December 29: "A cozy fire on a cold day." (from Domina Temporis)

Watson

It was terribly cold. The wind whistled through the streets, rattled the windows and doors, and squeezed the outside air in through every tiny crack it could find, rendering it terribly cold inside as well as out.

It was late enough that I really ought to have gone to bed, but two things kept me in my place on the settee in the sitting room. The first was the fire before me, and all the rugs and afghans I had cocooned myself in: I was almost warm, and moving now did not seem like a good plan. The second was that Holmes had not yet come home, and I was eager for news of his most recent case.

There was the sound of a door slamming below, and the unmistakable treat of Holmes's boots upon the stairs.

Something was not right. He'd left in an excited rush earlier, saying that he only had to test one thing and the case would be closed, but now his footsteps were slow and heavy.

My fears were realized a moment later, when Holmes entered the sitting room. He was far paler than was usual for him, and shaking like an aspen leaf in a gale. His hat and coat appeared to be glistening—was that ice?

"Are you all right?" I asked unnecessarily as I threw my blankets aside and rose to my feet.

"Bit cold," he replied, passing a hand over his forehead. "No, no, Doctor, I do not require help."

I was inclined to disagree, but bit my tongue. "Well, go get out of those clothes, before you freeze to death."

Holmes nodded, and handed me his hat and coat. I turned around to put the articles by the fire, and heard Holmes stumble into his bedroom. He appeared to be suffering from hypothermia, but likely not severely. At least I dearly hoped not.

As there was nothing I could do for the moment, and the chill of the room was beginning to settle in on me, I drew my and Holmes's chairs close to the fire, and put most of the blankets I had been using on Holmes's chair. I then poured two glasses of brandy and settled into my own chair. Not long after I had finished this, Holmes shambled back into the sitting room.

"Thank you," he said, as he settled into his chair with the warming blankets. He gave a twitch of a smile and said, "I suppose you are still wondering how I ended up soaking wet."

"The question has crossed my mind," I replied dryly.

"There was a bit of an unexpected struggle—very unexpected, or I should have asked you to come along—which resulted in an even more unexpected swim in the Thames."

"My dear Holmes!" I exclaimed.

"Not to worry, old fellow," he said, taking a drink of his brandy. "Lestrade arrived soon enough to bring me out again. It was lucky that he came when he did."

"I must say I agree," I said, not daring to think of what might have happened otherwise.

Holmes gave a shiver, followed by a violent sneeze. In response to my concerned expression, he smiled wryly. "I suppose it is also lucky I chose to share lodgings with a doctor."

A/N: Sorry…I don't really know why my muse keeps throwing Holmes in the Thames this year.