"Mary? Sherlock!" Mrs. Hudson called from downstairs. "John's home!"

I peeked around the corner and down the stairwell, letting an excited grin cross my face as my gaze fell on John standing in front of the door. "John!" I exclaimed, rushing down the stairs. His eyes wandered over my attire and he looked at me with confusion.

"You didn't bother getting out of bed this morning," he joked, gesturing towards my oversized button down and immense shorts. "Finally stealing Sherlock's clothes instead of mine I see."

"Yeah yeah. And I see you didn't bother taking the fast way home from work," I retorted. "Come on!" I insisted, practically dragging him up the stairs to the living room, where Sherlock was sprawled across the couch with the morning's paper draped over his face. John scoffed at him.

"You didn't get out of bed either?"

Sherlock whipped the paper off of him and narrowed his eyes at John. "Wrong. She made me put my pajamas on early."

"Before it's even dark?"

"Uh, duh!" I interjected. "Guys, it's movie night!"

John blinked, wide-eyed. "Oh. Oh!" he said, realizing what I meant. "You know, I actually have a thing at a pub down the road. I think I'll-"

"No, no, no," I said, spinning him away from the stairwell and towards his room. "You both are watching with me! Pajamas! Now!" I instructed, pushing him into his room. Once the door was closed behind him, I glanced at Sherlock, who watched me suspiciously from the sofa.

"What now?" he asked carefully.

"Now, I make cocoa!" I replied. "And when John is done changing, I pop some popcorn, we all squeeze on the sofa underneath a mountain of blankets because Hell decided to freeze over today, and we watch movies!"

"Sounds...reasonable," Sherlock muttered. "Although we do have two extra chairs."

"Nonsense!" I insisted. "Being female, I was born with a high chance of bad circulation, which I have. All my extremities are usually cold, and with you two being men, you are usually warm. That being said-"

"You're just going to sit between us and sap our body heat," Sherlock said. "Wonderful. Can I see the list?"

"No!" I answered, grabbing the small slip of paper from the coffee table and stuffing it into my shirt pocket. "You must only trust that I know movies," I said, putting a kettle of water on the stove.

After a number of minutes, John emerged from his room in a pair of neat, striped pajamas and house slippers. I grinned.

"Yay! We match!" I exclaimed, pointing to the gigantic slippers I'd borrowed from Sherlock. I had to shuffle in them like I was wearing skis to keep from falling on my face. "Now go sit down," I instructed, "and I'll bring over the cocoa and put in the movie."

"What movie?" John asked.

"The first one," I replied, setting the tray of cocoa in front of them and slipping a disc into the DVD player.

"Since when do we have a DVD player?" John asked.

"Since she ran out and bought one this morning," Sherlock answered. Grabbing a few blankets, I squeezed between the boys on the couch, snuggling into the small space between them that had already filled with warmth. I tossed the blankets to either side, scooting as far beneath it as I could get.

"Yeaah!" John yelped, drawing his feet away from me. "Your feet are freezing!"

"Woo!" Sherlock made a small sound, jumping a bit. "Her hands aren't much warmer. For God's sake, woman. Keep your hands to yourself!"

"Sorry!" I laughed, curling into a ball and pressing play on the remote.

"Are you going to tell us what we're watching?" John asked again.

"Well..." I trailed off as the Disney castle appeared on the screen. John instantly brightened.

"Oh! Okay, that's fine then."

"Disney fan, huh?"

"Who isn't?" John asked. I laughed.

Sherlock jumped almost a mile in the air as the opening words to "Circle of Life" blared through the television speakers at a nearly deafening volume. "What in God's name was that?! Why are they yelling at us?!"

I struggled to answer him through my laughter. "They're not yelling! They're singing!" I giggled. "I just forgot to turn down the volume!"

As the credits rolled over an hour later, Sherlock stared at the screen, his eyes locked in the center of it. After a few minutes of silence, he spoke.

"That...that was Hamlet," he concluded. "Hamlet with lions."

"Yep. Disney's known for its film adaptations."

"You mean plagiarism?"

"Hey, it's not plagiarism if you cry harder at one than the other," I protested.

"And it's bloody heartbreaking when Mufasa dies," John added.

"We won't speak of that," Sherlock grunted. "Ever."

"Okay, on to the next one!" I said with excitement, hopping up to grab the next DVD from the stack. As I popped it in, the boys watched me suspiciously.

"You look quite excited for this next one. I have the strangest feeling that I'm going to regret letting you talk me into this," Sherlock muttered.

"No! Not at all," I protested, slipping the DVD case out of view.

Soft notes on a piano sounded as the movie began. Darkness subsided, revealing six figures standing, each in their own spotlight.

"Is the movie going to start, or are they just going to keep repeating the same notes?" Sherlock asked.

"Shush!" I hissed.

The cast began to sing, and John made a small sound. "Oh. Oh, God. Please tell me this is not a musical," he groaned.

"This is not a musical," I said with a small grin. As the first song ended and the second began, John sighed.

"You lied to me."

"I did."

As RENT went on, the boys' comments went almost exactly as I hoped they would.

Ten minutes in...

"So they're all sick?" John asked.

"All but Maureen and Joanne," Sherlock answered before I could. I grinned, pleasantly surprised.

Almost halfway through, as the cast began to sing "La Vie Boheme,"..

"Mary, what are you doing?" Sherlock asked.

"Nothing."

"You're singing along. I can hear you."

"Sh. It's infectious."

Three minutes after that...

"WINE AND BEER!" I yelled along. "To handcrafted beers made in local breweries. To yoga, to yogurt, to rice and beans and cheese."

Sherlock and John could be heard having a conversation behind my head.

"She knows the whole song?"

"Probably. She seems to have watched it enough. But what is the song about? I don't understand!"

"That's just it, Sherlock. I don't think the song's about anything. Did she just say something about masturbation?"

Halfway through...

"This song seems very sad," Sherlock muttered. "I don't like it."

"Ah, no. No!" John said. "She's back on the junk. Don't do it, Mimi!"

"What...what's all this with people disappearing? I don't want to see this! Mary! Why'd you make us watch a movie about death?!"

"Sh! Shut up!" I demanded, clapping a hand over both of their mouths. As the number, "Without You" drew to a close, the boys fell silent and stared at the screen, speechless. John made a number of small, pained sounds, while Sherlock narrowed his eyes and rose to his feet.

"Sherlock?" I asked. Without looking at me, he headed for his room. "Sherlock!" I laughed, chasing after him. "I promise it gets better. Come back," I coaxed, leading him back to the couch.

After RENT ended, I slipped Paulie into the DVD player.

As soon as Paulie spoke more than two words, Sherlock scoffed. "A bloody parrot can't learn that many words," he said. "It's impossible."

I glared at him. "Shut up! You just sat through The Lion King! Over an hour of nothing but animals talking!" I protested.

"Cartoon," he said simply.

I threw my hands in the air. "Oh my God."

"Sherlock, it's just a movie," John said.

An hour and a half later, Paulie was finally reunited with the wonderful Marie. I smiled, looking to the boys for their reactions. On my right, John sniffled a bit, attracting my attention. I grinned. I couldn't help myself.

"John...are you okay?" I asked, doing my best not to laugh. He spared me a short, watery glance before returning his attention to the screen and slumping his shoulders, trying to hide his face from view.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine," he replied. "Something in my eye, that's all."

I turned to Sherlock, who had adopted an extremely intense stare. His eyes were wide and unblinking as he watched the tearful reunion.

"Sherlock?"

He covered my mouth with his hand and shushed me.

After a time, I decided to be nice and put Charlie's Angels into the player. John snuck a peek over my shoulder.

"Charlie's...Charlie's Angels? Wasn't that a TV show in the 70s?" John asked.

"Yeah, but they made two movies, too," I answered. "They're great. You'll like them."

As the trio of girls appeared on screen, sex appeal and all, a wide smile crossed John's face. "Did you..." he hesitated, letting the smile spread. "Did you put this on for me? Was this an early birthday present? Because I happily accept!"

I rolled my eyes. "Just watch the movie."

An hour and a half later, John still had the same, stupid grin, so I looked to Sherlock for a reaction. He gaped at the screen.

"That...was completely ridiculous," he said finally. "I'm not even sure of the plot. What did I just watch?"

"Classic. Hilarious. They're my heroes," I confided. As I looked at the pair of them, an odd idea occurred to me, and I gasped at the awesome brilliance of it. The boys shared a glance.

"You restrain her. I'll call an ambulance," John muttered.

"We can be the angels!" I screeched. The boys gave me a blank stare. "You're the dark-haired one," I said, pointing to Sherlock, "and you're the blonde!" I said, pointing to John. "I'm the brunette, and," I gasped again. "Mycroft can be Charlie! Oh my God, this is the best day ever!" I squealed. John scrunched his eyebrows together.

"Uh. Yeah, how about we get rid of the sugar for the next movie, and- oh God," John groaned, picking up the next disc in the stack. "Uh, I'm gonna go get us some food."

"Aw come on!" I whined.

"Why? What is it? Is it bad?" Sherlock asked, seeming slightly nervous.

"No, it-"

"Take out, anyone? I'm going to the Chinese place down the road," John announced, grabbing his coat and running down the stairs. I gaped after him.

"John!" I called. "You're still in your-" The door slammed downstairs, cutting me off before I could say "pajamas." Suddenly, I found myself alone with Sherlock, about to slip The Sound of Music into the DVD player.

There's a love scene in this movie, I thought frantically. Do I still watch it?

I turned slowly, like a character in a horror movie. Sherlock watched me with one eyebrow raised and the low lights flickered in his pale irises. My heart thumped against my ribs.

Damn right I still watch it.

The movie began, and I snuggled into my nest of blankets, attempting to keep my extremities warm. Sherlock sat leaned against the arm of the couch, wrapped in the other end of the blanket and watching quietly. As the nuns of the convent pondered over how to solve a problem like Maria, Sherlock smirked, and I looked up at him.

"It's almost like they wrote that song about you," he noted, glancing down at me before looking back at the screen.

Maria bonded with the kids, and Maria slowly, but surely, bonded with the Captain as John remained gone. As the ball began, Sherlock glanced at the door.

"John's been gone quite awhile, hasn't he?"

I shrugged. "Seems like it. That butt. I'll make him watch it later."

On screen, the Captain asked Maria to dance. As they twirled and the camera zoomed in on dreamy expression after dreamy expression, I felt my cheeks turning a bright red. I chanced a glance at Sherlock, whose eyes were glued to the screen. Goosebumps marched up my arms as I studied his features, lit by the blue light of the television, and I shivered without meaning to. Sherlock glanced at me.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"Y-yeah," I stuttered, surprised by the question. "Just kind of cold. My hands, mainly. See?" I moved my hand under the blanket, feeling for his exposed wrist and touching it gently. His hand recoiled involuntarily, and his eyes widened.

"You're right," he agreed. "Your circulation is terrible." He huffed suddenly, and turned in his seat, sitting with his back against the corner of the couch and leaving room for me to lean against him. He clasped my hands and led me towards him. I actually resisted for a moment, mainly because I wasn't able to register what was happening. "Come on, then," he coaxed. "It's warmer over here." I obliged, averting my eyes at all costs, afraid to push the Twilight Zone themed envelope any further. Resting my back against Sherlock's chest, I curled up, letting my head relax against his arm. Somehow, we ended up nearly laying across the couch, but I tried to keep up the idea that we were still sitting up. Laying down seemed like a gateway to more serious things. Sherlock gently rested his arms around me and returned his gaze to the television, apparently thinking nothing of what was going on.

As the movie ended, footsteps sounded through the sleepy haze I'd fallen into. I debated on looking to see who it was, but the sensations around me were enough to keep me resting on the sofa. Sherlock's stomach moved in a steady rhythm of breathing against my back, and one of his arms was draped over my waist, while the other was between my waist and the couch. The arm of the couch was beneath my head, and I could feel Sherlock's breath rustling my hair. He didn't move, so I assumed he'd fallen asleep. In the cocoon of warmth I was trapped in, I let myself fall asleep, too.

The next morning, I reluctantly awoke to a stuffy, hot living room and a heavy arm draped over me. I also noticed John sitting in his chair, grinning like a Cheshire cat. I rubbed my eyes, blinking sleepily at him.

"Morning," he said cheerily, raising his cup of tea in a salute. I let my arm flump to and fro in a half-hearted wave. "How, uh...how was the film?"

"Terrible," Sherlock said from behind me, startling me into rolling off the couch. "Morning, by the way. The entirety of World War Two was happening right behind them and they choose to make a film about a traveling family of singers that runs away to Switzerland? Boring."

I stared at him from the floor, completely speechless for a moment. He looked down at me with his eyebrows raised in a sarcastic expression.

"Shut up," I huffed. "I heard you singing the goat herder song, so don't even."