Today's Prompt: Coal and chaos (from Winter Winks 221).
Watson woke up chilled to the bone. The previous day had been bright and relatively warm, but the temperature must have taken a sharp drop in the night. His old bullet wound ached and he tried in vain to draw any warmth out of the thin comforter. Finally, he shoved off the blankets and hastily dressed. In the early morning light he could see a delicate frost creeping in around the window panes.
Downstairs, he discovered Holmes gone and the coal scuttle empty. They hadn't thought they would need the heater for another few weeks, of course they hadn't thought to get more. So, Watson took a hurried breakfast and stepped out into the icy city in search of some coal. His breath curled around him like smoke rings and the chill wind gnawed at any exposed skin. It was a dreadful day to be out of doors, but he was far from the only one. The whole city seemed to be as alive as ever, people rushing to and fro to stay out in the cold for as little time as possible.
Watson plunged into the crowd, of the same mind as the rest. Unfortunately, they were in too great accordance. The closer he got to his destination, the busier the streets got, until he could hardly see the coal shop for all the people gathered around it. There was no line, just a mass, pushing and shoving their way to the front. From snatches of conversation, he gathered that after the sudden frost there had been a run on all the coal shops in the city. He would be lucky if he could find a single lump.
Still, the biting chill urged him on. With many apologies, he bumped his way through the crowd, jostled and pushed this way and that by the ever shifting mass of humanity around him. Most were poor, workers and worse in rags, but he was not the only gentleman desperate for a little warmth after the sudden drop in temperature. He managed to wade his way toward the front where he could hear the desperate shop's owner arguing with rich and poor alike.
His coal was long gone. A new shipment might not arrive for days.
Watson stumbled home defeated, hoping to conserve what little warmth he had left. Perhaps Holmes had better luck, but Watson was not optimistic. He arrived aching and numb. Mrs. Hudson ushered him upstairs, where Holmes took over and guided him in front of a cheery fire. Without coal, they had resorted to logs, but in front of the fire it was warm enough to bring life back into Watson's limbs and soothe his aching battle wound.
"We both returned empty handed," Holmes remarked, pressing a hot cup into Watson's hands. "We're fortunate that Mrs. Hudson has a sizable store of wood for the fire. I fear our bedrooms will be impassable until they're warmed by the sun or a fresh shipment of coal, but we should be able to make do with the sitting room."
Sure enough, Holmes had gathered a pile of blankets from the bedrooms and Mrs. Hudson soon brought up a rich stew from the kitchens that made for a warming dinner.
Holmes and Watson spend the day by the fire and that evening they settled on the settee surrounded by blankets. It was only reasonable for them to lie close together to preserve their warmth, pressed even closer on the narrow settee. Holmes made for a clumsy mass of sharp angles, his tall frame condensed to fit, but somehow they managed to fit intertwined together.