Rated K ficlet for writingwife83 who has lost power twice due to storms in the past two weeks.
Molly's teeth were chattering by the time Sherlock got the small fire lit in the grate. There wasn't enough fuel in the remote cabin to keep it going all night, and the storm raging outside guaranteed there would be no rescue by the Americans until the morning. So much for their luck in managing to get a call for help through before they loss mobile coverage.
Assessing the situation quickly, Sherlock came to the only conclusion he could: they would freeze to death.
Fantastic.
When he focused back on the outer world, however, he was shocked to realize that Molly had begun stripping off her clothes and was patiently directing him to do the same. When he was wearing nothing but his socks, she carefully made a pallet of their clothes in front of the fire, Sherlock's beloved Belstaff on top, then directed him to slip his arms into the sleeves and lie down. His eyes widened as he belatedly realized she meant them to conserve their body heat by sharing it. Brilliant!
As they snuggled together, her sock-clad toes tucked bewteen his calves, he reflected on how thankful he was that he'd dragged her on this case instead of John.
When he somewhat shyly admitted as much to Molly, she simply grinned, kissed the tip of his (abominably cold) nose and snuggled closer.
Brilliant indeed.