A/N: I like to imagine that Holmes enjoys lame jokes/puns. Based on Catherine Spark's prompt: "walking on ice".
I had but returned from a typically busy winter day, visiting several of my patients who had fallen ill to seasonal flus and fevers. I hung my coat near the door of 221B, and then ascended the stairs to our lodgings.
"Holmes," I asked, "Are you here?"
He gave no reply, but I did not need him to give one; for when I opened the door at the top of our stairs I revealed a room with a shimmering floor, covered in thick ice. I involuntarily gasped, but before I could speak, Holmes skated out of his bedroom and into our now-icy living room.
"Look at it, Watson!" exclaimed he. "Is it not beautiful?"
"Well, Holmes, it is impressive… but may I ask… why?"
Holmes's face darkened.
"I attempted to walk on some ice outside, but found it inadequate to support my weight. Walking on thin ice is never a good idea, my dear Watson; so I chose to create my own, superior alternative."
He gleamed with an innocent, childlike joy. I was reluctant to destroy this, but I knew my duty. I stepped up onto the ice platform, and carefully approached my friend.
"Holmes… you encased our floor in ice, because you could not walk on the thin ice outside."
"Precisely, Watson!"
"You stand upon thick ice now, and I commend you; but have you considered our poor Mrs Hudson's reaction?"
"Oh." Holmes's smile sank into a frown. "Oh dear."
I patted him on the shoulder. Then, surprisingly, his smile returned.
"I suppose," he chortled, "that I am still walking on thin ice!"
