There Is No "Fun" in Frustration
Sherlock (BBC), Sherlock/John/Sarah, sharing body heat
John can't sleep, as he stares unseeing at the treetops. He can't help but think this is a little ridicules, a little impossible, and maybe a little -well- predictable. If this were a novel, after all, with the love interests all in one place, unable to go anywhere or do anything, in danger, this is effectually what usually happens. Not that there was need for such illusions in the life of one John Watson - oh, no.
Sarah was quite content to share him - and watch, and Sherlock - while having no interest in Sarah, had confessed 'feeling' for John - John understood that he was Sherlock's only friend, the only person outside of family that Sherlock allowed himself to care and be concerned for. Tagging along on the engagement trip that Sarah had planned (collaborating with Sherlock, John did not doubt but did not accuse either) was a given, for Sherlock was possessive as well as obsessive. It was only later that John learned of the curious murders around this mountain top retreat. People killed in the snow, just in the doors of their cabins; it was thought to be caused by hypothermia, but Sherlock did not think so.
Sherlock, curse him, was right. There was someone - a murderer - in their cabin, and John had left his gun in the cabin (as it had been found, and fired at them though the window when they'd approached) which left them in the cold for the night. A cold they might not survive.
John had found a shelter of sorts, a tree having fallen against a pair of rocks during last nights storm. They were crowded into the little pocket, John between Sarah and Sherlock, they were warm and sleeping. They were also very naked. So too was John, but John was awake, and...frustrated.
Very frustrated.