"Come on, Sherlock! Greg wanted us there ages ago!" John shouted, tugging his friend towards the park.
"I don't even like them, John, why do I have to go?" Sherlock demanded, giving up the ghost and plodding along next to John. The older boy only shook his head at his friend's silliness.
"'Cause, Sherlock, it'll be fun! Don't you wanna see Sally's face when I nail her with a slushball?" John asked his voice excited. Sherlock smiled a bit at the thought. She'd be livid but couldn't do a thing over it. He picked up his feet a bit and soon he and John were racing down the park. Mycroft waved vaguely at them from the car, already buried in a book. Sherlock rolled his eyes but slowed down so John could keep up –his legs were shorter than Sherlock's after all, the younger boy thought smugly.
A few minutes later they ran into Greg, who showed them where Sally and Anderson were preparing to do battle. They'd figured that Greg and John could have Sherlock since he didn't know how to have a snowball fight. While Greg built up a fort around them of packed snow, John showed his friend how to pack the perfect snowball, just firm enough that it stung but loose enough that it would dribble down inside the victim's coat and soak them through. Sherlock learned quickly, and soon Greg gave Sally the signal that they were ready to start.
"Ready, Sherlock?" John asked lowly, handing over a snowball. Sherlock nodded gamely. John beamed, already excited, and then he burst out from behind the snow wall and began scooping and throwing towards the opposing side. Sherlock followed him, throwing and reforming and throwing again. The first few pitches he missed Sally and Anderson completely, but he got closer and closer until finally-
"Did you see that, John!" Sherlock crowed victoriously as one of his snowballs caught Sally right in the face. She reeled backwards and John hooted with laughter, high fiving Sherlock in shared euphoria.
"Guys, get Anderson!" Greg ordered from behind the fort. He'd clearly decided they were doing fine enough on their own. Sherlock and John grinned at each other and immediately dove for more snow to throw at Anderson, who tried to duck and hide behind his own fort.
The pair of friends circled around and nailed him with a few well-placed snowballs. It was John who declared a cease-fire, so long as Sally and Anderson would concede defeat. They both nodded sourly, hating to admit that Sherlock had beaten them, but they couldn't argue or they'd be soaked through with snow in a matter of minutes.
When Mycroft came to collect John and Sherlock a few hours later, the entire group was soaking wet with bright red cheeks and noses. Mycroft shook his head lightly, and offered them all a ride back to the Holmes's for hot chocolate and some time to dry off. Sherlock didn't want to bring Sally or Anderson, but John told him he had to, or it wouldn't be fair. Sherlock finally agreed, and when they got home Mummy had the maid bring them all dry clothes and blankets and steaming mugs of hot cocoa with marshmallows in it. John bumped him playfully when he tried to sneak an extra marshmallow, but then only stuck his tongue out to let Sherlock know he'd been caught. It was nice, having a friend.