Prompt: a walk in the snow

From: mrspencil

...

"Isn't it nice to get out of the flat for a change, Holmes?" I ask my esteemed friend and flatmate, Sherlock Holmes.

"Bah!" He snorts in reply. "What is 'nice' about getting crystallised water into your shoes and socks, all whilst running the risk of getting chills? I will never understand your perception of entertainment, Doctor."

"And I will never understand your feelings against it." I retort, tugging gently on the blue lead restraining Toby from running away from us, as he is so prone to doing for no good reason.

We are walking down Half Moon Street in an attempt to get some fresh air and a bit of exercise for Toby, due to inactivity on behalf of the criminal classes. Both news to which Holmes had fallen into a sulk about.

"We're not going to be out for long, Holmes. We're just going to walk Toby to keep him from gnawing on the tree for a few hours." I remind him.

"I did not agree to any of this." He says churlishly.

"Well, I never agree with whatever God forsaken hours you wake me up at for cases, drugging me with your foul concoctions, or your violin playing at three in the morning, so don't you start on me!" I answer, smirking in triumph as Holmes falls into silence.

For the next five minutes or so, I walk along, basking in my triumph, and trying to ignore Holmes kicking snow at my ankles with a vengeance. Whether it was for putting up the Christmas tree, dragging him out of the house against his will, or beating him to the silencing quip, I am not certain. But I know he's not doing it by accident. Accident my Jezail!

I do beg your pardon for my strong language, dear reader.

...

It was a very uneventful walk, but I am glad of the chance to stretch my legs for a good few minutes and clear my mind with a brisk burst of activity. Although it is getting colder now; if it gets too cold, I won't be able to walk back to Baker Street. I'd only be able to limp with Holmes' assistance.

"Come, Holmes, we better head for home," I say, and he looks at me.

"Yes, let us return to our rooms and warm y the fire with some tea and brandy." He answers.

Before I could commend him on his excellent idea, I spot a rat on the road, sniffing at the cobbles. I could hear Toby begin to growl. Without warning, Toby suddenly shoots off, barking like a madman. I panic when I see him run into the road to chase after the rat.

"TOBY!" I yell out, and I run after him, right onto the road, eager to rescue Toby from fatal harm.

I end up halfway across when I hear a loud bellow behind me, and a force knocks me off my feet to the side- just as a cab rolls past at high speed.

I gasp as I land on my bad shoulder, jarring the wound. My left cheek also gives a tingling burn, as does my palm.

"Watson!"

I look up- and spy Sherlock Holmes leaning over me, a panicked look in his eyes.

"Watson, please say you are unhurt!" He gasps in shock.

"Holmes, I am fine," I smile with shaky relief. "I have just scraped my cheek and hand. Not to mention jarred my wound."

"My apologies, Watson."

"Still, if it had not been for your quick thinking, I might have been"-

"If you say it, Watson, I will not be held responsible for my actions." He warns me, his eyes steeling over again.

"Well, thank you, Holmes, for not allowing the worst to happen." I tell him sincerely. "You saved my life."

Holmes grunts.

"Next time, Watson, if you want to go for a walk, we'll go somewhere with no cabs." He decides firmly.

"I see you actually will come with me." I reply mischievously.

"Of course, Watson. Who else will throw themselves in front of a cab for your unobservant self?" Holmes questions.