Mycroft woke up and wandered into the drawing room to see Lestrade bouncing on the other side of the sliding French windows to the paddock. He raised his eyebrows slightly blearily at him. "It's snowing!" he explained. "So it is. I trust that Diane has kept the horses in the stables?" "Oh, come on, be a little excited, it's the first snow of December! And she has, I checked." "Good." he said, and turned to go into the kitchen. "Come outside, at least." he heard behind him. "Please?" He turned around. "Oh, don't do the puppy dog eyes." When he didn't stop, he closed his eyes. His partner snorted. "Oh, that's mature." "Says the man bouncing in the snow. And if I close my eyes, I can't see yours, and they can't affect me. Perfectly logical… Except I can still feel them. Why?" He opened his eyes. "I defy logic. Come on!" "Fine." Mycroft sighed, pulling on his gloves. As soon he walked outside, he got hit in the face by a snowball, temporarily blinding him, although he could still hear Greg snickering. When his vision cleared, he swung around to glare at him, only to be confronted a chuckling police officer waving the key to the back door at him. "Come on! he shouted, running further into the paddock. "You're going to have fun whether you like it or not!" Mycroft sighed and trudged after him.