From here on in we diverge completely from the canon timeline. Needs must. Set sometime after all events from "A Scandal in Belgravia."

x-x-x

The storm knocked out the power to the inn nearly two hours ago and the temperature in the room has dropped dramatically. John tries to sleep, but his toes are numb. He finally puffs out a breath of frustration and heaves himself out of bed. He digs through his bag with frozen fingers and pulls on a jumper over his t-shirt and an extra pair of socks.

He hears a squeaking noise out in the hall, and there's a rap at the door. He pads over to answer it.

"Brought some supplies," the innkeeper says, indicating a wheeled cart near him that is full of firewood. He comes in, and John goes to open the flue.

The innkeeper hands newspaper and fat wood to him.

"Power's out through the whole county. Land line's still working if you need it," he explains. He is elderly and a bit frail, and John is certain he shouldn't be kneeling on the stone hearth. Even his own knees are complaining with the cold.

Sherlock stays in his bed, burrowed into his covers.

"Thank you, that's very kind," John fills in as the flames catch. "Need help with anything?" He rises, automatically putting out a hand to help the old man up.

The innkeeper takes the offered hand and pulls up to standing. "Ta, but no, it's but the five rooms, and everyone's got a fire now."

He smiles and ambles towards the door, which John opens for him, letting him out with a small smile. He closes and locks the door behind him.

"For God's sake, come over here," John says to Sherlock. "I can see you shivering from here."

John begins pulling the mattress off his own twin bed, and Sherlock unearths himself from his blankets and moves over to help him lay it near the fire. As Sherlock tucks himself onto the mattress, sitting with his toes stretched towards the flames, John grabs the comforter that has fallen to the floor.

Without hesitation, John settles in right next to Sherlock, tucking the comforter around them both until only their faces and Sherlock's toes peek out.

"My nose is cold," Sherlock complains.

John reaches up and places a gentle hand at the back of Sherlock's head, tipping him forward until Sherlock's nose is safely tucked in the crook of his neck.

"There," John says. "Better?"

"Yes," Sherlock says against his skin.

In the morning, the fire is out, the heat is back on, and Sherlock is snuggled up alongside him. Beneath the comforter, their limbs tangle together. Sherlock's long legs intertwine with John's, and his nose is still nestled in John's neck.

John finds he doesn't mind.

Eventually Sherlock stirs and blinks up at him, lifting his head away in surprise.

"Morning," John greets with a sleepy smile.

"Morning," Sherlock answers, his tone cautious.

"Good thing you don't wiggle too much in your sleep, or I'd have ended up in the fire," John says.

"Good thing," Sherlock says, still not sounding like himself.

John closes his eyes again. "For being so skinny, you make a good pillow," he mumbles. He is warm and comfortable and would like to drift off to sleep again, but he knows the odds are not good.

Sure enough, Sherlock tenses suddenly and struggles to sit up.

"John!"

"Mmph."

"It's stopped raining!"

"Fantastic deduction."

He can feel Sherlock frown at him. "No time to lay about; we've got to get to the grange immediately and examine the barn for evidence." Sherlock is up and bounding across the room to get dressed.

John sighs. "Fine. Yes, all right." He pushes himself up and runs a hand over his face. The bed seems cold now anyway.

x-x-x

Notes: Thank yous to wiggleofjudas, i_ship_an_armada, and prideandprejudiceandcheese for their generous betaing.