled.
He glared at me, "likewise,"
An icy wind blew, and I started to shiver violently. Now we had stopped moving, it was bloody cold outside. At least it had finally stopped snowing, though, that was a bonus.
I jumped up a down on the spot, and then noticed something. I stopped, and regarded him quizzically.
"You look like an angel,"
He blinked, looking a little worried about my sanity, "what?"
I burst out laughing again, "don't be bloody stupid, I mean, you've made a snow angel with your arms, you have snow wings,"
He shifted slightly, checking this statement, "oh,"
He looked up at me, "what's a snow angel?"
I stared at him, "You're joking,"
He shook his head, "I don't think I've ever made a snow angel before,"
"Christ," I shook my head, "did you have a childhood, seriously?"
"In a manner of speaking,"
"Did you ever make a snowman?"
"Once, I think, it wasn't very good,"
I sighed and shook my head, then moved to help him up. He took my hands and stood up slowly, brushing the snow off his coat, then he turned to look at the shape in the snow.
"You're right, it does look like an angel, and it tells you a lot as well, you can see my arm span, my height, how long I stayed there..."
"Yeah, very clever, now can we get in the car?"
I got in, and turned the engine back on, letting the hot air warm my frozen fingers, "I told you the storm wouldn't last long,"
"Hmph,"
Half an hour later, I tested the road again, and found it ok to drive on, if I drove very slowly that is. Then, while we were driving, I called Harry, and told that, because of the snow, it wasn't possible for me to see her. She didn't sound too bothered really, which I was happy about. I think we were both too wet and cold to want to anyway.
I turned the car around the first chance I got, and we headed home.
A/n: I hope it's ok, and you enjoyed it! A review or two would be wonderful! Keep up the ideas. And don't worry, I have a list of all the requests I've had so far, and I will write a chapter up on all of them! X
